`Look, Sam, if-' Sybil tried.

`We can't afford a war between the trolls and the dwarfs, dear. That business the other night was just a dumb gang fight. A real war in Ankh-Morpork would wreck the place! And somehow it's all tied up with this!'

`I agree! I want to come too!' Sybil screamed.

`Besides, I'll be perfectly safe if- What?' Vimes gaped at his wife while his mental gears ripped into reverse. `No, it's too dangerous!'

`Sam Vimes, I've dreamed of visiting Koom Valley all my life, so don't dare think for one moment you're gallivanting off to see it and leaving me at home!'

`I don't gallivant! I've never gallivanted. I don't know how to vant! I don't even have a galli! But there's going to be a war there soon!'

`Then I shall tell them we're not involved,' said Sybil calmly. `That won't work!'

`Then it won't work in Ankh-Morpork either,' said Sybil, with the air of a player cunningly knocking out four dwarfs in one go. `Sam, you know you're going to lose this. There's no point in arguing. Besides, I speak dwarfish. We'll take Young Sam, too.'

`No!'

`So that's all sorted, then,' said Sybil, apparently struck by sudden deafness. `If you want to catch up with the dwarfs, I suggest we leave as soon as possible.'

Sir Reynold turned to her with his mouth open. `But, Lady Sybil, armies are already massing there. It's no place for a lady!'

Vimes winced. Sybil had made up her mind. This was going to be like watching that dwarf being flamed by dragons all over again.

Lady Sybil's bosom, which she was allowed to have, grew as she took a deep breath; it seemed to lift her slightly off the ground.

`Sir Reynold,' she said, with a side order of ice, `in the Year of the Lice my great-grandmother once cooked, personally, a full dinner for eighteen in a military redoubt that was entirely surrounded by bloodthirsty Klatchians, and she felt able to include sorbet and nuts. My grandmother, in the Year of the Quiet Monkey, defended our embassy in Pseudopolis against a mob, with no assistance but that offered by a gardener, a trained parrot and a pan of hot chip fat. My late aunt, when our coach was once held up at bow-point by two desperate highwaymen, gave them such a talking to that they actually ran away crying for their mothers, Sir Reynold, their mothers. We are no strangers to danger, Sir Reynold. May I also remind you that quite probably half the dwarfs who fought at Koom Valley were ladies? No one told them to stay at home!'

So that's settled, then, thought Vimes. We- Damn!

`Captain,' he said, `send someone to find that dwarf Grag Bashfullsson, will you? Tell him Commander Vimes presents his compliments and will indeed be leaving first thing in the morning.'

`Er, right, sir. Will do,' said Carrot.

How did he know I'd be going? Vimes wondered. I suppose it was inevitable. But he could have hung us out to dry if he'd said we'd mistreated that dwarf. And he's one of Mr Shine's pupils, I'll bet on it. Good idea to keep an eye on him, perhaps ...

When did Lord Vetinari sleep? Presumably the man must get his head down at some point, Vimes reasoned. Everyone slept. Catnaps could get you by for a while, but sooner or later you need a solid eight hours, right?

It was almost midnight, and there was Vetinari at his desk, fresh as a daisy and chilly as morning dew.

`Are you sure about this, Vimes?'

`Carrot can look after things. They've quietened down, anyway. I think most of the serious troublemakers have headed for Koom Valley.'

`A good reason, one might say, for you not to go. Vimes, I have ... agents for this sort of thing.'

`But you wanted me to hunt them down, sir!' Vimes protested. `In Koom Valley? At this time? Taking a force there now could have far-reaching consequences, Vimes!'

`Good! You told me to drag them into the light! As far as they're concerned, I am far-reaching consequences!'

`Well, certainly' said Vetinari, after staring at Vimes for longer than was comfortable. `And when you have boldly reached so far, you will need friends. I shall make sure the Low King is at least aware of your presence.'

`Don't worry, he'll find out soon enough,' growled Vimes. `Oh yes.

`I have no doubt he will. He has his agents in our city, just as I have in his. So I will do him the courtesy of telling him formally what he will in any case know. That is called politics, Vimes. It is a thing we try to do in the government.'

`But ... spies? I thought we were chums with the Low King!' `Of course we are,' said Vetinari. `And the more we know about each other, the friendlier we shall remain. We'd hardly bother to spy on our enemies. What would be the point? Is Lady Sybil happy to let you go?'

`She's coming with me. She insists:

`Is that safe?'

`Is here safe?' said Vimes, shrugging. `We had dwarfs coming up through the damn floor! Don't worry, she and Young Sam will be kept out of harm's way. I'll take Fred and Nobby. And I want to take Angua, Sally, Detritus and Cheery, too. Multi-species, sir. That always helps the politics:

`And the Summoning Dark? What about that, Vimes? Oh, don't look at me like that. It's common talk among the dwarfs. One of the dying dwarfs put a curse on everyone who was in the mine, I'm told.'

`I wouldn't know about that, sir,' said Vimes, resorting to the wooden expression that so often saw him through. `It's mystic. We don't do mystic in the Watch.'

`It's not a joke, Vimes. It's very old magic, I understand. So old, indeed, that most dwarfs have forgotten that it is magic. And it's powerful. It will be tracking them.'

`I'll just look out for a big floaty eye with a tail, then, shall I?' said Vimes. `That should make it easy.'

Vimes, I know you must be aware that the symbol is not the thing itself,' said the Patrician.

`Yessir. I know. But magic has no place in coppering. We don't use it to find culprits. We don't use it to get confessions. Because you can't trust the bloody stuff, sir. It's got a mind of its own. If there's a curse chasing these bastards, well, that's its business. But if I reach 'em first, sir, then they'll be my prisoners and it'll have to get past me.

`Vimes, Archchancellor Ridcully tells me he believes it may be a quasi-demonic entity that is untold millions of years old!'

`I've said my piece, sir,' said Vimes, staring at a point just above Lord Vetinari's head. `And it is my duty to catch up with these people. I believe they may be able to help me with my inquiries.'

`But you have no evidence, Vimes. And you are going to need very solid evidence.'

`Right. So I want to bring them back here, eyeballs on a string or not. Them and their damn guards. So's I can inquire. Someone will tell me something:

`And it'll also be to your personal satisfaction?' said Vetinari sharply.

`Is this a trick question, sir?'

`Well done, well done,' said Vetinari softly. `Lady Sybil is a remarkable woman, Vimes.'

`Yessir. She is.'

Vimes left.

After a while Vetinari's chief clerk, Drumknott, entered the room on velvet feet and placed a cup of tea in front of Vetinari. `Thank you, Drumknott. You were listening?' `Yes, sir. The commander seemed very forthright.' `They invaded his home, Drumknott.'

`Quite, sir.'

Vetinari leaned back and stared at the ceiling. `Tell me, Drumknott, are you a betting man?'

`I have been known to have the occasional little "flutter"; sir.' `Given, then, a contest between an invisible and very powerful quasi-demonic thing of pure vengeance on the one hand, and the

commander on the other, where would you wager, say... one dollar?' `I wouldn't, sir. That looks like one that would go to the judges.' `Yes,' said Vetinari, staring thoughtfully at the closed door. `Yes,