Стража! Стража!

           Thenonelong,thin,blue-veinedhandreachedoutandthefingertipstracedtheshadows.

           Well,notsomuchshadows,moreaseriesofsilhouettes.Theoutlinewasverydistinct.Inside,therewasthefamiliarpatternofbrickwork.Outside,though,somethinghadfusedthewallinaratherniceceramicsubstance,givingtheancientflettonsamelted,mirror-likefinish.

           Theshapesoutlinedinbrickworkshowedatableauofsixmenfrozeninanattitudeofsurprise.Variousupraisedhandshadquiteclearlybeenholdingknivesandcutlasses.

           ThenPatricianlookeddownsilentlyonthepileofashathisfeet.Afewstreaksofmoltenmetalmightoncehavebeentheverysameweaponsthatwerenowsodecisivelyetchedintothewall.

           "Hmm,"hesaid.

           CaptainVimesrespectfullyledhimacrossthelaneandintoFastLuckAlley,wherehepointedoutExhibitA,towhit...

           "Footprints,"hesaid."Whichisstretchingitabit,sir.They’remorewhatyou’dcallclaws.Onemightgosofarastosaytalons."

           ThePatricianstaredattheprintsinthemud.Hisexpressionwasquiteunreadable.

           "Isee,"hesaideventually."Anddoyouhaveanopinionaboutallthis,Captain?"

           Thecaptaindid.Inthehoursuntildawnhe’dhadallsortsofopinions,startingwithaconvictionthatithadbeenabigmistaketobeborn.