Jingo: A Novel of Discworld
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It isn't much of an island that rises up one moonless night from the depths of the Circle Sea—just a few square miles of silt and some old ruins. Unfortunately, the historically disputed lump of land called Leshp is once again floating directly between Ankh-Morpork and the city of Al-Khali on the coast of Klatch—which is spark enough to ignite that glorious international pastime called "war." Pressed into patriotic service, Commander Sam Vimes thinks he should be leading his loyal watchmen, female watchdwarf, and lady werewolf into battle against local malefactors rather than against uncomfortably well-armed strangers in the Klatchian desert. But war is, after all, simply the greatest of all crimes—and it's Sir Samuel's sworn duty to seek out criminal masterminds wherever they may be hiding and lock them away before they can do any real damage . . . even the ones on his side.
‘We . . . we . . . we . . . just went on a little voyage, sir. He said I wasn’t to say we went under the island, sir!’ ‘So you— Under Leshp?’ ‘Nossir! We didn’t go down there! Stinking hole it was, too. Stunk of rotten eggs, the whole bloody cave, and as big as the city, believe me!’ ‘I bet you’re glad you didn’t go, then.’ Nobby looked relieved. ‘That’s right, sir.’ Vimes sniffed. ‘Are you using some kind of aft—’ – he corrected himself – ‘some kind of insteadofshave, Nobby?’ ‘No, sir?’
underwater, some distant talking. Then the door opened. ‘Fred’s here. Vetinari wants you,’ said Sybil. ‘Already? But we haven’t even started dinner.’ ‘I’m coming with you, Sam. He can’t keep on calling you out at all hours, you know.’ Sam Vimes tried to look as serious as any man can when he’s holding a loofah. ‘Sybil, I’m the Commander of the Watch and he’s the ruler of the city. It’s not like going to complain to the teacher because I’m not doing well in geography . . .’ ‘I said I’m
a mile, if one detaches the endless belt from the driving wheels and uses the oxen to wind the windlass.’ ‘Really?’ said Vetinari, taking in the carefully numbered parts. ‘And it could be built?’ ‘What? Oh, yes. Macaroon? In theory.’ ‘In theory?’ ‘No one would ever actually do it. Raining unquenchable fire down upon fellow humans? Hah!’ Leonard sprayed macaroon crumbs. ‘You’d never find an artisan to build it, or a soldier who would pull the lever . . . That’s part 3(b) on the plan, just
mitigating circumstances, but politically it was a most ill-advised action, Vimes. I cannot pretend to know what has happened to the Prince, but frankly you seem to have taken a positive delight in making matters worse.’ Can you climb, Mr Vimes? Vimes said nothing. The other man had been carrying something bulky over his shoulder . . . ‘You are removed from authority, commander. And the Watch will come under the direct command of this council. Is that understood?’ Rust turned to Carrot.
they’re—’ ‘The D’regs are worse, sergeant. They pacify right back at you.’ ‘I didn’t say how mad the Savatars were, sir.’ ‘Compared to the D’regs, they were merely slightly vexed.’ The sergeant felt that his reputation was being impugned. ‘How about I take a few men and investigate, sir?’ The commander glanced at the sun again. Already the air was too hot to breathe. ‘Oh, very well. Let’s go.’ The Klatchians advanced on the camp. There were the tents, and the ash of fires. But there were