High above the streets of Ankh-Morpork, the moon-lit roofs were a maze of chimneys and turrets.  Below, the occasional late-night pedestrian left a trail of breath-smoke behind them as they truged through the slush.  A shadow moved over the roofs, towards the Isle of Gods, leaping over alleys, roping over the river.  Pausing on an adjacent rooftop, it surveyed the Watchhouse.  Apart from light in the front office, most of the building was dark.  Sideling over a few paces, the shadow could see straight into the office of Duke Samuel Vimes.

Vimes looked up from behind a stack of papers.  “Yes Angua?”  He asked, dropping a piece of paper into another tray.  “Sir, can a seargent recruit?” she asked innocently. “Yes.” “Oh good.  David?” she called.  A tall young man entered.  His hair was so blonde to be nearly white, blue eyes and long hands.  “Mr Vimes, this is constable David.  Your new secretary.”  “What!” Vimes exploded.  “Well sir, you are always complaining about the paper work.” Commented Captain Carrot from the doorway.  “Why shouldnt she find you a secretary?”  Vimes subsided.  “I suppose so,” he grumbled.  “I would have rather chosen one myself.  Why him, of all people?”  “He can be very usefull.” Angua said.  “How?” demanded Vimes.”  There was a blur and a black handled knife appeared, stuck through the papers on the desk spike.  All three blinked.  “Well Sir, now that you are attracting such high prices, we felt that we should...”  “Tilt the odds.” Carrot finished.  Vimes grumlbed again.  “Ok then, he can start with working out what to do with these letters.”  David took the bundle, and started paging through them quickly.  Then taking a pen and paper from Vime’s desk, he wrote a short note, then handed it to Vimes.  “Will this do, sir?”  Vimes read the note, grinned, signed it and gave it back to him.  “Have copys made up at the Engravers guild.”  “Where’s that?”  “Corner of Short and God Streets.”  Vimes tossed him a pouch.  “This should cover it.”  David saluted and left, followed by Carrot and Angua.  Carrot stopped him, and took the paper.  It said:
Dear Sir/Madam.
 Thank you for communicating your problems with my, Duke Samual Vimes, Commander of the City Watch, Ankh-Morpork.  I am very busy with running the City Watch, but your input is appreaciated, and will be delt with momentarily.
 Regards.
  Duke Samual Vimes, Commader of the City Watch, Ankh Morpork.
Angua grinned.  “I told you he would be usefull.”
 

Vimes looked up at a knock.  “Yes?” he asked, signing a paper, and dropping it into the Out tray.  The door opened to reveal a tall young man, in the black uniform of the Special Operations Group.  Vimes noted that his uniform had dirt and tears on it, and the man had bags under his eyes.  He saluted, but kept quiet.  “Ah, Sergeant .  I was expecting Captain Angua?”  The Sergeant  gestured towards the nearly full moon visible out of the office window.  “Oh, near that time of month already?  What happened?”  The Sergeant  nodded, took a envelope from his jerkin and approached the desk.  He glanced out the window at the building opposite.  Suddenly he leapt at Vimes, knocking him full out on the floor.  Just as they landed, a black crossbow bolt slammed into the wall next to the door.  Vimes sat up, cursed and bellowed.  “Downspout!  Pediment!  Get him!”.  An started scream answered his shout.

On the other side of the street, the assassin screamed, and grappled with at the stone hand around his ankles.  Another stone hand took hold of him, and they both held him over the street, 6 storeys below.  Looking down, he tried to believe that he could grab something on the way down.  He could indeed grab something.  The ground.  The office door flew open and Sergeant Detritus, the duty officer ran out.  Stopping under the trio he called.  “Ok, I’ll deal with it.”  The constables shrugged and let go.  The assassin screamed all the way down.  Detritus grabbed him just before he hit the ground and threw him into the office.  Looking up at Vimes’s office, he saluted.

Above Vimes watched with satisfaction. “Detritus.  Be sure to shake him down.”  Detritus saluted again, and entered the office.  Vimes turned back to the Sergeant  in his office, who was inspecting a splinter in his hand.  Below they heard the sound of various metallic objects hitting the ground.  Vimes opened the letter and read it through.  Below the cell door slammed as the assassin was put away.  Vimes looked up thoughtfully.  “Hmm.  So it went Ok overall?”  The Sergeant  nodded.  Behind him the floorboards creaked as Detritus came up the stairs.  “Come in Sergeant.” Vimes called before Detritus could knock.  He entered, holding a large sack.  “Sir, your up to 60,000 dollars now, cause he had 30,000 on him, as well as the usual equipment.  Vimes nodded.  “Good spot Sergeant .  Detritus, give the sack to him.  Did you have any troubles with him?”  Detritus grinned a 1000 carat grin.  “He said that they were going to kill you eventually, as long as someone could pay.  So I told him to have a day, then he decided to have a nap.”  “And why is that Sergeant?”  “I don’t know Sir.  I could have been his head hitting the back of the cell I guess.”  Both grinned and looked down at his desk.  “So now we’ll have another letter of complaint from Lord Downey.  Oh however will I deal with it?”  Detritus offered a suggestion.  “There’s always the privy, sir.”  Vimes looked up sniggering, then realised that the SW Sergeant  had left, taking the sack with him.  He shrugged.  “When the assassin awakes, stick his licence to his forehead, and dump him outside the guild in the normal manner.  Oh, and when Lord Downey comes to complain, as I guess he will, could you escort him up, and stay in the room?”  “Sure thing Sir.”  They both grinned at the thought.

Captain Carrot proceeded down Kings Way.  The air was fresh by Ankh-Morpork standards, it smelt of the sea, rather than the Cattle District.  From high in nobs hill, he could see over the river, to the distant Unseen University, and Dragons Landing. The Palace lurked in the middle distance, it’s bulk mainly dark apart from a single lit window high up.   It was almost supernaturally quiet.  The imp at his belt gave him a nudge.  “Hey boss, it be 2 am..  Time to do the shouting thing, yes?”  Carrot checked his watch, and agreed.  “Half three and alls we” he managed when “BOOOOOMMM!!!” echoed around the city.  Carrot regarded the pretty orange and yellow fireball raising over the Assassins guild with the eye of a fan of the Alchemists explosions.  Then the impact hit him, just as a nightshirt clad Sam Vimes ran up.  “What the hell’s happening, Carrot?”  Carrot just pointed that the diminishing fireball, which was gently forming a mushroom shape in the still morning air.  The quiet was disturbed now with the barking of dogs, the shouted queries of people, and Lord Rusts voice somewhere nearby shouting “Will you keep the bloody noise down?!”  “What time is it, Carrot?”  “Just gone 2 o’clock, Sir.”  “To bloody early, now that I’ve got accustomed to sleeping nights.  And it’s the bloody assassins guild.  Tell Angua that this is one of hers, Ok Captain?”  “Sure thing sir.  Give my warmest greetings to Sibyl.”  Along Scoone avenue they could now here the calls of frightened dragons, and Lady Sibyl telling them “Now nothings wrong, go back to sleep.”  Vimes shrugged, and wandered back along towards the house.  Captain Carrot noticed the fluffy bunny slippers the same time as his imp did.  The imp sniggered, then yelped as Carrot shut the lid on it.

