Стража! Стража!

           Andthentheythinkthething’sgettingtoobigandsmellyandnextthingyouknowit’seitherdowntotheMor-porkSunshineSanctuaryforLostDragonsortheoldheave-hointotheriverwitharoperoundyourneck,poorlittlebuggers."Shesatdown,arrangingaskirtthatcouldhavemadesailsforasmallfleet."Nowthen.CaptainVimes,wasit?"

           Vimeswasataloss.Ramkinslong-deadstareddownathimfromornateframeshighontheshadowywalls.Between,aroundandundertheportraitsweretheweaponsthey’dpresumablyused,andhadusedwellandoftenbythelookofthem.Suitsofarmourstoodindentedranksalongthewalls.Quiteanumber,hecouldn’thelpnoticing,hadlargeholesinthem.Theceilingwasafadedriotofmoth-eatenbanners.YoudidnotneedforensicexaminationtounderstandthatLadyRamkin’sancestorshadnevershirkedafight.

           Itwasamazingthatshewascapableofdoingsomethingsounwarlikeashavingacupoftea.

           "Myforebears,"shesaid,followinghishypnotisedgaze."Youknow,notoneRamkininthelastthousandyearshasdiedinhisbed."

           "Yes,ma’am?"

           "Sourceoffamilypride,that."

           "Yes,ma’am."

           "Quiteafewofthemhavediedinotherpeople’s,ofcourse."

           CaptainVimes’steacuprattledinitssaucer."Yes,ma’am,"hesaid.

           "Captainissuchadashingtitle,I’vealwaysthought."Shegavehimabright,brittlesmile.