Jingo

description, Dorfl.”
    “That Will Not Be Necessary, Sir.”
    The crowds moved aside as Lord Vetinari walked along the quay, with Nobby and Colon behind him. At least, if it wasn’t Sergeant Colon it was a very strangely deformed camel.
    “I think I caught quite a lot of that, commander,” said Lord Vetinari. “Please do your duty.”
    “All you’ve got to do is go to the palace, sir. Let’s—”
    “You’re not going to handcuff me?”
    Vimes’s mouth dropped open. “Why should I do that?”
    “Treason is very nearly the ultimate crime, Sir Samuel. I think I should demand handcuffs.”
    “All right, if you insist.” Vimes nodded at Dorfl. “Cuff him, then.”
    “You haven’t any shackles, by any chance?” said Lord Vetinari, as Dorfl produced a pair of handcuffs. “We may as well do this thing properly—”
    “No. We don’t have any shackles.”
    “I was only trying to help, Sir Samuel. Shall we be going?”
    The crowd weren’t jeering. That was almost frightening. They were just waiting, like an audience watching to see how the trick was going to be done. They parted again as the Patrician headed toward the center of the city. He stopped and turned.
    “What was the other thing…oh yes, I don’t have to be dragged on a hurdle, do I?”
    “Only if you’re actually executed, my lord,” said Carrot, cheerfully. “Traditionally, traitors are dragged to their place of execution on a hurdle. And then you’re hung, drawn and quartered.” Carrot looked embarrassed. “I know about the hanging and quartering but I’m not sure how you’re drawn, sir.”
    “Are you any good with a pencil, captain?” said Lord Vetinari innocently.
    “No, he’s not!” said Vimes.
    “Do you actually have a hurdle?”
    “ No !” snapped Vimes.
    “Oh? Well, I believe there’s a sports equipment shop in Sheer Street. Just in case, Sir Samuel.”

    A figure walked across the trampled sand near Gebra, and paused when a voice very near ground level said, hopefully, “Bingeley-bingeley beep?”
    The Dis-organizer felt itself being picked up.
    W HAT KIND OF A THING ARE YOU ?
    “I am the Dis-organizer Mk II, with many handy hard-to-use features, Insert Name Here!”
    S UCH AS ?
    Even the Dis-organizer’s tiny mind felt slightly uneasy. The voice it was speaking to didn’t sound right.
    “I know what time it is everywhere,” it ventured.
    S O DO I .
    “Er…I can maintain an up-to-the-minute contacts directory…” The Dis-organizer felt movements that suggested the new owner had mounted a horse.
    R EALLY ? I HAVE A GREAT MANY CONTACTS .
    “There you are, then,” said the demon, trying to hold on to its rapidly draining enthusiasm. “So I make a note of them, and when you want to contact them again—”
    T HAT IS GENERALLY NOT NECESSARY . M OSTLY, THEY STAY CONTACTED .
    “Well…do you have many appointments?” There were hoofbeats, and then no sound but rushing wind.
    M ORE THAN YOU COULD POSSIBLY IMAGINE . N O …I THINK, PERHAPS, YOUR TALENTS COULD BE BETTER EMPLOYED ELSEWHERE …
    There was more rushing wind, and then a splash.

    The Rats Chamber was crowded. Guild leaders were entitled to be there, but there were plenty of other people who considered they had a right to be in at the death, too. There were even some of the senior wizards. Everyone wanted to be able to say to their grandchildren “I was there.” *
    “I feel certain I ought to be wearing more chains,” said Vetinari, as they paused in the doorway and looked at the assembled crowd.
    “Are you taking this seriously, sir?” said Vimes.
    “Incredibly seriously, commander, I assure you. But if by some chance I survive, I authorize you to buy some shackles. We must learn to do this sort of thing properly.”
    “I shall keep them handy, I assure you.”
    “Good.”
    The Patrician nodded at Lord Rust, who was flanked by Mr. Boggis and Lord Downey.
    “Good morning,” he said. “Can we make this quick? It’s going to be a busy day.”
    “It pleases you to continue to make Ankh-Morpork a laughingstock,” Rust began. His glance flicked to Vimes for a moment, and wrote him out of the universe. “This is not a formal trial, Lord Vetinari. It is an arraignment so that the charges may be known. Mr. Slant tells me that it will be many weeks before a full trial can be mounted.”
    “Expensive weeks no doubt. Shall we get on with it?” said Vetinari.
    “Mr. Slant will read the charges,” said Rust. “But in a nutshell, as you