Skringo Mullet was perched on top of the Assassin Guild wall, overlooking Filigree Street.  It was very quiet, and Skringo was bored.  He might have been the 14th son of on obscure lord, but he was an Assassin.  Well, an Assassin Student.  He didn’t  expect to be guarding the guild in the middle of the night.  Who would attack the Assassin Guild, for gods sake?  He distantly heard a sound like a swarm of hornets, but it didn’t seem to be a threat.  He stood up and walked along the wall, looking down into the Street.  He had just got back to his perch when he fell over asleep.  The explosion awoke him.  Running down the stairs, he ran through the gates with the crowd and looked at the crater.  “It could have killed me!” he exclaimed, looking at the crater.  INDEED.  “Oh gods.  “It did didn’t it?” he asked.  YES.  HOWEVER YOU DID NOT FEEL A THING.  IT WAS INSTANTANEOUS.  “Oh good.”  Skringo said gloomily.  “I wouldn’t have wanted to have been hurt.  I would rather of not died.”  Death shrugged.  Most people said things like this.  “Who did it?  I mean, they must have been stupid to pick a fight with the Assassins!”  NOT STUPID.  JUST ANGRY.  INFLUENTIAL GUILD, MAKE EVERYONE ANGRY AND STUPID.  THE FAIRE GODFATHER ORDERED IT.  “The who?” said the gradually diminishing shade of Skringo Mullet.  THE FAIRE GODFATHER.  HOWEVER THIS DOES NOT CONCERN YOU ANY MORE.  COME ALONG.  “Where am I going?” he asked as he almost disappeared.  NO IDEA.  IT IS YOUR AFTERLIFE.
 
 

Down in the city, outside the Assassins guild, a large golden dog inspected the smoking crater that had been the Assassins guild wall.  Behind her, against the alley walls stood several other figures, who watched as she carefully investigated the crater, ignoring the black clad figures that ran around her.  One ran into the alley, got one good look at the figures standing there, turned white and ran away.  “Now why do you think he did that?” wondered Lance-Constable Schleppel.  “Who knows, assassinating people can’t be much of a life.” Commented Sergeant  David.  The dog trotted back into the alley.  Both watch people turned around, until her voice reached them.  ‘It’s Ok now.  There isn’t any smell at all, just hot brick, burnt wood.  But with the size of that explosion, you would have thought that there would had been something left over.  Where’s Cheri?”  Schleppel looked out of the alley.  “She’s having a little trouble.  I’ll just sort it out.”  He loped out of the  alley.  The other two watch people grinned at each other.  After a scream, Constable Cheri, followed by Schleppel wandered up.  Cheri was muttering “Arrogant bastard, no dwarf....”  She stopped as she saw the crater.  Taking a thaumeter from her belt, she started to inspect the crater.  Sergeant  David followed her over.  The sides of the crater were glass, streaked with carbon from the gates.  Captain Angua was talking to Lord Downey.  “Did your guards see anything?”  “They were all killed by the explosion.”  Angua nodded, sadly. “Have you had any strange letters, threats?”  “Captain, I do not think that that is a reasonable question!  Some of my guild members have been killed!”  Both Constable Schleppel and Sergeant  David’s heads came up.  David gestured to Schleppel, who moved rather quietly for such a large being.  Looming over Lord Downey from behind, he rumbled. “Why don’t you answer the Captain’s reasonable question?”  Lord Downey blanched, then shook his head.  “No nothing like that.  Just business as usual. Apart from having my guild wall demolished, and some of my guards killed.”  Over by the crater, Constable Cheri pulled herself out of the crater, a small rod in hand.  She shook herself, then headed for Captain Angua.  When Angua looked quizzically at her, she shook her head.  “Thank you Lord Downey, we will be in touch.”  She smiled, completely without humour.  He turned his back on her.  “You shouldn’t even be here, you wouldn’t be if Vimes didn’t own the freehold.  Imagine a man like that...” he muttered, heading back into the Guild, skirting the crater.  Angua’s squad wandered back towards the Isle of Gods, and the Watchhouse, the crowds parting before them.  “Did you find anything?”  Angua asked Cheri.  “Nope, no magic, no number 1 powder smell, nothing that I could find.  Just a large, hot explosion.  Not really a real explosion, just a small crater, but VERY hot.”  They crossed over the Ankh, the crowds still parting for them.  “What puzzles me” commented Sergeant  David “Is why the guards were together.  I mean I’d understand it if it was, say Sergeant Colon, or Nobby, but Assassins breaking the rules?  Does that seem wrong to anyone?”  They all nodded. “Yes, and I bet the punishment is worse than doing the Cattleyards patrol” said David.   “So no evidence, no suspects.  This is a case that Vimes would love.” Angua concluded.  “Maybe they were pro-life?” suggested Schleppel.   They all stared at him.  “What?” Angua asked.  “May be they don’t like them killing people.” He explained.  “I love this case” commented Sergeant  David.  Angua shrugged.  “Back to the office.”

