When Vimes stepped out into the damp dawn, two coaches were indeed standing in the yard. Detritus was idly watching the loading, while leaning on the Piecemaker.

Carrot hurried over when he saw the commander.

“It’s the wizards, sir,” he said. “They’ve done something.”

The coaches looked normal enough to Vimes, and he said so.

“Oh, they look fine,” said Carrot. He reached down and put his hand on the doorsill, and added: “But they do this.”

He lifted the laden coach over his head.

“You shouldn’t be able to do that,” said Vimes.

“That’s right, sir,” said Carrot, lowering the coach gently onto the cobbles. “It doesn’t get any heavier with people inside, either. And if you come over here, sir, they’ve done something to the horses, too.”

“Any idea what they’ve done, Captain?”

“None whatsoever, sir. The coaches were just outside the university. Haddock and I drove them down here. Very light, of course. It’s the harnesses that are worrying me. See here, sir.”

“I see the leather’s very thick,” said Vimes. “And what’re all these copper knobs? Something magical?”

“Could be, sir. Something happens at thirteen miles an hour. I don’t know what.” Carrot patted the side of the coach, which slid away.

“The thing is, sir, I don’t know how much of an edge this gives you.”

“What? Surely a weightless coach would—”

“Oh, it’ll help, sir, especially on the inclines. But horses can only go so fast for so long, sir, and once they’ve got the coach moving, it’s a rolling weight and not so much of a problem.”

“Thirteen miles an hour,” Vimes mused. “Hmm. That’s pretty fast.”

“Well, the mail coaches are getting nine or ten miles an hour average on many runs now,” said Carrot. “But the roads will get a lot worse when you get near Koom Valley.”

“You don’t think it’ll take wing, do you?”

“I think the wizards would have said so if it was going to do something like that, sir. But it’s funny you should mention it, because there’s seven broomsticks nailed underneath each coach.”

“What? Why don’t they just float out of the yard?”

“Magic, sir. I think they just compensate for the weight.”

“Good grief, yes. Why didn’t I think of that?” said Vimes sourly. “And that’s why I don’t like magic, Captain. ’cos it’s magic. You can’t ask questions, it’s magic. It doesn’t explain anything, it’s magic. You don’t know where it comes from, it’s magic! That’s what I don’t like about magic, it does everything by magic!”

“That’s the significant factor, sir, there’s no doubt about it,” said Carrot. “I’ll just see to the last of the packing, if you’ll excuse me…”

Vimes glared at the coaches. He probably shouldn’t have brought in the wizards, but where was the choice? Oh, they could probably have sent Sam Vimes all that way in a puff of smoke and the blink of an eye, but who’d actually arrive there, and who’d come back? How would he know if it was him? He was certain that people were not supposed to disappear like that.

Sam Vimes had always been, by nature, a pedestrian. That’s why he was also going to take Willikins, who knew how to drive. He’d also demonstrated to Vimes his ability to throw a common fish knife so hard that it was quite difficult to pull out of the wall. At times like this, Vimes liked to see a skill like that in a butler—

“’S’cuse me, sir,” said Detritus, behind him. “Could I have a word, pers’nal?”

“Yes. Of course,” said Vimes.

“I, er, hope what I said yesterday inna cells wasn’t goin’ too—”

“Can’t remember a word of it,” said Vimes.

Detritus look relieved. “Thank you, sir. Er…I want to take young Brick with us, sir. He’s got no kin here, doesn’t even know what clan he is. He’ll only get messed up again if I take my eye off’f him. An’ he’s never seen der mountains. Never been ouside der city, even!”

There was a pleading look in the troll’s eyes. Vimes recollected that his marriage to Ruby was happy but childless.

“Well, we don’t seem to have a weight problem,” he said. “All right. But you’re to keep an eye on him, okay?”

The troll beamed. “Yessir! I’ll see you don’t regret it, sir!”

“Breakfast, Sam!” called Sybil, from the doorway. A nasty suspicion gripped Vimes, and he hurried over to the other coach, where Carrot was strapping on the last bag.

“Who packed the food? Did Sybil pack the food?” he said.

“I think so, sir.”

“Was there…fruit?” said Vimes, probing the horror.

“I believe so, sir. Quite a lot. And vegetables.”

“Some bacon, surely?” Vimes was nearly begging. “Very good for a long journey, bacon. It travels well.”

“I think it’s staying at home today,” said Carrot. “I have to tell you, sir, that Lady Sybil has found out about the bacon sandwich arrangement. She said to tell you the game was up, sir.”

“I am the commander around here, you know,” said Vimes, with as much hauteur as he could muster on an empty stomach.

“Yes, sir. But Lady Sybil has a very quiet way of being firm, sir.”

“She has, hasn’t she,” said Vimes as they strolled toward the building. “I’m a very lucky man, you know,” he added, just in case Carrot may have got the wrong impression.

“Yes, sir. You are indeed.”

“Captain!”

They turned. Someone was hurrying through the gate. He had two swords strapped to his back.

“Ah, Special Constable Hancock,” said Carrot, stepping forward. “Do you have something for me?”

“Er…yes, Captain.” Hancock looked nervously at Vimes.

“This is official business, Andy,” said Vimes reassuringly.

“Not much to give you, sir. But I asked around, and a young lady sent at least two self-coded droppers to Bonk in the last week. That means it goes to the main tower there and gets handed over to whoever turns up with the right authorization. We don’t have to know who they are.”

“Well done,” said Carrot. “Any description?”

“Young lady with short hair is the best I could get. Signed the message ‘Aicalas.’ ”

Vimes burst out laughing. “Well, that’s about it. Thank you, Special Constable Hancock, very much.”

“Crime and the clacks is going to be a growing problem,” said Carrot sadly, when they were alone again.

“Quite likely, Captain,” said Vimes. “But here and now we know that our Sally is not being straight with us.”

“We can’t be certain it’s her, sir,” said Carrot.

“Oh no?” said Vimes happily. “This quite cheers me up. It’s one of the lesser-known failings of the vampire. No one knows why they do it. It goes with having big windows and easily torn curtains. A sort of undeath wish, you might say. However clever they are, they can’t resist thinking that no one will recognize their name if they spell it backwards. Let’s go.”

Vimes turned back to head into the building, and noticed a small, neat figure standing patiently by the door. It had the look of someone who was quite happy to wait. He sighed. I bargain without an axe in my hand, eh?

“Breakfast, Mr. Bashfullsson?” he said.