Monstrous Regiment (Discworld 31)

"Of course. Can't leave this to a bunch of... oh, yes... ruperts."

"Where is my brother, Mister Vimes?" said Polly stiffly.

"You seem very sure I know..." said Vimes, not looking her in the face.

"I'm certain you do," said Polly.

"Why?"

"Because no one else does!"

Vimes stubbed out his cigar. "Angua was right about you," he said. "Yes, I, er, arranged for him to be put in what I like to call 'protective custody'. He's fine. Angua will take you to him now, if you like. Your brother, possibility of revenge, blackmail, who knows what... I thought he might be safer if I knew exactly who held the keys."

The end of the journey, Polly thought. But it wasn't, not any more. She got the distinct impression that the man opposite was reading her thoughts.

"That's what all this was about, isn't it?" he said.

"No, sir. It's just how it started," said Polly.

"Well, it continues like this," said Vimes. "This is going to be a busy day. Right now I shall take this offer of a truce into the room down the passage and present it to the very important men" - his voice went flat to say those words - "who are discussing what to do about Borogravia. You'll get a truce, the food, and probably some other help."

"How do you know that?" said Polly. "They haven't discussed it!"

"Not yet. But, as I said... I used to be a sergeant. Angua!"

The door opened. Angua came in. As Vimes had said, you couldn't tell who was a werewolf until you found out...

"And now I'd better have a shave before I go to see the very important men," said Vimes. "People set a lot of store by shaving."

Polly felt embarrassed walking down the steps with Sergeant Angua. How did you start a conversation? "So you're a werewolf, then?" would be sort of idiotic. She was glad that Jade and Maladicta had been left in the waiting room.

"Yes, I am," said Angua.

"But I didn't say it!" Polly burst out.

"No, but I'm used to situations like this. I've learned to recognize the way people don't say things. Don't worry."

"You followed us," said Polly.

"Yes."

"So you must've known we weren't men."

"Oh, yes," said Angua. "My sense of smell is much better than my eyesight, and I've got sharp eyes. Humans are smelly creatures. For what it's worth, though, I wouldn't have told Mister Vimes if I hadn't heard you talking to one another. Anyone could have heard you, you don't need to be a werewolf for that. Everyone's got secrets they don't want known. Werewolves are a bit like vampires in that way. We're tolerated... if we're careful."

"That I can understand," said Polly. So are we, she thought.

Angua stopped by a heavy, studded door. "He's in here," she said, producing a key and turning it in the lock. "I'll go back and chat to the others. Come and find me when you're ready..."

Polly stepped inside, heart pounding, and there was Paul. And there was a buzzard, on a perch by the open window. And on the wall, where Paul was working so intensely that his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth and he hadn't even noticed the door opening, was another buzzard, flying in the heart of the sunrise.

Right now, Polly could forgive Ankh-Morpork anything. Someone had found Paul a box of coloured chalks.

The long day got longer. She had a kind of power. They all did. People gave them space, watched them. The fighting had stopped and they were the cause and no one knew exactly why.

There were lighter moments. They might have power, but General Froc gave the orders. And General Froc might give the orders, but it was permissible to suppose that it was Sergeant-major Jackrum who anticipated them.

And perhaps that was why Shufti asked Polly and Tonker to go with her, and they were ushered into a room where a couple of guards stood on either side of a sheepish young man called Johnny who had fair hair and blue eyes and a gold earring and his trousers round his knees in case Shufti wanted to check his other distinguishing feature.