Picture a run down street, garbage covering the ground, rats playing in the shadows.  Beggars tug at legs, thieves slip through the crowds looking for marks, muggers lurk in alleys.  Street salespeople cry out thier wares.  The crowds ebb and throng.  This isn’t what the outside of the Irregulars Office.  Instead,  an upper wing of the Pseudopolis Yard building, houses  the Irregulars office.  The other stuff was just put in to confuse you.  Angua stepped away from the window and looked at her troops.  They were clustered around the room, leaning and sitting on whatever took their fancy.  “Ok, so we have a bomb of some kind, set off outside the Assassins guild in the middle of the night, no one saw anything, Assassin guards killed.  Cheri, find anything else?”  “No Captain.  Cant find anything.  Just a pile of charcoal where the guards were.  It’s like someone just...took a pile of dirt out of the ground and glazed the rest.  Most of the damage was to the Guild gates and walls.  No other casualties. Very strange. Definitely aimed at the guild, the explosion went in rather all around.”  “Ok then, has anyone heard anything while they were .. out and about?”  “No Captain”, “Nada” , “Nope”.  “Not even in Briars?”  Sergeant David spoke up.  “It’s strange in Briars at the moment.  People are very nervous, like something bad is coming, or is here.  It hasn’t felt this way since that ‘Holy Man’ came through last year, trying to get everyone up in arms against the Undead population.”  “Bastard” commented Constable Shoe.  “I couldn’t convince the Duke to arrest him.  He had me and Detritus have a bit of a talk to him, then he left.  Rather fast too.  Might come back for revenge.”  Angua shook her head.  “Why would he blow up the Assassins guild?”  “Try and put the blame on the Undead?”  “It’s possible.”  Sergeant David was paging through the filling cabinet.  He spoke up, holding a piece of paper.  “Can’t be him.  Duke Mort nabbed him for starting a riot, and put him in jail.  Shouldn’t be released for months yet.”  “Check with them anyway.”  “Yes Mam.”  “Right, the rest of you, the Patrician wants this solved, because the Assassins are making noise.  So we are all concentrating on this for now.”  No one moved.  “Don’t you have jobs to do?”  They took the hint and left.

They met in an abandoned cellar at the bottom of a maze of lanes.  One spoke: "...he is very upset.  When he gets upset, he lets people know about it.  You people make him upset.  He wants you to know this.  This is not a threat, just a friendly warning."  The other nodded, and smiled.   This was a smile completely without humour.  "You just let him know that we deeply care about your bosses health, and hope he has a long and prosperous life.  We deeply regret that this may not come to pass if he continues in his persecution of the small business men."  The other spoke again.  "My boss, he not care for your threats, and he is in perfect health, and would be happy to hear that you consider it.  However he is the Man in these parts, and if the Man is not happy, other people get hurt.  In a fair, everyone gets a slice kind of way.  He suggests that you do nothing to cause his wrath."
The other spoke:  "Is that a threat?  We don't like threats.  We tend to....deal with them.  Painfully."  The figure waved a hand, and shapes materialised out of the gloom.  Protesting innocence, it was dragged out of the room and into the alley.
"That is what will happen to anyone who will stand in our way.  Nothing can be tolerated to stand in our way.  Not the Man, not Him on the Hill.  Not anyone understand?"  Faint noises of agreement emerged from the gloom.  Far off in the distance there was a thump, just discernible over the normal street noise.  The figure nodded happily.  "Anyone, anything that stands in our way must be...dealt with appropriately.  The figure rose, and left the room, disappearing into the darkness.
 
 

A breathless constable ran into the Watchhouse.  Panting heavily he stopped at Sergeant Colon who sat at the duty desk.  "Sarge, Sarge, there's been a really strange murder up at the University."  Vimes appeared, apparently out of no-where (a skill all great managers, and several gods possess).  "What was that constable?" he snapped.   The constable snapped to attention, his breath heaving as he fought to catch his breath.  "Sir, a strange murder, or maybe just a suicide has happened up at the University.  I was patrolling Sator Square, Sir, and I heard the thump, then a Bedlow fetched me to the Arch-Chancellor, Sir, who asked me to give you this message.  He took a scroll out of his jerkin and handed it to Vimes with a salute.  Breaking the wax seal with his dagger, Vimes inspected the scroll.  Colon peered over his shoulder.  "Now there's something you don't see every day." He commented.  "What's that Fred?" asked Vimes absently.  "I said, that's something you don't see every day, Sir." He repeated.  "The smoking writing, Fred?"  "Well, that to," he allowed "but I was talking about the copper-plate writing.  Don't see much of that any more, Sir."  Vimes nodded.  "Tell me, Fred.  Is Angua's squad working yet?"  "Yes Sir, started up last week.  Already made 5,000 dollars they tell me."  "Good, good, tell Sergeant, I mean Captain Angua to come and see me please.  And put her squad on alert.  What are we calling them?"  Colon saluted.  "The Irregulars.  Nobby laughs each time someone says it, but Angua likes the name, so he stopped laughing pretty quick."  A grin passed over his face at the memory.  Vimes nodded, re-reading the scroll.  "Yes, well put them on alert.  I'll be giving this case to them.  Let Littlebottom know that she's attached to the Irregulars for this case as well.  I expect His Lordship will want to see me.."  he pulled out his clockwork watch and opened it.  Muttering under his breath he muttered "...now." Constable Visit, who was on duty at the clacks ran in, shouting "Anyone see the Duk...Oh there you are Sir.  His.."  "Yes I know, His Lordship wishes to see me.  Aren't I the lucky one.  Of you go Fred, and let them know."  Ramming his helmet on his head he strode out the door, muttering something about 'bloody clockwork soldiers.’  Fred lurched out of his seat and wandered into the passage way.  Going up several flights of stairs, he knocked on a heavy oak door.  On it, someone has scratched "The Irregulars.  If out, too bad."  He knocked and entered.  Captain Angua stood inspecting her troops as they exercised.  Fred looked and winced as his eyes flicked in and out of focus.  A young man, dressed in the Black Irregular’s uniform wandered up to him.  "Can I help you, Sarge?" he asked.  Fred nodded, looking away from the troops.  "Yes, could you tell Captain Angua I have a message for her."  He nodded amicably and wandered across the large room.  Tapping her on the shoulder, he gestured towards Colon.  Then he picked up a iron bar, then bent it into a bow, apparently without effort.  Colon tore his eyes away when Angua stopped front of him.  "Hello Sarge, what's up?"  Colon shook his head as they walked to her office, in the corner of the large room.  "Err.  Umm.  Oh yes, Vimes has good a case for you.  Some murder up at the University.  The Arch-Chancellor wants us to deal with it.  Vimes is up with his Lordship now, and reckons that he'll want us to deal with it was well."  There was a hiss-thump as a message capsule thudded into Angua's in tray.  Opening it, she read the few lines.  "Yes, your right.  I'll get started right away.  Is Cheri helping us on this one?"  Colon nodded.  "Yeah, she'll be up as soon as she has cleared the lava from her bench."  He shifted from foot to foot.  "Umm, this place gives me the whilies.  Sorry.  Can I go?"  Angua nodded, and following him out of the office shouted.  "Ok, Listen up.  We've got a real case for a change.  Schleppel, your on Duke guard.  Remember to take all their stuff and.."  "Yeah I know.  Nail them by their underpants to the gates." His deep voice rumbled. "Dave, your with me.  We'll go up to the University with Cheri as soon as she comes up.  "No worries, Captain." The young man in black nodded.  "Everyone else, keep walking.  You don't know all the city yet.  I'd say be careful, but there is not a lot that can hurt you guys.  Don't kill anyone unless you have to.  Anyway, don't get your uniform dirty."  Schleppel rumbled again.  "Good thing about black.  Don't show the stains."  A snigger passed through the Irregulars.  A hesitant knock at the door heralded the arrival of Constable Cheri, the Watch's entire forensic department.  "Come on Dave, got your stuff?" Angua asked, heading for the door.  Dave nodded, patting the various pouches around his belt.  "Another day, another body," he muttered to himself.

