The Fifth Elephant

people in trouble might well be you.
    There were more dwarfs on the streets as they got nearer, and Vimes recognized the signs. The dwarfs all wore preoccupied looks and were walking in the same direction.
    “It’s over,” he said, as they rounded a corner. “You can tell by the sudden increase in suspiciously innocent bystanders.”
    Whatever else the emergency had been, it had been a big one. The street was strewn with debris, and a fair amount of dwarfs. Vimes slowed down.
    “Third time this week,” he said. “What’s gotten into them?”
    “Hard to say, sir,” said Carrot. Vimes shot him a glance. Carrot had been raised by dwarfs. He also, if he could possibly avoid it, never told a lie.
    “That isn’t the same as I don’t know , is it,” he said.
    The captain looked awkward.
    “I think it’s…sort of political,” he said.
    Vimes noted a throwing ax buried in a wall.
    “Yes, I can see that,” he said.
    Someone was coming along the street, and was probably the reason why the riot had broken up. Lance-Constable Bluejohn was the biggest troll Vimes had ever met. He loomed . He was so big that he didn’t stand out in a crowd because he was the crowd; people failed to see him because he was in the way. And, like many overgrown people, he was instinctively gentle and rather shy and inclined to let others tell him what to do. If fate had led him to join a gang, he’d be the muscle. In the Watch, he was the riot shield. Other watchmen were peering around him.
    “Looks like it started in Gimlet’s Delicatessen,” said Vimes, as the rest of the Watch moved in. “Get a statement off Gimlet.”
    “Not a good idea, sir,” said Carrot firmly. “He didn’t see anything.”
    “How do you know he didn’t see anything? You haven’t asked him.”
    “I know, sir. He didn’t see anything. He didn’t hear anything, either.”
    “With a mob trashing his restaurant and scrapping in the street outside?”
    “That’s right, sir.”
    “Ah. I get it. There’s none so deaf as those that won’t hear, are you saying?”
    “Something like that, sir, yes. Look, it’s all over, sir. I don’t think anyone’s seriously hurt. It’ll be for the best, sir. Please?”
    “Is this one of those private dwarf things, Captain?”
    “Yes, sir—”
    “Well, this is Ankh-Morpork, Captain, not some mine in the mountains, and it’s my job to keep the peace, and this , Captain, doesn’t look like it. What’re people going to say about rioting in the streets?”
    “They’ll say it’s another day in the life of the big city, sir,” said Carrot woodenly.
    “Yes, I suppose they would, at that. However—” Vimes picked up a groaning dwarf. “Who did this?” he demanded. “I’m not in the mood for being messed around. Come on, I want a name!”
    “Agi Hammerthief,” muttered the dwarf, struggling.
    “All right,” said Vimes, letting him go. “Write that down, Carrot.”
    “No, sir,” said Carrot.
    “Excuse me?”
    “There is no Agi Hammerthief in the city, sir.”
    “You know every dwarf?”
    “A lot of them, sir. But Agi Hammerthief is only found down mines, sir. He’s a sort of mischievous spirit, sir. For example, ‘put it where Agi puts the coal,’ sir, means—”
    “Yes, I can guess,” said Vimes. “You’re telling me that dwarf just said this riot was started by Sweet Fanny Adams?” The dwarf had disappeared smartly around a corner.
    “More or less, sir. Excuse me a moment, sir.” Carrot stepped across the street, pulling two white painted paddles out of his belt. “I’ll just get a line of sight on a tower,” he said. “I’d better send a clacks.”
    “Why?”
    “Well, we’ve kept the Patrician waiting, sir, so it’d be good manners to let him know we’re late.”
    Vimes pulled out his watch and stared at it. It was turning out to be one of those days…the sort that you got every day.

    It is in the nature of the universe that the person who always keeps you waiting ten minutes will, on the day you are ten minutes tardy, have been ready ten minutes early and will make a point of not mentioning this .
    “Sorry we’re late, sir,” said Vimes, as they entered the Oblong Office.
    “Oh, are you late?” said Lord Vetinari, looking up from his paperwork. “I really hadn’t noticed. Nothing serious, I trust.”
    “The Fools’ Guild caught fire, sir,” said Carrot.
    “Many casualties?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Well, that is a blessing,” said Lord Vetinari