Men at Arms

The Patrician looked at Carrot. He seemed to be shuffling futures in his head. Then:

“Yes. I accede to all the requests, except the one involving Corporal Nobbs. And you, I think, should be promoted to Captain.”

“Ye-es. I agree, sir. That would be a good thing for Ankh-Morpork. But I will not command the Watch, if that's what you mean.”

“Why not?”

“Because I could command the Watch. Because… people should do things because an officer tells them. They shouldn't do it just because Corporal Carrot says so. Just because Corporal Carrot is… good at being obeyed.” Carrot's face was carefully blank.

“An interesting point.”

“But there used to be a rank, in the old days. Commander of the Watch. I suggest Samuel Vimes.”

The Patrician leaned back. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Commander of the Watch. Of course, that became a rather unpopular job, after all that business with Lorenzo the Kind. It was a Vimes who held the post in those days. I've never liked to ask him if he was an ancestor.”

“He was, sir. I looked it up.”

“Would he accept?”

“Is the High Priest an Offlian? Does a dragon explode in the woods?”

The Patrician steepled his fingers and looked at Carrot over the top of them. It was a mannerism that had unnerved many.

“But, you see, captain, the trouble with Sam Vimes is that he upsets a lot of important people. And I think that a Commander of the Watch would have to move in very exalted circles, attend Guild functions…”

They exchanged glances. The Patrician got the best of the bargain, since Carrot's face was bigger. Both of them were trying not to grin.

“An excellent choice, in fact,” said the Patrician.

“I'd taken the liberty, sir, of drafting a letter to the cap—to Mr Vimes on your behalf. Just to save you trouble, sir. Perhaps you'd care to have a look?”

“You think of everything, don't you?”

“I hope so, sir.”

Lord Vetinari read the letter. He smiled once or twice. Then he picked up his pen, signed at the bottom, and handed it back.

“And is that the last of your dema—requests?”

Carrot scratched his ear.

“There is one, actually. I need a home for a small dog. It must have a large garden, a warm spot by the fire, and happy laughing children.”

“Good heavens. Really? Well, I suppose we can find one.”

“Thank you, sir. That's all, I think.”

The Patrician stood up and limped over to the window. It was dusk. Lights were being lit all over the city.

With his back to Carrot he said, “Tell me, captain… this business about there being an heir to the throne… What do you think about it?”

“I don't think about it, sir. That's all sword-in-a-stone nonsense. Kings don't come out of nowhere, waving a sword and putting everything right. Everyone knows that.”

“But there was some talk of… evidence?”

“No-one seems to know where it is, sir.”

“When I spoke to Captain… to Commander Vimes he said you'd got it.”

“Then I must have put it down somewhere. I'm sure I couldn't say where, sir.”

“My word, I hope you absent-mindedly put it down somewhere safe.”

“I'm sure it's… well guarded, sir.”

“I think you've learned a lot from Cap—Commander Vimes, captain.”

“Sir. My father always said I was a quick learner, sir.”

“Perhaps the city does need a king, though. Have you considered that?”

“Like a fish needs a… er… a thing that doesn't work underwater, sir.”

“Yet a king can appeal to the emotions of his subjects, captain. In… very much the same way as you did recently, I understand.”

“Yes, sir. But what will he do next day? You can't treat people like puppet dolls. No, sir. Mr Vimes always said a man has got to know his limitations. If there was a king, then the best thing he could do would be to get on with a decent day's work—”

“Indeed.”

“But if there was some pressing need… then perhaps he'd think again.” Carrot brightened up. “It's a bit like being a guard, really. When you need us, you really need us. And when you don't… well, best if we just walk around the streets and shout All's Well. Providing all is well, of course.”

“Captain Carrot,” said Lord Vetinari, “because we understand one another so well, and I think we do understand one another… there is something I'd like to show you. Come this way.”

He led the way into the throne room, which was, empty at this time of day. As he hobbled across the wide floor he pointed ahead of him.

“I expect you know what that is, captain?”

“Oh, yes. The golden throne of Ankh-Morpork.”

“And no-one has sat in it for many hundreds of years. Have you ever wondered about it?”

“Exactly what do you mean, sir?”

“So much gold, when even the brass has been stripped off the Brass Bridge? Take a look behind the throne, will you?”

Carrot mounted the steps.

“Good grief!”

The Patrician looked over his shoulder.

“It's just gold foil over wood…”

“Quite so.”

It was hardly even wood any more. Rot and worms had fought one another to a standstill over the last biodegradable fragment. Carrot prodded it with his sword, and part of it drifted gently away in a puff of dust.

“What do you think about this, captain?”

Carrot stood up.