It is well known that magic can cause changes in surrounding people, places and things.  The Librarian and the Unseen University Library are good examples of this.  This is also why the rat who is currently trotting across the courtyard is carrying a small umbrella as protection against the rain, but what is going to happen to it in a moment, an umbrella will be absolutely no protection at all.  At the height of the storm, Rcpt stopped and looked up at the storm clouds.  “Squeak”. He said.  It said it all.  A second later a 2 ton troll landed on top of him.  A second later he was standing just beyond the debris.  There was another rat standing next to him.  It said. “SQUEAK”.  Rcpt sagged and followed the Death of Rats.  There didn’t seem to be much of a choice.

A new day dawned, the light flowing (this is The Discworld) across the plains and towards the city.  It had been cleaned by overnight storms, and steamed gently in the dawn.  In the courtyard of the Unseen University, the shadow of the Tower of Art pointed like a compass needle.  A door opened, and a bedlow walked across towards the Gates.  After entering a door near the gates, there was silence for a moment, then a scream.  The bedlow came running through the courtyard, heading for the main gates.  Passing through the shadow he tripped.  Looking to see what had caused it, he paled even and ran for the Arch-Chancellor.  Not much disturbs Bedlows, but a multiple murder managed it.

Angua, Cheri and David stood looking at it.  Mustrum Ridcully, Archchancellor of Unseen University was explaining  “... so he came to get me, and I sent for you fellows.  What do you make of it?”  David couldn’t resist.  “Maybe a rockery?”  Angua scowled at him.  “He must have come from the very top, whoever he is.”  He was, well had been a troll.  Presumably, because what he now was a pile of rocks with some diamonds on one end.  It had hit with enough force to embed him in the ancient cobblestones.  Cheri gingerly poked at the corpse.  “Hmm, granite”  she muttered.  “Pretty hard, difficult to smash like this.  Must have hit really hard.”  All four looked up at the raven encrusted Tower of Art.  A smell wafted over the group, and Ridcully turned.  “Breakfast!  Well, I’ll leave you to it.  Do you want anything?”  The others had been warned of his idea of breakfast, and even a werewolf was not interested.  “What did you find with the Bedlow’s bodies, Cheri?”  Angua asked.  “They were stabbed to death with a small knife, probably stone.  It looks like they’d fallen asleep first.  Not sure why they didn’t wake up.  Strange.”  They walked towards the entrance to the Tower. Cheri asked  “Angua, why did Mr. Vimes give this case to you as well?”  David jumped onto a low step, and it wobbled.  “How much would that troll weigh?” he interrupted.  “Oh, about 2 tons I think.  Why?”  “If this step wobbles under my weight, how could a troll climb them?”  Angua nodded.  “Lets go to the top.  If we can,” she added, looking up at the trapdoor high above.  David took off like a sprinter, leaping over missing steps.  Cheri and Angua took it more carefully.  However when he reached the top, they found him standing in the trapdoor, looking out at the roof.  “What’s up?”  “Apart from us?  Look at this.” Jumping out of the way, she looked.  The roof was covered in guano.  Taking a knife from a boot, David poked at it.  “Inch and a half thick, the rain didn’t move it.  When did the storm go through?”  “About 3am.  No one’s been up here for weeks I guess.  He probably couldn’t have come from up here.”  With a sigh of disgust he walked over to the parapet and looked over, then at it.  “And the troll couldn’t have climbed over this.”  “Why not?”  Cheri called.  Taking another look over the edge for safety’s sake, he gently nudged it.  Several pieces of rock fell.  “If we’d had a troll come over here, we’d see footprints,” he pointed to his own, “and there would be some stone missing.  As he glooped back towards them, a raven landed on a battlement nearby.  “Nevermore” it croaked.  David snapped out an arm and grabbed it.  Walking inside the tower, he sat with his legs dangling over the edge, his boots dripping guano.  He looked at it carefully.  It twisted around, trying to peck or claw him, to no avail.  “Ok raven, talk to me.”  “Ravens cant talk.” Protested Cheri.  “We’re in UU, I wouldn’t say can’t.  More maybe.  Now Mr Raven, speak up, or I’ll feed you to Schleppel.”  It is impossible for a jet black raven to go pale, but this one managed it.  “Raven’s can’t talk, and I should know, cause I’m one” it protested.  “So what did you just do?” David demanded.  “Croak Croak?” it suggested.  David grinned a feral grin.   “Lets see how well you fly with one broken wing?”  he suggested.  “No!”  “Talk then.”  “Ok, ok then.  I’m just a raven, what can you expect?  It shouldn’t happen to a bird.”  “But it will unless to talk”, promised David.  “Ok then.  Last night, middle of the storm, it was right above us right.  Most of us were hiding our heads, but I was watching the thunder.  Looking for the thunder god, whichever he was last night.  I heard a scream, then this troll fell out of the clouds and past the top of the tower, screaming all the way.  Interesting Doppler effect.”  It shrugged.  “That’s all I saw.  To bad it was a troll, otherwise could have had mash for breakfast.”  David released it.  It fluttered to a nearby step and watched them beadily.  “So a troll fell out of a storm could, misses the Tower of Art, but is close enough to look like he jumped.  He was alive, for most of the fall.  I wonder who he was.” mused Angua.  “This beats those locked room mysteries dead!” Cheri observed.  They started down the steps again, the raven fluttering in circles.  David glared at it.  “What do you want?”  “Well, it looks interesting.  Mind if I tag along?” it said.  David shrugged, and held out an arm.  “We might need ariel surveillance.  Come on then.”  It fluttered onto his arm, then walked up to his shoulder.  “Nevermore” it commented, “will a troll try to fly”  David chuckled.  “I doubt a troll could fly by itself.  Reckon it is connected Captain.  This troll, and the Assassins Guild I mean.”  Cheri perked up.  “Flying!  That is one way they could get there without anyone seeing them.”  The raven asked a question.  “Filigree Street, that’s the Assassin’s guild right?  Are there any gargoyles around there?”  Angua looked started and leapt the last six feet, David close behind.  “Raven, do you know what Schleppel looks like?”  “The watchman bogeyman?  Sure.”  “Well go and find him, and ask him to meet us at the Assassins guild please?”  “Sure.  This is fun” it’s voice receded as it skimmed over the University wall, and out over the city.  Crossing the courtyard, David remembered something, a took a slip of paper from a pocket.  “Can’t be that holy man, the one who came through last year.”  he said.  “He started a riot, and he had an ‘accident’, according to this message from the Sto Lat Watch.”  “What kind of accident?” Angua asked.  “Well, all the blood was drained from his body.  Really weird.  Strange how he was starting riots against he Undead as well.  The watch could not find any evidence, apart from the Undead in Sto Lat looking a lot happier.”  “Quite.”  They stared out at Sator Square, through the gates of Unseen University.  Crowds thronged them.  “Captain, what would happen if our ‘bombers’ decided to set bombs on the street during the day?”  All three went pale.  “We’d better just catch them before they can then, hadn’t we Sergeant?”  “Yes Mam!”

