"You can't teach him anything about relaxing, though," said Vimes. "Anyway, men ..."

"Oook."

"I wasn't talking to you, sir. What's this doing here?"

"Er," said Sergeant Colon hurriedly, "I, er . . . with you being away and all, and us likely to be short-handed . . . Carrot here says it's all according to the law and that ... I swore him in, sir. The ape, sir."

"Swore him in what, Sergeant?" said Vimes.

"As Special Constable, sir," said Colon, blushing. "You know, sir. Sort of citizen's Watch."

Vimes threw up his hands."Special? Bloody ' unique!"

The Librarian gave Vimes a big smile.

"Just temporarily, sir. For the duration, like," said Colon pleadingly. "We could do with the help, sir, and . . . well, he's the only one who seems to like us . . ."

"I think it's a frightfully good idea," said Lady Ramkin. "Well done, that ape."

Vimes shrugged. The world was mad enough al­ready, what could make it worse?

"Okay," he said. "Okay! I give in. Fine! Give him a badge, although I'm damned if I know where he'll wear it! Fine! Yes! Why not?"

"You all right, Captain?" said Colon, all concern.

"Fine! Fine! Welcome to the new Watch!" snapped Vimes, striding vaguely around the room. "Great! Af­ter all, we pay peanuts, don't we, so we might as well employ mon…"

The sergeant's hand slapped respectfully across Vimes's mouth.

"Er, just one thing, Captain," said Colon urgently, to Vimes's astonished eyes. "You don't use the 'M' word. Gets right up his nose, sir. He can't help it, he loses all self-control. Like a red rag to a wossname, sir. 'Ape' is all right, sir, but not the 'M' word. Be­cause, sir, when he gets angry he doesn't just go and sulk, sir, if you get my drift. He's no trouble at all apart from that, sir. All right? Just don't say monkey. Oh shit!"

The Brethren were nervous.

He'd heard them talking. Things were moving too fast for them. He thought he'd led them into the con­spiracy a bit at a time, never giving them more truth than their little brains could cope with, but he'd still overestimated them. A firm hand was needed. Firm but fair.

"Brothers," said the Supreme Grand Master, "are the Cuffs of Veracity duly enhanced?"

"What?" said Brother Watchtower vaguely. "Oh. The Cuffs. Yeah. Enhanced. Right."

"And the Martlets of Beckoning, are they fittingly divested?"

Brother Plasterer gave a guilty start. "Me? What? Oh. Fine, no problem. Divested. Yes."

The Supreme Grand Master paused.

"Brothers," he said softly. "We are so near. Just once more. Just a few hours. Once more and the world is ours. Do you understand, Brothers?"

Brother Plasterer shuffled a foot.

"Well," he said. "I mean, of course. Yes. No fears about that. Behind you one hundred and ten percent…"

He's going to say only, thought the Supreme Grand Master.

"…only…"

Ah.

"…we, that is, all of us, we've been . . . odd, re­ally, you feel so different, don't you, after summoning the dragon, sort of…"

"Cleaned out," said Brother Plasterer helpfully.

"Yes, like it's sort of…" Brother Watchtower strug­gled with the serpents of self-expression,"..taking some­thing out of you ..."

"Sucked dry," said Brother Plasterer.

"Yes, like he said, and we ... well, it's maybe it's a bit risky ..."

"Like stuff's been dragged from your actual living brain by eldritch creatures from the Beyond," said Brother Plasterer.

"I'd have said more like a bit of a sick headache, myself," said Brother Watchtower helplessly. "And we was wondering, you know, about all this stuff about cosmic balance and that, because, well, look what happened to poor old Dunnykin. Could be a bit of a judgement. Er."

"It was just a maddened crocodile hidden in a flower bed," said the Supreme Grand Master. "It could have happened to anyone. I understand your feelings, how­ever."

"You do?" said Brother Watchtower.

"Oh, yes. They're only natural. All the greatest wizards feel a little ill-at-ease before undertaking a great work such as this." The Brethren preened them­selves. Great wizards. That's us. Yeah. "But in a few hours it'll be over, and I am sure that the king will reward you handsomely. The future will be glorious."

This normally did the trick. It didn't appear to be working this time.

"But the dragon…" Brother Watchtower began.

"There won't be any dragon! We won't need it. Look," said the Supreme Grand Master, "it's quite simple. The lad will have a marvellous sword. Every­one knows kings have marvellous swords-"

"This'd be the marvellous sword you've been telling us about, would it?" said Brother Plasterer.

"And when it touches the dragon," said the Su­preme Grand Master, "it'll be . . . foom!"

"Yeah, they do that," said Brother Doorkeeper. "My uncle kicked a swamp dragon once. He found it eating his pumpkins. Damn thing nearly took his leg off."

The Supreme Grand Master sighed. A few more hours, yes, and then no more of this. The only thing he hadn't decided was whether to let them alone - who'd believe them, after all? - or send the Guard to arrest them for being terminally stupid.

"No," he said patiently, "I mean the dragon will vanish. We'll have sent it back. End of dragon."

"Won't people be a bit suspicious?" said Brother Plasterer. "Won't they expect lumps of dragon all over the place?"

"No," said the Supreme Grand Master trium­phantly, "because one touch from the Sword of Truth and Justice will totally destroy the Spawn of Evil!"

The Brethren stared at him.

"That's what they'll believe, anyway," he added. "We can provide a bit of mystic smoke at the time."

"Dead easy, mystic smoke," said Brother Fingers.

"No bits, then?" said Brother Plasterer, a shade disappointed.

Brother Watchtower coughed. "Dunno if people will accept that," he said. "Sounds a bit too neat, like."

"Listen," snapped the Supreme Grand Master, "they'll accept anything! They'll see it happen! Peo­ple will be so keen to see the boy win, they won't think twice about it! Depend upon it! Now ... let us com­mence . . ."

He concentrated.

Yes, it was easier. Easier every time. He could feel the scales, feel the rage of the dragon as he reached into the place where the dragons went and took con­trol.

This was power, and it was his.