"Can I mention something else, sir?" said Sally. "I do know Angua is standing behind me."

"It"s Sergeant Angua to you," said Angua, by her ear. "You didn"t fool me, either. I told you we didn"t like snitches in the Watch. But for what it"s worth, sir, she smells like she"s telling the truth."

"Do you still have a route to the Low King?" said Vimes.

"Yes, and I"m sure he"ll-" Sally began quickly.

"These are my demands. The grags and what"s left of their guards are coming back to Ankh-Morpork with me. That includes Ardent, though I"m told it"ll be weeks before he can talk again. They"re going before Vetinari. I"ve got promises to keep, and no one is going to stop me. It"ll be tough to make any big charges stick, but I"m bloody well going to try. And since I"ll bet my dinner that Vetinari is in on all this, I expect he"ll pack "em off back to Rhys in any case. I imagine he"s got a cell that"s deep enough for comfort. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. And the other demands?"

"The same as that one, repeated in a louder voice," said Vimes. "Understood?"

"Absolutely, sir. Then I"ll resign, of course," said Sally.

Vimes"s eyes narrowed. "You"ll resign when I tell you to, lance-constable! You took the King"s Shilling, remember? And made an oath. Go and liaise!"

"You"re going to keep her?" said Angua, watching the vampire disappear into the distance.

"You said yourself she"s a good copper. We"ll see. Oh, don"t make that face, sergeant. It"s all the rage in politics these days, spying on your friends. That"s what I"m told. Like she said: look around."

"This is a bit unlike you, sir," said Angua, giving him a look of concern.

"Yes, it is, isn"t it?" said Vimes. "I had a nice sleep last night. It"s a nice day. No one is actively trying to kill me, which is nice. Thank you, sergeant. Have a nice evening."

Vimes carried Young Sam back in late afternoon light. Just as well the girl had been working for Rhys. Things might have been a bit tricky otherwise. That was the plain fact of it. Keep her on? Maybe. She"d been very useful, even Angua admitted. Besides, he"d been practically forced to take on a spy, in times of more-or-less war! If he played that right, no one would ever again dictate to him who he took on in the Watch. Doreen Winkings could rattle her false canines as much as she liked!

Hmm ... was this how Vetinari thought all the time?

He heard his name being called. A coach was coming across the rock, and Sybil was waving from the window. That was another step forward; even wagons could get up here now.

"You haven"t forgotten the dinner tonight, have you?" she said, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"No, dear." Vimes hadn"t, but he"d hoped that it might evaporate if he didn"t think about it. It was going to be Official, with both kings and lots of important lesser kings and clan leaders. And the Special Envoy from Ankh-Morpork, unfortunately. That would be Sam Vimes, scrubbed up.

At least there weren"t going to be tights and plumes. Even Sybil hadn"t been that farsighted. Regrettably, though, the town had a decent tailor who had been very keen to use all that gold braid he"d bought by accident a couple of years ago.

"Willikins will have a bath run by the time we get back," said Sybil, as the coach moved away.

"Yes, dear," said Vimes.

"Don"t look so glum! You"ll be upholding the honour of AnkhMorpork, remember!"

"Really, dear? What shall I do with the other hand?" said Vimes, settling back into the seat.

"Oh, Sam! Tonight you"ll walk with kings!"

I"d sooner be walking all by myself along Treacle Mine Road at three in the morning, Vimes thought. In the rain, with the gutters gushing. But it was a wife thing. She took such a ... a pride in him. He could never work out why.

He looked down at his arm. He"d sorted that out, at least. Exit wound indeed! It was just the way the burning oil had splashed on his skin. It might look a bit like that damn symbol, enough to put the wind up the dwarfs, but no floaty eyeball was going to get past him. Common sense and facts, that"s what worked!

After a while it dawned on him that they weren"t going into the town. They"d gone down almost as far as the lakes, but now they were heading back up on the cliff path. He could see the valley below them, opening out.

The kings were working their subjects hard, on the basis that tired warriors are less keen to fight. Teams swarmed over the rock like ants. Maybe there was a plan. There probably was. But the mountains would sneer at it every winter. You"d have to have squads here all the time, you"d need to scout the mountainsides to find and smash the big boulders before they caused trouble. Remember Koom Valley! Because, if you don"t, your history is ... history.

And maybe, behind the thunder and in the roar of the waters flowing underground, you"ll hear the laughter of dead kings.

The coach came to a halt. Sybil opened the door. "Get down, Sam Vimes," she said. "No arguing. It"s time for your portrait."

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net