The Fifth Elephant

'That's right,' he said, putting an arm around him. 'A city which, incidentally, always has a job in the Watch for a young man of ability—'

Tantony's body stiffened. He pushed Vimes's arm away. 'You insult me, milord. This is my country!'

'Ah.' Vimes was aware of Carrot and Angua watching from the landing.

'But I will not see it dishonoured, either,' said the captain. 'This isn't right. I saw what happened last night. You swept up the King and your troll caught the chandelier! And then they said you'd tried to kill the King and you'd killed dwarfs when you escaped...'

'Are you in charge of the Watch here?'

'No. That's the job of the burgomaster.'

'And who gives him his orders?'

'Everyone,' said Tantony bitterly. Vimes nodded. Been there, he thought. Been there, done that, bought the doublet...

'Are you going to stop me taking my people out of here?'

'How can you do that? The dwarfs surround us!,

'We're going to use... diplomatic channels. Just show me where everyone is, and we'll be off. If it's any help I can hit you over the head and tie you up...'

'That will not be required. The dwarf and the troll are in the cellar. Her ladyship is... I assume she's wherever the Baron took her.'

Vimes felt the little trickle of superheated ice down his spine. 'Took her?' he said hoarsely.

'Well, yes.' Tantony stepped back from Vimes's expression. 'She knew the Baroness, sir! She said they were old friends! She said they could sort it all out! And then...' Tantony's voice became a mumble, seared into silence by the look on Vimes's face.

When Vimes spoke, it was in a monotone as threatening as a spear.

'You are standing there in your shiny breastplate and your silly helmet and your sword without a single notch in the blade and your stupid trousers and you are telling me that you let my wife be taken away by werewolves?'

Tantony took a step backwards. 'It was the Baron—'

'And you don't argue with barons. Right. You don't argue with anyone. Do you know what? I'm ashamed, ashamed to think that something like you is called a watchman. Now give me those keys.'

The man had gone red.

'You've obeyed any orders,' said Vimes. 'Don't... even... think... about... disobeying... that... one.'

Carrot reached the bottom of the stairs and put a hand on Vimes's shoulder.

'Steady, Mister Vimes.'

Tantony looked from one to the other and made a life decision.

'I hope you... find your lady, milord.' He produced a bunch of keys and handed them over. 'I really do.'

Vimes, still fighting for breath, wordlessly passed the keys to Carrot. 'Let them out,' he said.

'Are you going to the werewolves' castle?' Tantony panted.

'Yes.'

'You won't stand a chance, milord. They do as they please.'

'Then they've got to be stopped.'

'You can't. The old one understood the rules, but Wolfgang, he doesn't obey anything!'

'All the more reason to stop him, then. Ah, Detritus.' The troll saluted. 'You've got your bow, I see. Treated you well, did they?'

'Dey called me a ficko troll,' said Detritus darkly. 'One of dem kicked me inna rocks.' 'Was it this one?'

No.

'But he is their captain,' said Vimes, stepping away from Tantony. 'Sergeant, I order you: shoot him down.'

In one movement the troll had the crossbow balanced on his shoulder and was sighting along the massive package of arrows. Tantony went pale.

'Well, go on,' said Vimes. 'It was an order, sergeant.'

Detritus lowered the bow. 'I ain't dat fick, sir.'

'I gave you an order!'

'Den you can do wid dat order what Boulder der Lintel did wid his bag of gravel, sir! Wid respect, o'course.'

Vimes walked across and patted the shaking Tantony on his shoulder.

'Just making a point,' he said.

'However,' said Detritus, 'if you can find der man dat kicked me inna rocks, I should be happy to give him a flick around der earhole. I know which one it was. He's der one walkin' wid der limp.'

Lady Sybil drank her wine carefully. It didn't taste very nice. In fact, quite a lot of things weren't very nice.

She wasn't a good cook. She'd never been taught proper cookery; at her school it had always been assumed that other people would be doing the cooking and that in any case it would be for fifty people using at least four types of fork. Such dishes as she had mastered were dainty things on doilies.

But she cooked for Sam because she vaguely felt that a wife ought to and, besides, he was an eater who entirely matched her kitchen skills. He liked burnt sausages and fried eggs that went boing when you tried to stick a fork in them. If you gave him caviare, he'd want it in batter. He was an easy man to feed, if you always kept some lard in the house.

But the food here tasted as though it had been cooked by someone who had never even tried before. She'd seen the kitchens, when Serafine had given her the little tour, and they'd just about do for a cottage. The game larders, on the other hand, were the size of barns. She'd never seen so many dead things hanging up.