The Fifth Elephant

'So that the poor buggers can be hung up by their thumbs?' said Vimes. 'No. Just you go back and tell whoever's giving the orders that all our people can go anywhere they like in this city, d'you see, whatever shape they are.'

'I don't think you can actually demand that, sir—'

'Those lads had old Burleigh & Stronginthearm weapons, Mister Skimmer. Made in Ankh-Morpork. So did the men on the gate. Trade, Mister Skimmer. Isn't that part of what diplomacy is all about? You go back and talk to whoever's in the black carriage, and then you'd better get them to lend you a horse, because I reckon we'll have gone a little way by then.'

'You could perhaps wait—'.

'Wouldn't dream of it.'

In fact the coach was outside the gates of the town before Skimmer caught up with it again.

'There will not be a problem with either of your requests,' he panted, and for a moment there appeared to be a touch of admiration in his expression.

'Good man. Tell Detritus to turn round again, will you?'

'You're grinning, Sam,' said Sybil as Vimes sat back.

'I was just thinking that I could take to the diplomatic life,' said Vimes.

'There is something else,' said Inigo, getting into the coach. 'There's some... historical artifact owned by the dwarfs, and there's a rumour—'

'How long ago was the Scone of Stone stolen?'

Inigo's mouth stayed open. Then he shut it and his eyes narrowed.

'How in the world did you know that, your grace? Mmph?'

'By the pricking of my thumbs,' said Vimes, his face carefully blank. 'I've got very odd thumbs, when it comes to pricking.'

'Really?'

'Oh, yes.'

Dogs had a much easier sex life than humans, Gaspode decided. That was something to look forward to, if he ever managed to have one.

It wasn't going to start here, that was definite. The female wolves snapped at him if he came too close, and they weren't just warnings, either. He was having to be very careful where he trod.

The really odd thing about human sex, though, was the way it went on even when people were fully clothed and sitting on opposite sides of a fire. It was in the things they said and did not say, the way they looked at one another and looked away.

The packs had changed again overnight. The mountains were higher, the snow was crisper. Most of the wolves were sitting at some distance from the fire Carrot had made - just enough distance, in fact, to establish that they were proud, wild creatures who didn't have to rely on this sort of thing, but close enough to get the benefit.

And then there was Gavin, sitting a little way off, turning to look from one to the other.

'Gavin's people hate my family,' Angua was saying. 'I told you, it's always wolves who suffer when werewolves get too powerful. Werewolves are smarter at escaping from hunters. That's why wolves much prefer vampires. Vampires leave them alone. Werewolves sometimes hunt wolves.'

'I'm surprised,' said Carrot.

Angua shrugged. 'Why? They hunt humans, don't they? We're not nice people, Carrot. We're all pretty dreadful. But my brother Wolfgang is something special. Father's frightened of him and so's Mother if she'd only admit it, but she thinks he'll make the clan powerful so she indulges him.

He drove my other brother away and he killed my sister.'

'How—?'

'He said it was an accident. Poor little Elsa. She was a yennork, just like Andrei. That's a werewolf that doesn't change, you know? I'm sure I've mentioned it. Our family throws them up from time to time. Wolfgang and I were the only classic bi-morphs in the litter. Elsa looked human all the time, even at full moon. Andrei was always a wolf.'

'You mean you had a human sister and a wolf brother?'

'No, Carrot. They were both werewolves. But the, well, the little... switch... inside them didn't work. Do you understand? They stayed the same shape. In the old days the clan would kill off a yennork quickly, and Wolfgang is a traditionalist when it comes to nastiness. He says they made the blood impure. You see, a yennork would go off and be a human or be a wolf but they'd still be carrying the werewolf blood, and then they'd marry and have children... or pups... and, well, that's where the fairytale monsters come from. People with a bit of wolf and wolves with that extra capacity for violence that is so very human.' She sighed and glanced momentarily at Gavin. 'But Elsa was harmless. After that, Andrei didn't wait for it to happen to him. He's a sheepdog over in Borogravia now. Doing well, I hear. Wins championships,' she added sourly.

She poked the fire aimlessly. 'Wolfgang's got to be stopped. He's plotting something with some of the dwarfs. They meet in the forest, Gavin says.'

'He sounds very well informed for a wolf,' said Carrot. Angua almost snarled at him.

'He's not stupid, you know. He can understand more than eight hundred words. A lot of humans get by on less! And he's got a sense of smell that's almost as good as mine! The wolves see everything. The werewolves are out all the time now. They're chasing people down. The game, we call it. The wolves get the blame. It looks like they're breaking the arrangement. And there's been these meetings, right out in the forest where they think no one will see them. Some dwarfs have got some sort of nasty scheme by the sound of it. They asked Wolfgang for help! That's like asking a vulture to pick your teeth.'

'What can you do?' said Carrot. 'If even your parents can't control him—'

'We used to fight when we were younger. 'Rough and tumble', he'd call it. But I could send him off howling. Wolfgang hates to think there's anyone who can beat him, so I don't think he'll relish the thought of me turning up. He's got plans. This part of Uberwald has always, well, worked because no one was too powerful, but if the dwarfs start squabbling amongst themselves then Wolfgang's the lad to take advantage, with his stupid uniforms and his stupid flag.'

'I don't think I want to see you fighting, though.'

'Then you can look the other way! I didn't ask you to follow me! Do you think I'm proud of this? I've got a brother who's a sheepdog!'

'A champion sheepdog,' said Carrot earnestly.

Gaspode watched Angua's expression. It was one you'd never get on a dog.

'You mean that,' she said at last. 'You actually mean that, don't you? You really do. And if you'd met him it wouldn't worry you, would it? To you everyone's a person. I have to sleep in a dog basket seven nights a month and that doesn't worry you either, does it?'

'No. You know it doesn't.'

'It should do! Don't ask me why, but it should do! You're so... unthinkingly nice about it! And sooner or later a girl can have too much nice!'

'I don't try to be nice.'

'I know. I know. I just wish you'd... oh, I don't know... complain a bit. Well, not exactly complain. Just sigh, or something.'

'Why?'

'Because... because it'd make me feel better! Oh, it's too hard to explain. It's probably a werewolf thing.'

'I'm sorry—'

'And don't be sorry all the time, either!'

Gaspode curled up so close to the fire that he steamed. Dogs had it a lot better, he decided.

The building that was to be the embassy was set back from the road in a quiet side street. They rattled under an arch into a small rear courtyard containing some stables. It reminded Vimes of a large coaching inn.