The Fifth Elephant

law.”
    “Sam?”
    “Yes, dear?”
    “I know that look. Don’t hurt anyone else, will you?”
    “Don’t worry, dear. I’m going to be civilized about it.”

    There was a cluster of dwarfs in the street outside, surrounding one lying on the snow and in a pool of blood.
    “Which way?” said Vimes, and if they didn’t understand his words they understood the question. Several of them pointed along the street.
    As he walked Vimes cradled the crossbow and lit a thin cigar.
    Now this he understood. It wasn’t damn politics, where good and bad were just, apparently, two ways of looking at the same thing or, at least, were described like that by the people who were on the side Vimes thought of as “bad.”
    It was all too complicated and, where it was complicated, it meant that someone was trying to fool you. But on the street, in hot pursuit, it was all so clear. Someone was going to be still standing at the end of the chase, and all you had to concentrate on was making sure it was you.
    On a street corner a cart had overturned and its driver was kneeling by a horse that had been ripped open.
    “Which way?”
    The man pointed.
    The new street was wider, busier, and there were a number of elegant coaches, moving slowly through the crowds. Of course…the coronation.
    But that belonged to the world of the Duke of Ankh-Morpork and, right now, he wasn’t here. There was only Sam Vimes, who didn’t much like coronations.
    There were screams up ahead, and the flow of people suddenly turned against Vimes, so that he appeared to be heading upstream, like a salmon.
    The street opened into a large square. People were running now, which suggested to Vimes that he was still going in the right direction. It was pretty clear that you’d find Wolfgang somewhere no one else wanted to be.
    A flurry of movement on one side of him became a squad of the town guard, at the trot. They halted. One of them walked back. It was Tantony.
    He looked Vimes up and down.
    “I have you to thank for last night?” he said. There were fresh scars on his face, but they were already healing. We’ve got to get an Igor, Vimes told himself.
    “Yes,” said Vimes. “The good bits and the bad bits.”
    “And you see what happens when you stand up to a werewolf?”
    Vimes opened his mouth to say “Is that a uniform you’re wearing, Captain, or is it just fancy dress?” but stopped himself in time.
    “No, it’s what happens when you’re fool enough to stand up to a werewolf with no backup and no firepower,” he said. “I’m sorry, but we all have to learn that lesson. Integrity makes very poor armor.”
    The man reddened.
    “What is your business here?” he said.
    “Our hairy friend just murdered someone in the embassy, which is—”
    “Yes, yes, Ankh-Morpork territory. But this isn’t! I am the watchman here!”
    “I’m in hot pursuit, Captain. You know the term?”
    “I…I…that doesn’t apply!” Tantony snapped.
    “Really?” Vimes raised an eyebrow. “Surely every copper knows about the rule of hot pursuit. You can chase the suspect over your legal boundary if you’re in hot pursuit. Of course, there may be a bit of legal argy-bargy once he’s caught , but we can save that for later.”
    “I intend to arrest him myself for crimes committed today!”
    “You’re too young to die. Besides, I saw him first. Tell you what…after he’s killed me, you can have a go. Fair enough?” He looked Tantony in the eye. “Now get out of the way.”
    “You know I could have you arrested.”
    “Probably, but up until now I’d got you down as an intelligent man.”
    Tantony nodded, and proved Vimes right.
    “And is there nothing you would have us do?”
    “Well, yes. You could scrape up my remains if this doesn’t work.”
    Vimes felt the man’s stare on the back of his neck as he set off again.
    There was a statue in the middle of the square. It was of the Fifth Elephant. Some ancient craftsman had tried to achieve in bronze and stone the moment when the allegorical animal had thundered down out of the sky and gifted the country its incredible mineral wealth. Around it were idealized and rather heavyset figures of dwarfs and men, holding hammers and swords, and striking noble attitudes; they probably represented Truth, Industry, Justice and Mother’s Home-Made Fat Pancakes, for all Vimes knew, but he felt truly far from home in a country where, apparently, no one wrote graffiti on public statues.
    A man was sprawled