“Arie!  Ower airy.  Ou ow, appity appity.” said the gargoyle.  Angua was perched on a window sill, David was holding onto a washing line with his feet on another’s bracket.  Schleppel and Cheri watched from below.  “Appity, appity?” it tried again.  They all stared at it not understanding.  It rolled it’s eyes stonily.  The Raven spoke.  “Fairy?”  “Es!  Airie!  Ew ut, opped uming, ew ot en.  “It says a fairy flew up, dropped some shinny stuff  anna package then flew off again.”  “En ooom!”  The gargoyle waved it’s arms slowly, nearly knocking David off his perch.  Angua mused.  “Hmm.  Thanks you very much.  Schleppel, can you let me down now please?”  “Sure thing boss.”  Schleppel reached up and gently lowered her down.  David leapt across the alley and grabbed onto a down spout, which creaked under his weight.  Leaping to a window sill, he dropped the last 12 feet to the alley, just beating Schleppel, who had climbed up the other wall.  The raven landed on David’s shoulder.  “Impressive” he whispered into his ear.”  “Fairies. What would farie’s get from blowing up the Assassin guild gates?” Angua muttered.  “Who in AM would know the most about the faire?”  Her eyes lit up.  “Closing Time at the Drum.” To her squad’s general confused faces.

The Librarian was gently knuckling his way along the rooftops after another night of drinking at the Drum.  He enjoyed this time of day, most of the wizards were asleep, everyone else was down on street level, and any Assassin knew to keep out of his way.  So it was rather a surprise when a huge hand plucked him from the air as he leapt over an alley.  “Eeek!”  Schleppel put home down carefully. Standing in front of him Angua smiled.  “Hello again!  We’ve some questions for you”  “Oook”  The raven whispered into David’s ear.  “He says You could have asked him at the Library.”  “Oh no, couldn’t have done that.  I know that you don’t like me, but as a Irregular’s Constable, you have to do what I say.  Anyway, it could be interesting.”  Something prickled at the corner of David’s conscious.  He turned his head slowly.  A small head was watching from around a corner.  What was strange was how it was 12 feet from the ground.  “Oook, ook.”  “So we need a good look at the faire, before we know how to fight it, and find it.”  The Librarian nodded, then scrambled up the wall again, taking care to keep away from Schleppel.  Angua turned around to see David stalking along the wall.  He leapt, grabbing at the head.  To it’s and his great surprise he managed to catch it.  He was dragged around the corner, the rest of the watch in hot pursuit.  The rest of the watch came around the corner to see David hanging onto a blanket, which was bobbing around in the air.  “What do you have?” Angua called.  “No idea.  Just threw the sack over it.”  Schleppel reached up and tugged gently at his leg, pulling him down.  As he reached ground level, a small stone knife slit the blanket, and a small shape blurred at David, knife in hand.  It landed it’s knife into David’s chest, just as Schleppel clapped his hands in the air.  “I do believe in faeries” he rumbled, then opened his hands.  A perfectly flat, preserved and dead faire was  against hie palms.  David looked carefully at the knife that was embedded in his chest.  Pulling it out, he looked ruefully at his black jerkin.  “Well we have a example now.”  Lets get up to the Library so that-” “BOOOOOMMM!!!”   “Bloody alchemists”, muttered Schleppel.  “That sounded a bit close.” countered David.  They walked out into Filigree Street, and saw the cloud rising over the Thieves Guild.  “Bloody Hell, another one!”  “The Boss will not be happy.”  Angua was staring at the main semaphore over the watch house.  “The big boss wants to see me and you, David. Schleppel, go up to the Library, collect Cheri on the way.  Ok?”  “Sure thing boss.”

Tick tock, tick tock, tock tick, tick tock.  Captain Angua and Sergeant David sat into the Patrician’s waiting room, watching the clock. Tick tock, tock tick, tock tock.  David stood up and walked over to the clock and looked more carefully at it.  Glancing warily at the door to the office, he opened the front, smiled, then closed it again.  Sitting back down next to Angua he whispered ‘Dyslexic imp”.  Drumknott opened the door and ushered them in.  They both stood at attention.  Lord Vetinari sat at his desk, reading over some paperwork.  He looked up, then back down at the papers on his desk.  “Ahh, Captain, Sergeant.  Just the people I wanted to see.  Your new squad, how is it going?”  Both put their brains into a different gear.  “Rather well, my lord.  Certainly the unlicensed thieves are learning to fear us more than they fear the Thieves Guild, and I expect that this can only improve.”  “And the matter of self funding.  You stated at our previous meeting that you would solve that.  Pray, how did you manage this?”  Both Watchpeople were staring straight at the window above Vetinari’s head.  “Yes my lord.  All we do is help Duke Vimes protect himself.  In return, we get anything from the attackers, some of which we sell, some we keep.”  Sweat started to drip down Angua’s face.  “These ‘attackers’, do they tend to be Assassins?”  “Tending by the guild licence, yes my lord.  They do after all provide a lot more funding than say, a common mugger.”  “Hmm, very good.  I have had 16 complaints from the Assassins Guild of watch harassment.  More in one month than the entire watch, excepting the Traffic Division.  Very good.  Now about these bombs, a lot of people are getting rather annoyed.”  He looked up at them, locking his gaze on Captain Angua.  “Tell me, do you have a suspect?”  “No Lord.”  Now the sweat was pouring off the both of them.  “No?”  “No Lord.  There is remarkably little evidence at each scene.  However we believe the Troll ‘suicide’ this morning was also connected, just how we are not sure.”  “Thank you for that very succinct report.  However a lot of people are getting rather...nervous, so I would appreciate a quick end to this situation.  Thank for coming, I am sure that you are very busy.”  He looked down and started to look over some papers.  “You may go.”  Both Watchpeople saluted then left hurriedly.  Leaning in the corridor, both were covered with sweat.  “Now, I’ve seen some pretty frightening things in my time, but that sill caps them all.” David stated. The raven had been silent right through the interview, was almost white with terror.  “Nevermore” it croaked.  “Defiantly.  Come on, lets meet the rest at The Bucket.  Vimes will want to know what’s been happening.

