"Oh, dear. Lurching, are they?"
"'fraid so, Reg."
"I shall go and have a word with them," said Reg. He saluted again and marched out, with a hint of lurch.
"He's, er, from here?" said Chinny, who had gone quite pale.
"Oh, no. The undiscovered country," said Vimes. "He's dead. However, credit where it's due, he hasn't let that stop him. You didn't know we have a zombie in the Watch, Clarence?"
"Er... no, sir. I've haven't been back to the city in five years." He swallowed. "I gather things have changed."
Horribly so, in Clarence Chinny's opinion. Being consul to Zlobenia had been an easy job, which left him a lot of time to get on with his business. And then the big semaphore towers marched through, all along the valley, and suddenly Ankh-Morpork was an hour away. Before the clacks, a letter from Ankh-Morpork would take more than a two weeks to get to him, and so no one worried if he took a day or two to answer it. Now people expected a reply overnight. He'd been quite glad when Borogravia had destroyed several of those wretched towers. And then all hell had been let loose.
"We've got all sorts in the Watch," said Vimes. "And we bloody well need 'em now, Clarence, with Zlobenians and Borogravians scrapping in the streets over some damn quarrel that began a thousand years ago. It's worse than dwarfs and trolls! All because someone's great-to-the-power-of-umpteen grandmother slapped the face of someone's great-ditto uncle! Borogravia and Zlobenia can't even agree a border. They chose the river, and that changes course every spring. Suddenly the clacks towers are now on Borogravian soil - or mud, anyway - so the idiots burn them down for religious reasons."
"Er, there is more to it than that, sir," said Chinny.
"Yes, I know. I read the history. The annual scrap with Zlobenia is just the local derby. Borogravia fights everybody. Why?"
"National pride, sir."
"What in? There's nothing there! There's some tallow mines, and they're not bad farmers, but there's no great architecture, no big libraries, no famous composers, no very high mountains, no wonderful views. All you can say about the place is that it isn't anywhere else. What's so special about Borogravia?"
"I suppose it's special because it's theirs. And of course there's Nuggan, sir. Their god. I've brought you a copy of the Book of Nuggan."
"I looked through one back in the city, Chinny," said Vimes. "Seemed pretty stu - "
"That wouldn't have been a recent edition, sir. And I suspect it wouldn't be, er, very current that far from here. This one is more up to date," said Chinny, putting a small but thick book on the desk.
"Up to date? What do you mean, up to date?" said Vimes, looking puzzled. "Holy writ gets... written. Do this, don't do that, no coveting your neighbour's ox..."
"Um... Nuggan doesn't just leave it at that, sir. He, er... updates things. Mostly the Abominations, to be frank."
Vimes took the new copy. It was noticeably thicker than the one he'd brought with him.
"It's what they call a Living Testament," Chinny explained. "They - well, I suppose you could say they 'die' if they're taken out of Borogravia. They no longer... get added to. The latest Abominations are at the end, sir," said Chinny helpfully.
"This is a holy book with an appendix?"
"Exactly, sir."
"In a ring binder?"
"Quite so, sir. People put blank pages in and the Abominations... turn up."
"You mean magically?"
"I suppose I mean religiously, sir."
Vimes opened a page at random. "Chocolate?" he said. "He doesn't like chocolate?"
"Yes, sir. That's an Abomination."
"Garlic? Well, I don't much like that, so fair enough... cats?"
"Oh, yes. He really doesn't like cats, sir."
"Dwarfs? It says here 'The dwarfish race which worships Gold is an Abomination Unto Nuggan'! He must be mad. What happened there?"