Trolls and dwarfs had raised a huge roundhouse in Koom Valley, using giant boulders for the walls and half a fallen forest for the roof. A fire thirty yards long crackled inside. Ranged around it on long benches were the kings of more than a hundred dwarf mines, and the leaders of eighty troll clans, with their followers and servants and bodyguards. The noise was intense, the smoke was thick, the heat was a wall.

It had been a good day. Progress had been made. The guests were not mixing, that was true, but neither were they trying to kill one another. This was a promising development. The truce was holding.

At the high table, King Rhys leaned back in his makeshift throne and said: “One does not make demands of kings. One makes requests, which are graciously granted. Does he not understand?”

“I don’t think he gives a tra’ka, sir, if I may be coarse,” said Grag Bashfullsson, who was standing respectfully beside him. “And the senior dwarfs in the city will be right behind him on this. It’s not my place, sir, but I advise acquiescence.”

“And that’s all he wants? No gold, no silver, no concessions?”

“That’s all he wants, sire. But I suspect you will be hearing from Lord Vetinari before long.”

“Oh, you may be sure of that!” said the king. He sighed. “It’s a new world, Grag, but some things don’t change. Er…that…thing has left him, has it?”

“I believe so, sire.”

“You are not certain?”

The grag smiled a faint, inward smile. “Let’s just say that his reasonable request is best granted, shall we, sire?”

“Your point is taken, Grag. Thank you.”

King Rhys turned in his seat, leaned across the two empty places, and said to the Diamond King: “Do you think something has happened to them? It’s past six o’clock!”

Shine smiled, filling the hall with light. “I suspect they’ve been delayed by matters of great importance.”

“More important than this?” said the dwarf king.…and, because some things are important, the coach stood outside the magistrate’s house, down in the town. The horses stamped impatiently. The coachman waited. Inside, Lady Sybil darned a sock, because some things are important, with a faint smile on her face.

And floating out of an open upstairs window was the voice of Sam Vimes:

Nevertheless, it was close enough for now.