Vetinari sat working at his desk.  Slowly he became aware of a low buzzing.  He looked up, listening.  Looking around the room he could see nothing that would explain it, and Leonard was not working on anything mechanical at the moment, well that morning when Vetinari has checked on him.  Turning in his chair he looked out the window at the city of Ankh-Morpork.  The wizards had been rather quiet recently, ever since their ‘project’ and the Alchemists were rebuilding since their last explosion.  Behind him, a ‘bang’ startled him.  Twisting back, one hand darting into a desk drawer he saw that a wooden vent cover had fallen out.  Slowly he relaxed, until a silver powder came spewing into the room.  Leaping to his feet, he started to move for the door, but the silver dust swarmed over him and he fell.  When he awoke, an hour later, the room was empty, he was sprawled over his desk, and in his hand was a piece of parchment.  Unravelling it carefully, with tweezers taken from a drawer, he read the smoking ink.
WE WILL TAKE PROCESSION OF YOUR CITY.  BOMBINGS WILL CONTINUE UNTIL YOU GIVE OVER TO OUR RULE.  REJOICE.  PAIN AND SUFFERING WILL BE NO MORE, AS LONG AS NO ONE PROTESTS THE RULE OF THE GODFATHER.  THIS IS NOT A WARNING.  THIS IS A PROMISE.
THE GODFATHER.
It was written in an archaic script, but it’s meaning was clear.  Ankh-Morpork had been invaded.  “Now what do I do?”, asked Vetinari.

The Bucket’s gloom was total.  Watchmen sat in huddles, drinking steadily.  In a corner near the door sat Duke Vimes, Captains Carrot and Angua, Sergeants Detritus and David, and Constable Schleppel.  All were depressed.  “So we checked over the scenes again, checked the new one carefully, asked the raven if he saw anything else, questioned people all over the city, asked our contacts.  The only thing we found is that the in all 3 cases, anyone who might have seen anything were killed.  The Bedlows at the University, the Assassin guards,  and the Thief guards.  Strange.”  The raven was halfway through a bowl of peanuts looked up.  “What did the Librarian say?”  Schleppel’s eyes lit up, and he carefully took a small book from his uniform, handing it to Angua.  She opened it, looked at the page, turned it upside down to see if it made any more sense, then shrugged.  “It’s all Klatchian to me.”  David opened it, turned it and opened to cover up.  His finger moved from right to left, from the top of the page to the other.  His lips moved.  “I can kind of understand it, it’s very old.  Let me study it, maybe I can tell you more in the morning.”  Just then the door flew open and several thieves holding crossbows ran in.  “Your money or you life!” the main thief demanded.  As his eyes accustomed to the gloom, and he released where he was, he went pale.  “Clancy.” He whispered.  “Go outside and tell me what it says on the sign please?”  Clancy took a step back and looked at the sign.  ‘The Bucket.”  “Oh Shit!” the main thief said.  “Exactly” grinned Vimes, nodding to Schleppel, who lazily backhanded the group, throwing them through the door.  Then he rose and followed them out.  David shook his head.  “Yes, anyway, I’ve got some books back at the office, maybe I can translate it.”  Schleppel came back in, holding a clinking sack.  Angua raised an eyebrow.  “15 bucks boss, pays this months rent, easily.  And some clothes to sell as well.”  Angua grinned.  David got up, still reading the book.  The raven gobbled the last few peanuts, burped and flew up to his shoulder.  “Evening all.” It said, and waved a foot.  ‘This is much more interesting than hanging around the tower!”, as it went through the door.

In the office of the the Irregulars, a single light glowed.  Any curious people looking through the window would have seen, by that said light, a desk at the far end of the room, a person sitting with several books open in front of it, a notepad and pencil.  Then they would have seen a crossbow bolt flying towards them.  But there wasn’t anyone, so there wasn’t any more ‘suicides’.  The raven perched on the picture rail above David, and muttered under it’s breath.  So did David.  “Iron is harmful, possibly relation to elves....sleeping powder?  Only works on stock- trolls, dwarfs and humans, not on those ‘altered’, werewolves, Vampires.  Also doesn’t affect ‘mythical’ beings.  Undead doesn’t work against as well....If not killed with Iron, come back alive with next moonrise.  David say up suddenly and looked across the room.  Against the corkboard on the far side of the room was the faire.  His eyes darted to the almanac pinned up at the door, then at his watch where it sat on the desk.  “Bugger!” he shouted, leaping for a crossbow against the wall.  Behind him the faire inflated like a plastic toy, it’s eye’s lightening.  It screeched, pulled the wooden pin from the board and dropped to the floor.  IT looked around the room.  David grabbed the crossbow, loaded it and swung around.  The faire was on him, it’s knife swiping at his chest.  He took a swipe with a spare arm, swatting it into a wall.  IT came back at him, making a sound like a swarm of hornets.  David’s crossbow fired, past skimming the faire, it’s iron point scoring it’s side.  It hesitated and David grabbed it, slamming it down on the desk spike.  It screamed, then went to dust.  The raven fell off the rail and landed in the dust.  “What’s all this then?  The cleaner a bit out of it?”  It looked around, noticing the crossbow bolt in the wall, the crossbow hanging from his hand and the look on his face.  “What the hell happened?”  “It came alive and attacked me.” He panted, still buzzing with shock.  “They are hard buggers to kill, I’ll tell you that.  We’d better tell the boss.”  “Ain’t you forgetting something?” the raven prompted.  It nodded towards the window, the full moon visible.  “Wont she be busy?”

