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said
Throat
,
removing
a
very
hot
toasting
fork
from
the
tiny
frying
pan
on
his
tray
and
applying
it
gently
to
the
buttock
of
a
large
woman
in
front
of
him
.
"
Stand
aside
,
madam
,
commerce
is
the
lifeblood
of
the
city
,
thank
you
very
much
.
O
’
course
,
"
he
continued
,
"
by
rights
there
should
be
a
maiden
chained
to
a
rock
.
Only
the
aunt
said
no
.
That
’
s
the
trouble
with
some
people
.
No
sense
of
tradition
.
This
lad
says
he
’
s
the
rightful
air
,
too
.
"
Vimes
shook
his
head
.
The
world
was
definitely
going
mad
around
him
.
"
You
’
ve
lost
me
there
,
"
he
said
.
"
Air
,
"
said
Throat
patiently
.
"
You
know
.
Air
to
the
throne
.
"
"
What
throne
?
"
"
The
throne
of
Ankh
.
"
"
What
throne
of
Ankh
?
"
"
You
know
.
Kings
and
that
.
"
Throat
looked
reflective
.
"
Wish
I
knew
what
his
bloody
name
is
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
put
an
order
in
to
Igneous
the
Troll
’
s
all
-
night
wholesale
pottery
for
three
gross
of
coronation
mugs
and
it
’
s
going
to
be
a
right
pain
,
painting
all
the
names
in
afterwards
.
Shall
I
put
you
down
for
a
couple
,
Cap
’
n
?
To
you
ninety
pence
,
and
that
’
s
cutting
me
own
throat
.
"
Vimes
gave
up
,
and
shoved
his
way
back
through
the
throng
using
Carrot
as
a
lighthouse
.
The
lance
-
constable
loomed
over
the
crowd
,
and
the
rest
of
the
rank
had
anchored
themselves
to
him
.
"
It
’
s
all
gone
mad
,
"
he
shouted
.
"
What
’
s
going
on
,
Carrot
?
"
