Sergeant Colon cleared his throat. Then he straightened the hang of his breastplate. It was one of those with astonishingly impressive pectoral muscles embossed upon it. His chest and stomach fitted into it in the same way that jelly fits into a mould.
What would Captain Vimes do now? Well, he'd have a drink. But if he didn't have a drink, what would he do?
'What we need,' he said slowly, 'is a Plan.'
That sounded good. That sentence alone sounded worth the pay. If you had a Plan, you were halfway there.
And already he thought he could hear the cheering of crowds. They were lining the streets, and they were throwing flowers, and he was being carried triumphantly through the grateful city.
The drawback was, he suspected, that he was being carried in an urn.
Lupine Wonse padded along the draughty corridors to the Patrician's bedroom. It had never been a sumptuous apartment at best, and contained little more than a narrow bed and a few battered cupboards. It looked even worse now, with one wall gone. Sleepwalk at night now and you could step right into the vast cavern that was the Great Hall.
Even so, he shut the door behind him for a semblance of privacy. Then, cautiously and with many nervous glances at the great space beyond, he knelt down in the centre of the floor and pried up a board.
A long black robe was dragged into view. Then Wonse reached further down into the dusty space between the floors and rummaged around. He rummaged still further. Then he lay down and stuck both arms into the gap and flailed desperately.
A book sailed across the room and hit him in the back of the head.
'Looking for this, were you?' said Vimes.
He stepped out of the shadows.
Wonse was on his knees, his mouth opening and shutting.
What's he going to say, Vimes thought. Is it going to be: I know what this looks like, or will it be: How did you get in here, or maybe it'll be: Listen, I can explain everything. I wish I had a loaded dragon in my hands right now.
Wonse said, 'Okay. Clever of you to guess.'
Of course, that was always an outside chance, Vimes added.
'Under the floorboards,' he said aloud. 'First place anyone'd look. Rather foolish, that was.'
'I know. I suppose he didn't think anyone would be searching,' said Wonse, standing up and brushing the dust off himself.
'I'm sorry?' said Vimes pleasantly.
'Vetinari. You know how he was for scheming and things. He was involved in most of the plots against himself, that was how he ran things. He enjoyed it. Obviously he called it up and couldn't control it. Something even more cunning than he was.'
'So what were you doing?' said Vimes.
'I wondered if it might be possible to reverse the spell. Or maybe call up another dragon. They'd fight then.'
'A sort of balance of terror, you mean?' said Vimes.
'Could be worth a try,' said Wonse earnestly. He took a few steps closer. 'Look, about your job, I know we were both a bit overwrought at the time, so of course if you want it back there'll be no prob…'
'It must have been terrible,' said Vimes. 'Imagine what must have gone through his mind. He called it up, and then found it wasn't just some sort of tool but a real thing with a mind of its own. A mind just like his, but with all the brakes off. You know, I wouldn't mind betting that at the start he really thought that what he was doing was all for the best. He must have been insane. Sooner or later, anyway.'
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