Again, a silent night, not very many people around.  The constables on Palace Guard were  tired, lonely and bored.  Nothing much ever happened up here.  At least when you were on patrol, you could wander around.  One of them checked his watch.  “Another hour” he sighed to his companion.  He looked up at the full moon, partially hidden by racing clouds. Shivering, he paced back and forth, looking over the city.  He heard a sound like hornets buzzing, turned and blacked out.  David had fallen asleep at his desk when he heard the third explosion. “BOOOOOMMM!!!”  Falling out of his chair, he grabbed his faire kit and raced out the door, raven flying above.  As he came running up Lower Broadway, he could see the now familiar pillar of smoke rising above the Palace, and in the milling crowds, Watchpeople moving towards it.  “Hey Bird, where’s the gang?” he called.  “Over near the statue!”  The crowds didn’t let him through, despite his Irregulars uniform.  Instead they started to harangue him.  “Why aren’t you stopping the bombers?” “Why do we pay our taxes, if you ain’t doing anything.” “Hot Sausages, 20p each!  10p for out boys in black!”.  David scowled and concentrated.  Everyone who was in his way suddenly moved out of it, and ignored him.  Sprinting up the corridor of people, he relaxed and the crowds flowed back into the space, talking and arguing.  “I reckon it’s a Assassination attempt, myself.”  “It’s not assassin style, they like up close and personal.  And they leave a note, it’s official.” Was one conversation he heard.  Because of the full moon, the the Irregulars were understaffed.  Angua was there, however, but was unable to give orders.  She nodded at David, as Duke Vimes and Captain Carrot ran up.  “What happened?” panted Vimes.  Angua just shrugged, and nodded towards the crater.  Vimes leant against the statue and panted for breath.  “Right against the gates to.” He muttered.  Everyone went still and silent.  They all looked at each other.  Schleppel ran up, having absolutely no trouble with the crowds.  “What happened to the guards?” Vimes said quietly.  Angua ran towards the gate crater, nose to the ground, the watch in close pursuit.  She sniffed around for a moment, then sat down suddenly.  David walked over to a small patch of charcoal against the wall.  It had a copper smear running down.  Vimes went white with rage.  “What happened to the Patrician?” he demanded.  “Nothing sir, just some plaster dust.  Lucky that he wasn’t in his office, the glass would have sliced him to bits.” Answered a constable.  “If it could find some flesh.  Right, Carrot, Angua, whatsyaname, come with me.”  He stamped into the palace, past the crater and the small pile of charcoal.

For once, Vimes was not terrified of the Patrician.  He was furious.  “Those little buggers have gone to far.  I wish to give general order 13.”  Vetinari was fascinated.  He had never seen Vimes so angry before, and Vimes was generally angry.  He had to think for a moment.  Carrot prompted him.  “General Order 13.  After the recognition by the ruler of the city, the commander of the city watch can authorise deadly force to be used against committers of serious crime.”  “Really?  You really want to me to authorise your men” Angua woofed, “people”, Schleppel muttered, “members to shoot on sight any faire they see?  And why is that, Duke?”  Vimes was incandescent with rage.  His voice was perfectly reasonable.  “Because if they had used a slightly bigger bomb, you would not be here.  If you had been in your office you would have been killed.  And they have already killed two watchmen, and I don’t intend to let them kill any more.  And I do not intend to issue general order 13 to the entire watch, just the the Irregulars.”  Vetinari considered this.  “Yes, I think that would be a good idea.  Drumknott?”  The clerk appeared and put a piece of paper into his hand.  Vetinari read it, took a pen from Drumknott and signed it.  Vimes signed it and gave the paper to Angua.  “Captain, your squad is authorised for deadly force against the perpetrators of the bombings.  Do you accept this order.”  Angua nodded.  “Yes Sir.”  The Irregulars marched out, into the night.

Another cellar, somewhere else in the city.  “We have delivered our note, but we have had no response.  What will we do now Godfather?”  The figure stared at the wall.  Another figure came running down the stairs.  “They’ve declared war!” it shouted.  “What!” demanded the Godfather, leaping to it’s feet.  It grabbed the paper from the messenger’s hands.  Then he looked up and smiled.  “Gather the boys, the hunt’s a foot.”  The messenger ran out.

Schleppel was off duty, and was heading for Briars for a end of shift drink.  He liked the Bucket, but Briars was better.  Everyone knew your shape.  Turing into an alley only just big enough for his width, he wandered down it.  It may have been below the Shades, but there is very little that frightens Bogeymen.  Which is why what happend next was such a shock.  “NOW BOYS!”  The hornett buzzing of farie wings broke the night still.   Trying to swing around to see where they were comeing from, Schleppel had a blue fluffy blanket dropped over his head.  He froze, wimpering.  The Godfather came out of the shadows.  “Good work boys.  Now hide him somewhere.”  All the farie’s took hold of him and tryed to lift into the air.  Nothing happened.  They stained and Schleppel rose a inch off the groud before dropping again.  “We can’t, Boss.  He’s too heavy.” Wimpered one.  The Godfather came over, and poked him.  “Ok then.  Try again” he said, taking hold of Schleppel’s shoulder.  This time Schleppel rose into the air, and went unsteadily through the night.

Cheri was easy, just a pinch of dust.  The rest of the Irregulars was easy in comparison to Schleppel.  Now only Angua and David were left.  Angua was chosen first.

She was in wolf morph, trotting down Skittle Alley towards the watch house.  Her ears cought the distant hornett buzzing.  She spun around, teeth bared, backing to the wall.  A farie hovered seveal meters in front of her.  “Hello, Captain.  I’m afraid that we cant stand having you ... interfere in our plan for the city.”  She tensed her muscles.  “Now now, nothing like that.  You don’t interfere with out plan, we wont hurt you.  Clear.”  Wolf Angua made a deciusion and moved.  She lept forward, teeth snapping into the farie.  It screamed and collapsed.  She backed off, to see what would happen next.  What did happen next was silver chains wrapping around her muzzle, legs, body.  The chains were tightened, and she collapsed.

