Стража! Стража!

           "Couldbeabitrisky,roastingdiplomats.Peopleseeapileofcharcoalcomebackontheboat,theytendtolookabitaskance."

           "Ah,thenwesay,Hothere,JohnnyKlatchian,younolike-um,bigfellalizardbelong-skybakemudhutbelong-youprettydamnchop-chop."

           "Wecouldreallysaythat?"

           "Whynot?Andthenwesay,sendplentytributetootsweet."

           "IneverdidlikethemKlatchians,"saidthewomanfirmly."Thestufftheyeat!It’sdisgustin’.Andgab-blin’awayallthetimeintheirheathenlingo..."

           Intheshadows,amatchflared.

           Vimescuppedhishandsaroundtheflame,suckedonthefoultobacco,tossedthematchintothegutterandslouchedoffdownthedamp,puddle-punctuatedalley.

           Iftherewasanythingthatdepressedhimmorethanhisowncynicism,itwasthatquiteoftenitstillwasn’tascynicalasreallife.

           We’vegotalongwiththeotherguysforcenturies,hethought.Gettingalonghaspracticallybeenallourforeignpolicy.NowIthinkI’vejustheardusdeclarewaronanancientcivilisationthatwe’vealwaysgotalongwith,moreorless,eveniftheydotalkfunny.Andafterthat,theworld.What’sworse,we’llprobablywin.

           Similarthoughts,althoughwithadifferentperspective,weregoingthroughthemindsofthecivicleadersofAnkh-Morporkwhen,nextmorning,eachreceivedashortnotebiddingthemtobeatthepalaceforaworkinglunch,byorder.

           Itdidn’tsaywhoseorder.Or,theynoted,whoselunch.

           Nowtheywereassembledintheantechamber.

           Andtherehadbeenchanges.