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And
now
it
was
two
of
the
clock
the
following
morning
.
And
all
was
well
,
apart
from
the
rain
.
It
was
drizzling
again
.
There
are
some
towns
in
the
multiverse
which
think
they
know
how
to
have
a
good
time
.
Places
like
New
Orleans
and
Rio
reckon
they
not
only
know
how
to
push
the
boat
out
but
set
fire
to
the
harbour
as
well
;
but
compared
to
Ankh
-
Morpork
with
its
hair
down
they
’
re
a
Welsh
village
at
2
p
.
m
.
on
a
wet
Sunday
afternoon
.
Fireworks
banged
and
sparkled
in
the
damp
air
over
the
turbid
mud
of
the
river
Ankh
.
Various
domesticated
animals
were
being
roasted
in
the
streets
.
Dancers
conga
’
d
from
house
to
house
,
often
managing
to
pick
up
any
loose
ornaments
while
doing
so
.
There
was
a
lot
of
quaffing
going
on
.
People
who
in
normal
circumstances
would
never
think
of
doing
it
were
shouting
"
Hurrah
"
.
Vimes
stalked
gloomily
through
the
crowded
streets
,
feeling
like
the
only
pickled
onion
in
a
fruit
salad
.
He
’
d
given
the
rank
the
evening
off
.
He
wasn
’
t
feeling
at
all
royalist
.
He
didn
’
t
think
he
had
anything
against
kings
as
such
,
but
the
sight
of
Ankh
-
Morporkians
waving
flags
was
mysteriously
upsetting
.
That
was
something
only
silly
subject
people
did
,
in
other
countries
.
Besides
,
the
idea
of
royal
plumes
in
his
hat
revolted
him
.
He
’
d
always
had
a
thing
about
plumes
.
Plumes
sort
of
,
well
,
bought
you
off
,
told
everyone
that
you
didn
’
t
belong
to
yourself
.
And
he
’
d
feel
like
a
bird
.
It
’
d
be
the
last
straw
.
His
errant
feet
led
him
back
to
the
Yard
.
After
all
,
where
else
was
there
?
His
lodgings
were
depressing
and
his
landlady
had
complained
about
the
holes
which
,
despite
much
shouting
,
Errol
kept
making
in
the
carpet
.
And
the
smell
Errol
made
.
And
Vimes
couldn
’
t
drink
in
a
tavern
tonight
without
seeing
things
that
would
upset
him
even
more
than
the
things
he
normally
saw
when
he
was
drunk
.
It
was
nice
and
quiet
,
although
the
distant
sounds
of
revelry
could
be
heard
through
the
window
.