David was sitting in the office of the Irregulars.  The raven was watching him carefully putting something on his claws.  “What are they?” it asked a little nervously.  “Just iron claws, make them a little sharper.  Also if you see any faire, you can attack them.  Go for the eyes.”  “Cool!” it said, flexing them.  It tried to glide off the desk, but thudded into the floor.  “Maybe not so cool.” it said thoughtfully.  It managed to fly up to the desk, then put it’s head on one side.  “Do you hear that?”  it asked.  David froze.  A distant hornet swarm like-sound.  “Hmm.  Coming sooner than I expected.”  David slipped into some body armour, then strapped on arm and leg claws.  The raven said: “Hmm.  You reckon you can use them?”  David spun, one blade neatly slicing the tip of a candle.  “Probably.” he said.  He turned to face the door, expecting the onrush of faire, and got the shock of his existence when a brick flew through the window.  Raven and man stood staring at it for a moment, like they expected it to explode.  When nothing happened, David stalked over to it.  It lay on the ground like only a brick can do.  He used to point of one blade to slit the string.  The piece of paper fell open.  It said:
WE HAVE THE WEREWOLF AND THE BOGEYMAN.  STOP TRYING TO STOP US, OR THEY WILL HAVE AN ACCIDENT.  YOU ARE POWERLESS TO STOP US, SO DO NOT EVEN TRY.  THE GODFATHER.
It had stuck to it a three pieces of hair, one blonde, one a dirty brown.  The raven took one look at his face and whispered quietly "Somebody's gonna die." Something made David look up. Moonlight sleeted through the broken window. "Oh, shiiiwwooohh." A large werewolf sat in the patch of moonlight, growling under it's breath. The Raven nearly fell of it's perch in shock. David shook his fur, then nosing open the door, trotted into the night, the Raven swooping above. David trotted won the moon lit streets, tracking the acidic smell of the Faire. Loosing it in the stink of the river, he sat and thought. The Raven perched above and looked around. "Welcome to the wonderful night life of Ankh-Morpork." It muttered. David looked up at it. His eyes widened, and he ran off towards the more well lit streets. Llano Gullet was a proprietor. Not a mere shop keeper, his Emporium sold only the best. Granted that his clients were not, well, totally normal, but this was Ankh-Morpork. Everyone had money to spend, and Llano provided an essential service. Leaning on his counter, between the replacement pliers & the bottles of plasma, he sighed. Many of his clientele didn't come out on well lit nights. He'd be lucky to sell a pickled gherkin. Suddenly a scratching came at the door. "Who's there?" he demanded, hobbling to the door. Opening a spy hole, he saw startled when a raven pushed it's way through. Catching itself before it fell to the floor, it flew up to a rafter. Llano looked closer at the Raven and saw that it was carrying a Special Watch badge. Something scratched at the door again. "You'd better let him in." advised the Raven. "He's not in a mood to be kept waiting. And he's already asked politely." Llano opened the door carefully. David slunk around it. Staring at Llano, he looked at the door. Llano closed it hurriedly. Then David stared at the shop window. Llano pulled the curtain across. David slunk behind the counter. There was a feeling of sliced time and Sergeant David walked out, wearing a pair of boxer shorts. "I need a cloak with hood. It has to be at least anckle length, and I also need elbow length gloves. Heavy duty gloves." Llano shrugged. "I assume that they have to be light proof?" he asked, reaching for a cupboard. "No, moon light proof." David said, staring around the room for inspiration. Llano took a good look at David. "Try this." He said, holding out a black robe. David shrugged into it, pulling the hood down. Llano handed David a balaclava and long gloves. Putting them on, David would be totally covered from head to foot. He nodded. "I'll come back and pay you tommrow." He said. Llano shook his head. "I've heard that one before. You'll pay the 10 dollars, or you can take my clothes off now." David snarled at him, then reached out towards a wall. Pushing his finger deep into the plaster he wrote. "I owe Llano 10 dollars. Seargent David". Llano looked from the wall to David and back again. "Thank you, that will do nicely," he croaked. David nodded, pulled the gloves and balaclava on, then pulled the hood up. The Raven swooped down and dropped his badge into his hand. David opened the door and walked into the night. In a lamp lit cellar, Angua was shackled against a wall. She wore a few tattered rags, her hands held above her head by silver chains, her feet manacled together. She snarled at the farie. It casually hung of range, taunting her. "Does the silver hurt, Captain? You do realise that you have no hope of escapeing. It kicked Schleppel. He was standing in a corner, a blue fluffy banket on his head, moaning quietly. "Amazing something so simple can hurt something so powerfull. Wool. Silver. And of course, taking those who could threaten us." He said. Angua snarled again, the screamed. "Don't waste your breath." It advised. "No one can hear you." Angua jerked out again trying to hit at it.. Above, in the moon-lit alley, David stopped. Cocking his head, he listened intently, then sniffed the air. Moving to the wall, he searched for a lose knothole. Finding one, he glimsed the inside of the cellar. Looking over his shoulder at the moon, and back into the cellar, he smiled. "Maybe we should just kill you." The faire mused. "Then I wouldn't have to be on guard duty. Granted, it might be a bit difficult getting close enough, but I am sure that if we fired enough silver arrows into you, you would go down." Angua glimpsed a movement behind him and tensed. The faire took it for fear. "I do hope we will be allowed to hill you." These may have been proud words, but were totally inadequate for last words. David punched the wall as hard as he could, shattering it. Moonlight streamed in, spotlighting Angua. There was a moment of morphic uncertainty and she shook her fur. Leaping down into the room, he ripped the blanket from Schleppel head. He shook his head, and his eyes came back into focus. Angua stretched, and rubbed at the points where the silver had touched. The faire backed away, it's face an expression of shock. "Wha, Wha" it stammered. Collecting itself, it took a deep breath, ready to shout. Schleppel's fist slammed him deep into the earth behind him, David darting forward and with a swipe from a gauntleted fist nearly removed it's head. It deflated, with no mess. "I don't like faire!" rumbled Schleppel. Angua snarled her agreement, then turned to David and whined. David guessed at her question. "Llano Gullet." He said, shifting the robes. I suggest that we get out of here." Angua nodded, as Schleppel took a quick look through the wall. "Dark passage way out here, very small. No idea where it leads." David thought quickly. "We are on the edge of the Barbican here. They probably lead all through the ruins. Impossible to ferret them out." He looked at the burn like marks where Angua's wrists and ankles had been manacled. "You're in no condition for a fight, come, lets get you back to the yard." Angua nodded. Schleppel reached out and gently picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Schleppel muttered, almost under his breath. "I'll be back." David nodded, climbing out of the cellar. Taking a rock, he smashed the lamps, watching the oil run down the tunnels. "I wonder if they are fire proof' he mused.
 
 
 

THAT NEEDS FIXING.  RE WRITE IT, KILL THE FAIRE OFF, STOP THE GODFATHER FROM KILLING THE PATRICIAN.
 

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