Guards! Guards!

finished, “that but for this I wouldn’t be here today.”
    “What did he mean by that?”
    Varneshi’s mouth opened and shut a few times. “I’ve no idea,” he said, spinelessly.
    Anyway, the shameful thing was now at the very bottom of Carrot’s pack. Dwarfs didn’t have much truck with things like that. The ghastly preventative represented a glimpse into a world as alien as the backside of the moon.
    There had been another gift from Mr. Varneshi. It was a small but very thick book, bound in a leather that had become like wood over the years.
    It was called: The Laws And Ordinances of The Cities of Ankh And Morpork.
    “This belonged to my great-grandad as well,” he said. “This is what the Watch has to know. You have to know all the laws,” he said virtuously, “to be a good officer.”
    Perhaps Varneshi should have recalled that, in the whole of Carrot’s life, no one had ever really lied to him or given him an instruction that he wasn’t meant to take quite literally. Carrot solemnly took the book. It would never have occurred to him, if he was going to be an officer of the Watch, to be less than a good one.
    It was a five hundred mile journey and, surprisingly, quite uneventful. People who are rather more than six feet tall and nearly as broad across the shoulders often have uneventful journeys. People jump out at them from behind rocks then say things like, “Oh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
    He’d spent most of the journey reading.
    And now Ankh-Morpork was before him.
    It was a little disappointing. He’d expected high white towers rearing over the landscape, and flags. Ankh-Morpork didn’t rear. Rather, it sort of skulked, clinging to the soil as if afraid someone might steal it. There were no flags.
    There was a guard on the gate. At least, he was wearing chain-mail and the thing he was propped up against was a spear. He had to be a guard.
    Carrot saluted him and presented the letter. The man looked at it for some time.
    “Mm?” he said, eventually.
    “I think I’ve got to see Lupin Squiggle Sec’y pp,” said Carrot.
    “What’s the pp for?” said the guard suspiciously.
    “Could it be Pretty Promptly?” said Carrot, who had wondered about this himself.
    “Well, I don’t know about any Sec’y,” said the guard. “You want Captain Vimes of the Night Watch.”
    “And where is he based?” said Carrot, politely.
    “At this time of day I’d try The Bunch of Grapes in Easy Street,” said the guard. He looked Carrot up and down. “Joining the watch, are you?”
    “I hope to prove worthy, yes,” said Carrot.
    The guard gave him what could loosely be called an old-fashioned look. It was practically neolithic.
    “What was it you done?” he said.
    “I’m sorry?” said Carrot.
    “You must of done something,” said the guard.
    “My father wrote a letter,” said Carrot proudly. “I’ve been volunteered.”
    “Bloody hellfire,” said the guard.

    Now it was night again, and beyond the dread portal:
    “Are the Wheels of Torment duly spun?” said the Supreme Grand Master.
    The Elucidated Brethren shuffled around their circle.
    “Brother Watchtower?” said the Supreme Grand Master.
    “Not my job to spin the Wheels of Torment,” muttered Brother Watchtower. “’s Brother Plasterer’s job, spinning the Wheels of Torment—”
    “No it bloody well isn’t, it’s my job to oil the Axles of the Universal Lemon,” said Brother Plasterer hotly. “You always say it’s my job—”
    The Supreme Grand Master sighed in the depths of his cowl as yet another row began. From this dross he was going to forge an Age of Rationality?
    “Just shut up, will you?” he snapped. “We don’t really need the Wheels of Torment tonight. Stop it, the pair of you. Now, Brethren—you have all brought the items as instructed?”
    There was a general murmuring.
    “Place them in the Circle of Conjuration,” said the Supreme Grand Master.
    It was a sorry collection. Bring magical things, he’d said. Only Brother Fingers had produced anything worthwhile. It looked like some sort of altar ornament, best not to ask from where. The Supreme Grand Master stepped forward and prodded one of the other things with his toe.
    “What,” he said, “is this?”
    “’s a amulet,” muttered Brother Dunnykin. “’s very powerful. Bought it off a man. Guaranteed. Protects you against crocodile bites.”
    “Are you sure you can spare it?” said the Supreme Grand Master. There