The Fifth Elephant

befriends.”
    “Really? What happens when I go to the lavatory?”
    “That’s up to you, sir. Mhm, mph.”
    At breakfast next morning Vimes sliced the top off a boiled egg, thinking: This is Ankh-Morpork slicing the top off a boiled egg. If I cut my toast into soldiers, we’re probably at war.
    Constable Littlebottom entered, carefully, and saluted.
    “Your message came back, sir,” she said, handing him a scrap of paper. “From Sergeant Stronginthearm. I’ve deciphered it for you. Er…the Scone from the museum’s been found, sir.”
    “Well, that’s the other shoe dropped,” said Vimes. “I was worried there for a moment.”
    “Er, in fact Constable Shoe is bothered about it,” said Cheery. “It’s a bit hard to follow what he says, but he seems to think someone made a copy of it.”
    “What, a fake of a fake? What good’s that?”
    “I really couldn’t say, sir. Your other…surmise was correct.”
    Vimes glanced at the paper.
    “Hah. Thanks, Cheery. We’ll be down shortly.”
    “You’re humming, Sam,” said Sybil, after a while. “That means that something awful is going to happen to somebody.”
    “Wonderful thing, technology,” said Vimes, buttering a slice of toast. “I can see it has its uses.”
    “And when you grin in that shiny sort of way it means that someone’s playing silly buggers and doesn’t know you’ve just thrown a six.”
    “I don’t know what you mean, dear. It’s probably the country air agreeing with me.”
    Lady Sybil put down her teacup.
    “Sam?”
    “Yes, dear?”
    “This is probably not the best time to mention it, but you know I told you I went to see old Mrs. Content? Well, she says—”
    There was another knock at the door. Lady Sybil sighed.
    This time it was Inigo who entered.
    “We should be leaving, Your Grace, if you don’t mind. I would like us to be at Slake by lunchtime and through the pass at Wilinus before dark, mhm, mhm.”
    “Do we have to rush so?” sighed Sybil.
    “The pass is…slightly dangerous,” said Inigo. “Somewhat lawless. Mhm, mhm.”
    “Only somewhat?” said Vimes.
    “I will just feel happier when it is behind us,” said Inigo. “It would be a good idea if the second coach follows us closely and your men stay alert, Your Grace.”
    “They teach you tactics in Lord Vetinari’s political office, do they, Inigo?” said Vimes.
    “Just common sense, mhm, mhm, sir.”
    “Why don’t we wait until tomorrow before attempting the pass?”
    “With respect, Your Grace, I suggest not. For one thing, the weather is worsening. And I’m sure we are being watched. We must demonstrate that there is no yellow in the Ankh-Morpork flag, mhm, mhm.”
    “There is,” said Vimes. “It’s on the owl and the collars of the hippos.”
    “I mean,” said Inigo, “that the colors of Ankh-Morpork do not run.”
    “Only since we got the new dyes,” said Vimes. “All right, all right. I know what you mean. But, look, I’m not risking the servants if there’s any danger. And there’s to be no arguing, understand? They can stay here and take the mail coach tomorrow. No one attacks the mail coaches anymore.”
    “I suggest Lady Sybil remains here, too, sir. Mhm.”
    “Absolutely not ,” said Sybil. “I wouldn’t hear of it! If it’s not too dangerous for Sam, it’s not too dangerous for me.”
    “I wouldn’t argue with her, if I were you,” said Vimes to Inigo. “I really wouldn’t.”

    The wolf was not very happy about being tethered to a tree but, as Gaspode said, never trust nobody.
    They’d paused awhile in a wood about five miles from the town. It’d be a brief stop, Carrot had said. Some of the people in the square looked the sort who treasured their lack of a sense of humor.
    After some barking and growling, Gaspode said: “You got to understand that matey here is pers’naly non gratis in local wolf society, being a bit of, ahaha, lone wolf…”
    “Yes?” Carrot was taking the roast chickens out of their sack. Gaspode’s eyes fixed on them.
    “But he hears the howlin’ at night.”
    “Ah…wolves communicate?”
    “Basic’ly your wolf howl is just another way of pissin’ against a tree to say it’s your damn tree, but there’s always bit of news, too. Something nasty’s happenin’ in Uberwald. He doesn’t know what.” Gaspode lowered his voice. “Between you and me, our friend here was well behind the door when the brains was handed out. If wolves was people, he’d be like Foul Ole