'Oh, there is honour among thieves, is there?'
'I don't know,' said Vimes. Oh, well... time to see if he was dead right or just dead. 'Is there honour among policemen?' Sergeant Colon's eyes went big. 'Swing my weight to one side?' he said. 'That's how magic carpets are steered,' said Lord Vetinari calmly. 'Yes, but supposing I swing myself off?'
'We'll have a lot more room,' said Beti unfeelingly. 'C'mon, sarge, you know how to throw your weight around.'
'I ain't throwing my weight anywhere,' said Colon firmly. He was lying full length on the carpet, both hands gripping it as hard as possible. 'It's not natural, just a bit of broadloom between you and certain splash.' The Patrician looked down. 'We're not over water, sergeant.'
'I know what I meant, sir!'
'Can we slow down a bit?' said Beti. 'The breeze is invading my privacy, if you get my drift.' Lord Vetinari sighed. 'We're not going very fast as it is. I suspect this is a very old carpet.'
'There's a frayed bit here,' said Beti. 'Shut up,' said Colon. 'Look, I can poke my finger right through–'
'Shut up.'
'Notice how it kind of wobbles when you move?'
'Shut up.'
'Here, look, those palm trees down there look really small.'
'Nobby, you're scared of heights,' said Colon. 'I know you're scared of heights.'
'That's sexual stereotyping!'
'No, it's not!'
'Yes, it is! You'll be expecting me to break my ankle a lot and scream all the time next! It's my job to prove to you that a woman can be as good as a man!'
'Practically identical in your case, Nobby. You've caught too much sun, that's what it is. You are not female, Nobby!' Beti sniffed. 'That's just the sort of sexist remark I'd expect from you.'
'Well, you're not!'
'It's the principle of the thing.'
'Well, at least we now have transport,' said Lord Vetinari, his tone suggesting that the show was over. 'Unfortunately, I had no time to find out where the army is.'
'Ah! I can help you there, sir!' Colon tried to salute, and then made a grab for the carpet again. 'I found out by cunning, sir!'
'Really?'
'Yessir! It's at a place called... er... En al Sams la Laisa, sir.' The carpet drifted onwards for a moment, in silence. “'The Place where the Sun Shineth Not”?' said the Patrician. There was more silence. Colon was trying not to look at anyone. 'Is there a somewhere called Gebra?' said Nobby, sulkily. 'Yes, Be– corporal. There is.'
'They've gone there. Of course, you've only got a woman's word for it.'
'Well done, corporal. We shall head up the coast.' Lord Vetinari relaxed. In a busy and complex life he'd never met people quite like Nobby and Colon. They talked all the time yet there was something almost... restful about them. He watched the dusty horizon carefully as the ancient carpet curved around. Under his arm was the metal cylinder Leonard had made for him. Drastic times required drastic measures. 'Sir?' said Colon, his voice muffled by the carpet. 'Yes, sergeant?'
'I've got to know... How did you... you know... get the donkey down?'
'Persuasion, sergeant.'
'What? Just talking?'
'Yes, sergeant. Persuasion. And, admittedly, a sharp stick.'
'Ah! I knew–'
'The trick of getting donkeys down from minarets,' said the Patrician, as the desert unwound below them, 'is always to find that part of the donkey which seriously wishes to get down.' The wind had settled. The bird up on the cliffs had shut down for the night. All Vimes could hear was the sizzle of the little desert creatures. Then Ahmed's voice said: 'I am genuinely impressed, Sir Samuel.'