Men at Arms

all over the city.
    With his back to Carrot he said, “Tell me, captain…this business about there being a heir to the throne…What do you think about it?”
    “I don’t think about it, sir. That’s all sword-in-a-stone nonsense. Kings don’t come out of nowhere, waving a sword and putting everything right. Everyone knows that.”
    “But there was some talk of… evidence ?”
    “No one seems to know where it is, sir.”
    “When I spoke to Captain…to Commander Vimes he said you’d got it.”
    “Then I must have put it down somewhere. I’m sure I couldn’t say where, sir.”
    “My word, I hope you absent-mindedly put it down somewhere safe.”
    “I’m sure it’s…well guarded, sir.”
    “I think you’ve learned a lot from Cap— Commander Vimes, captain.”
    “Sir. My father always said I was a quick learner, sir.”
    “Perhaps the city does need a king, though. Have you considered that?”
    “Like a fish needs a…er…a thing that doesn’t work underwater, sir.”
    “Yet a king can appeal to the emotions of his subjects, captain. In…very much the same way as you did recently, I understand.”
    “Yes, sir. But what will he do next day? You can’t treat people like puppet dolls. No, sir. Mr. Vimes always said a man has got to know his limitations. If there was a king, then the best thing he could do would be to get on with a decent day’s work—”
    “Indeed.”
    “ But if there was some pressing need…then perhaps he’d think again.” Carrot brightened up. “It’s a bit like being a guard, really. When you need us, you really need us. And when you don’t…well, best if we just walk around the streets and shout All’s Well. Providing all is well, of course.”
    “Captain Carrot,” said Lord Vetinari, “because we understand one another so well, and I think we do understand one another…there is something I’d like to show you. Come this way.”
    He led the way into the throne room, which was empty at this time of day. As he hobbled across the wide floor he pointed ahead of him.
    “I expect you know what that is, captain?”
    “Oh, yes. The golden throne of Ankh-Morpork.”
    “And no one has sat in it for many hundreds of years. Have you ever wondered about it?”
    “Exactly what do you mean, sir?”
    “So much gold, when even the brass has been stripped off the Brass Bridge? Take a look behind the throne, will you?”
    Carrot mounted the steps.
    “Good grief!”
    The Patrician looked over his shoulder.
    “It’s just gold foil over wood…”
    “Quite so.”
    It was hardly even wood any more. Rot and worms had fought one another to a standstill over the last biodegradable fragment. Carrot prodded it with his sword, and part of it drifted gently away in a puff of dust.
    “What do you think about this, captain?”
    Carrot stood up.
    “On the whole, sir, it’s probably just as well that people don’t know.”
    “So I have always thought. Well, I will not keep you. I’m sure you have a lot to organize.”
    Carrot saluted.
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “I gather that you and, er, Constable Angua are getting along well?”
    “We have a very good Understanding, sir. Of course, there will be minor difficulties,” said Carrot, “but, to look on the positive side, I’ve got someone who’s always ready for a walk around the city.”
    As Carrot had his hand on the door handle Lord Vetinari called out to him.
    “Yes, sir?”
    Carrot looked back at the tall thin man, standing in the big bare room beside the golden throne filled with decay.
    “You’re a man interested in words, captain. I’d just invite you to consider something your predecessor never fully grasped.”
    “Sir?”
    “Have you ever wondered where the word ‘politician’ comes from?” said the Patrician.

    “And then there’s the committee of the Sunshine Sanctuary,” said Lady Ramkin, from her side of the dining table. “We must get you on that. And the Country Landowners’ Association. And the Friendly Flamethrowers’ League. Cheer up. You’ll find your time will just fill up like nobody’s business.”
    “Yes, dear,” said Vimes. The days stretched ahead of him, just filling up like nobody’s business with committees and good works and…nobody’s business. It was probably better than walking the streets. Lady Sybil and Mr. Vimes.
    He sighed.
    Sybil Vimes, née Ramkin, looked at him with an expression of faint concern. For as long as she’d known him, Sam Vimes had been vibrating