Стража! Стража!

           Hehadthegracetolookslightlyembarrassed.Payingtaxeswassomethingthat,inThroat’sworld,happenedonlytootherpeople.

           "That’sright,"saidanoldwomannexttohim."Andthegutterofmyhouseleakssomethingdreadfulandthelandlordwon’tdonothing.That’swrong."

           "Andprematurebaldness,"saidthemaninfrontofher."That’swrong,too."Vimes’smouthdroppedopen.

           "Ah.Kingscancurethat,youknow,"saidanotherprotomonarchistknowingly.

           "Asamatteroffact,"saidThroat,rummaginginhispack,"I’vegotonebottleleftofthisastonishingointmentwhatismade-"heglaredatCarrot-"bysomeancientmonkswholiveonamountain-"

           "Andtheycan’tanswerback,youknow,"themonarchistwenton."That’showyoucantellthey’reroyal.Completelyincapableofit.It’stodowithbeinggracious."

           "Fancy,"saidtheleaky-gutteringwoman.

           "Money,too,"saidthemonarchist,enjoyingtheattention."Theydon’tcarryit.That’showyoucanalwaystellaking."

           "Why?It’snotthatheavy,"saidthemanwhoseremaininghairwasspreadacrossthedomeofhisheadliketheremnantofadefeatedarmy."Icancarryhundredsofdollars,noproblem."

           "Youprobablygetweakarms,beingaking,"saidthewomanwisely."Probablywiththewaving.