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variety of squash! I thumb my nose at you, madam!”
    Drumknott, who was carefully arranging paperwork, smiled and said, “Another triumph, my lord?” Vetinari’s battle with the chief crossword compiler of the Ankh-Morpork Times was well known.
    â€œI am sure she is losing her grip,” said Vetinari, leaning back in his chair. “What is it that you have there, Drumknott?” He pointed at a bulky brown envelope.
    â€œCommander Vimes’s badge, sir, as delivered to me by Captain Carrot.”
    â€œSealed?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œThen it doesn’t have Vimes’s badge in it.”
    â€œNo, sir. A careful fingertip examination of the envelope suggests that it contains an empty tin of Double Thunder snuff. A conclusion confirmed by a casual sniff, my lord.”
    A still ebullient Vetinari said, “But the captain must have realized this, Drumknott.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œOf course, that would be in the nature of the commander,” said Vetinari, “and would we have him any other way? He has won a little battle and a man who can win little battles is well set up to win big ones.”
    Unusually, Drumknott hesitated a little before saying, “Yes, sir. Apropos of that, it was Lady Sybil who suggested the trip to the countryside, was it not?”
    Vetinari raised an eyebrow. “Why yes, of course, Drumknott. I can’t imagine who would propose otherwise. The brave commander is well known for his dedication to his work. Who else but his loving wife could possibly persuade him that a few weeks of jolly holiday in the countryside would be a good thing?”
    â€œWho indeed, sir,” said Drumknott, and left it at that, because there was no point in doing anything else. His master appeared to have sources of information unavailable even to Drumknott, however hard he tried, and only the heavens knew who all those were who scuttled in darkness up the long stairs. And thus life in the Oblong Office was a world of secrets and considerations and misdirections, where the nature of truth changed like the colors of the rainbow. He knew this because he played a not insignificant role in the spectrum. But to know what Lord Vetinari knew and exactly what Lord Vetinari thought would be a psychological impossibility, and a wise man would accept that and get on with his filing.
    Vetinari stood up and stared out of the window. “This is a city of beggars and thieves, Drumknott, is it not? I pride myself that we have some of the most skilled. In fact, if there were such a thing as an inter-city thieving contest, Ankh-Morpork would bring home the trophy and probably everyone’s wallets. Theft has a purpose, Drumknott, but one intrinsically feels that while there are things by nature unavailable to the common man, there are also things not to be allowed to the rich and powerful.”
    Drumknott’s understanding of his master’s thought processes would appear to an outsider to be magical, but it was amazing what could be gleaned by watching what Lord Vetinari was reading, listening to apparently pointless observations and integrating those, as only Drumknott could integrate, into current problems and concerns. He said, “Is this now about the smuggling, sir?”
    â€œQuite so, quite so. I have no problem with smuggling. It involves the qualities of enterprise, stealth and original thinking. Attributes to be encouraged in the common man. In truth, it doesn’t do that much harm and allows the man in the street a little frisson of enjoyment. Everyone should occasionally break the law in some small and delightful way, Drumknott. It’s good for the hygiene of the brain.”
    Drumknott, whose cranial cleanness could never be in dispute, said, “Nevertheless, sir, taxes must be levied and paid. The city is growing. All of this must be paid for.”
    â€œIndeed,” said Vetinari. “I could have taxed all kinds of things,