"Signs for the picket," said Constable Shoe.
"We"ve got to picket?"
"Oh, yes." ;Well, I"ve hardly been here five minutes," said Vimes. "I probably don"t count as everyone."
Now, he was pleased to note, she looked puzzled.
"We... just heard there was some problem," she said.
"Oh, well... a new king, a coronation to organize... A few problems are bound to occur," he said. Well, he thought, so this is diplomacy. It"s like lying, only to a better class of people.
"Yes. Of course."
"Angua is well," said Vimes.
"Are you sure you won"t have a drink?" said Serafine quickly, standing up. "Ah, here is my husband - "
The Baron entered the room like a whirlwind that had swept up several dogs. They bounded ahead of him and danced around him.
"Hello! Hello!" he boomed.
Vimes looked at an enormous man - not fat, not tall, just built to perhaps one-tenth over scale. He didn"t so much have a face with a beard as a beard with, peeking over the top in that narrow gap between the moustache and the eyebrows, small remnants of face. He bore down on Vimes in a cloud of leaping bodies, hair and a smell of old carpets.
Vimes was ready for the handshake when it came, but even so had to grimace as his bones were ground together.
"Good of you to come, hey? Heard so much about you!"
But not enough, Vimes thought. He wondered if he"d ever have the use of his hand again. It was still being gripped. The dogs had transferred their attention to him. He was being sniffed.
"Greatest respect for Ankh-Morpork, hey?" said the Baron.
"Er... good," said Vimes. Blood was getting no further than his wrist.
"Have seat!" the Baron barked. Vimes had been trying to avoid the word, but that was exactly how the man spoke - in short, sharp sentences, every one an exclamation.
He was herded towards a chair. Then the Baron let go of his hand and flung himself on to the huge carpet, the excited dogs piling on top of him.
Serafine made a noise somewhere between a growl and the "Tch!" of wifely disapproval. Obediently the Baron pushed the dogs aside and flung himself into a chair.
"You"ll have to take us as you find us," said Serafine, smiling with her mouth alone. "This has always been a very informal household."
"It"s a very nice place," said Vimes weakly, staring around the enormous room. Trophy heads lined the walls, but at least there were no trolls. No weapons, either. There were no spears, no rusty old swords, not even a broken bow, which was practically against the law of castle furnishing. He stared at the wall again, and then at the carving over the fireplace. And then his gaze travelled down.
One of the dogs, and Vimes had to be clear about this - he was using the term dogs merely because they were indoors and that was a place where the word wolf was not usually encountered - was watching him. He"d never seen such an appraising look on a creature"s face. It was weighing him up.
There was something familiar about the pale gold hair that was a sort of mane. In fact it looked quite like Angua, but heavier set. And there was another difference, which was small yet horribly significant. Like Angua, it had this sense of movement stilled; but whereas Angua always looked as if she was poised to flee, this one looked poised to leap.
"The embassy is to your liking? We owned it, you know, before we sold it to Lord V... Ve..."
"Vetinari," said Vimes, reluctantly taking his eyes off the wolf.
"Of course, your people made a lot of changes," she went on.
"We"ve made a few more," said Vimes, recalling all those patches of shiny woodwork where the hunting trophies had been removed. "I must say I was really impressed with the bathroo - I"m sorry?"
There had been almost a yelp from the Baron. Serafine was glaring at her husband.
"Yes," she said sharply, "I gather interesting things have been done."