And was he Commander of the Watch at the time? Good heavens, yes, as a matter of fact he was! Was he hanged and dismembered and buried in five graves? And is he a distant ancestor of the current Commander? My word, the coincidences just pile up, don't they?” His voice went from manic cheerfulness to a growl. “Right! That's got that over with. Now — has anyone got any point they wish to make?”

There was a general shifting of position and a group clearing of throats.

“What about mercenaries?” said Boggis.

“The problem with mercenaries,” said the Patrician, “is that they need to be paid to start fighting. And, unless you are very lucky, you end up paying them even more to stop—”

Selachii thumped the table.

“Very well, then, by jingo!” he snarled. “Alone!”

“We could certainly do with one,” said Lord Vetinari. “We need the money. I was about to say that we cannot afford mercenaries.”

“How can this be?” said Lord Downey. “Don't we pay our taxes?”

“Ah, I thought we might come to that,” said Lord Vetinari. He raised his hand and, on cue again, his clerk placed a piece of paper in it.

“Let me see now… ah yes. Guild of Assassins… Gross earnings in the last year: AM$13,207,048. Taxes paid in the last year: forty-seven dollars, twenty-two pence and what on examination turned out to be a Hershebian half-dong, worth one-eighth of a penny.”

“That's all perfectly legal! The Guild of Accountants—”

“Ah yes. Guild of Accountants: gross earnings AM$7,999,011. Taxes paid: nil. But, ah yes, I see they applied for a rebate of AM$200,000.”

“And what we received, I may say, included a Hershebian half-dong,” said Mr Frostrip of the Guild of Accountants.