The Fifth Elephant

arrows leave the bow. They were probably already fragments by the time they’d gone about a few feet. Halfway toward the doors the expanding cloud of splinters exploded into flame from the air friction.
    What hit the doors was a fireball as angry and unstoppable as the Fifth Elephant and traveling at an appreciable fraction of local light speed.
    “My gods, Detritus,” muttered Vimes, as the thunder died away, “That’s not a crossbow, that’s a national emergency…”
    A few bits of charred door crashed onto the cobbles.
    “The wolves won’t come in, Mister Vimes,” said Angua. “Gavin will follow me, but they won’t come, not even for him.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because they’re wolves, sir. They don’t feel at home in houses.”
    The only sound was the squeak-squeak of Detritus winding up his bow again.
    “The hell with it,” said Vimes, drawing his sword and stepping forward.

    Lady Sybil untucked her dress from her underwear and stepped carefully across the little courtyard. She was somewhere around the rear of the castle, as far as she could make out.
    She flattened herself as best she could against the wall when she heard a sound, and tightened her grip on one of the iron bars that had formerly graced the window.
    A large wolf came around the corner, holding a bone in its mouth. It did not look as it was expecting her, and certainly wasn’t expecting the iron bar.
    “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” said Sybil automatically, as it folded up onto the cobbles.
    There was an explosion on the other side of the castle. That sounded like Sam.

    “Do you think they heard us, sir?” said Carrot.
    “Captain, people in Ankh-Morpork probably heard us. So where are all the werewolves?”
    Angua pushed forward. “This way,” she said.
    She led them up a flight of low steps to the door of the keep, and tried one of the doors. It swung back slowly.
    There were torches in the hall, too.
    “They’ll leave us somewhere to run,” she said. “We always leave people somewhere to run…”
    A pair of smaller doors at the far end of the hall were pushed open. No handles, Vimes noted. Paws can’t use handles.
    Wolfgang stepped in. A couple dozen werewolves escorted him, fanning out around the room and sitting down… sprawling down and then watching the intruders with keen interest.
    “Ah, Civilized!” said Wolfgang cheerfully. “You won the Game! Would you like another go? When people have a second Game we give them a handicap! We bite one of their legs off! Good joke, hey?”
    “I think I prefer the Ankh-Morpork sense of humor,” said Vimes. “Where’s my wife, you bastard?” He could still hear the sound of Detritus winding. That was the trouble with the big bow. It was only a quick-fire weapon by geological standards.
    “And Delphine! Look at what the dog dragged in!” said Wolfgang, ignoring Vimes. He stepped forward. Vimes heard a growl begin in Angua’s throat, a sound which could cause instant obedience in many of Ankh-Morpork’s criminal population when they encountered it in a dark alley. There was a deeper rumble from Gavin.
    Wolfgang stopped.
    “You haven’t got the brains for this, Wolfie,” said Angua. “And you couldn’t plot your way out of a wet paper bag. Where’s Mother?” She looked around at the lolling werewolves. “Hello, Uncle Ulf…Aunt Hilda…Magwen…Nancy…Unity…The pack’s all here, then? Except for Father, who I expect is off rolling in something. What a family—”
    “I want these disgusting people out of here right away,” said the baroness, stepping into the hall. She glared at Detritus. “How dare you bring a troll into this house!”
    “O-kay, it’s all wound up,” said Detritus cheerfully, hoisting the humming bow onto his shoulder. “Where should I fire it, Mister Vimes?”
    “Good grief, not in here ! This is an enclosed building!”
    “Only up until I pull dis trigger, sir.”
    “How very civilized ,” said the baroness. “How very Ankh-Morpork. You think you merely have to threaten and the lesser races back down, eh?”
    “Have you seen your gates lately?” said Vimes.
    “We’re werewolves ,” snapped the baroness—and it was a snap, the words sharp and clipped as though they were barked. “Stupid toys like that don’t frighten us.”
    “But it’ll slow you down for a while. Now bring out Lady Sybil!”
    “Lady Sybil is resting. You are in no position to make demands, Mister Vimes. We are not the criminals here.”
    As