'Right, sir. Well, sir. First, it's the wages.'
'The wages?' said Lord Vetinari. He stared at Vimes, who stared at nothing.
The sergeant raised his head. His expression was the determined expression of a man who is going to see it through.
'Yes, sir,' he said. 'Thirty dollars a month. It's not right. We think,' he licked his lips and glanced behind him at the other two, who were making vague encouraging motions,'we think a basic rate of, er, thirty-five dollars? A month?' He stared at the Patrician's stony expression. 'With increments as per rank? We thought five dollars.'
He licked his lips again, unnerved by the Patrician's expression. 'We won't go below four,' he said. 'And that's flat. Sorry, your Highness, but there it is.'
The Patrician glanced again at Vimes's impassive face, then looked back at the rank.
'That's it?'he said.
Nobby whispered in Colon's ear and then darted back. The sweating sergeant gripped his helmet as though it was the only real thing in the world.
'There was another thing, your reverence,' he said.
'Ah.' The Patrician smiled knowingly.
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