Clarence raised his eyebrows. “Lurching, sir, I think. Groaning. Zombie things. Something seems to have stirred them up.”

“Us, probably,” said Vimes. He got up, strode across the room, and pulled open the big heavy door. “Reg!” he yelled.

After a moment another watchman appeared, and saluted. He was grey-faced, and Clarence couldn’t help noticing when the man saluted that the hand and fingers were held together with stitching.

“Have you met Constable Shoe, Clarence?” said Vimes cheerfully. “One of my staff. Been dead for more than thirty years, and loves every minute of it, eh, Reg?”

“Right, Mister Vimes,” said Reg, grinning and revealing a lot of brown teeth.

“Some fellow countrymen of yours down in the cellar, Reg.”

“Oh, dear. Lurching, are they?”

“’fraid so, Reg.”

“I shall go and have a word with them,” said Reg. He saluted again and marched out, with a hint of lurch.

“He’s, er, from here?” said Chinny, who had gone quite pale.

“Oh, no. The undiscovered country,” said Vimes. “He’s dead. However, credit where it’s due, he hasn’t let that stop him. You didn’t know we have a zombie in the Watch, Clarence?”

“Er… no, sir. I’ve haven’t been back to the city in five years.” He swallowed. “I gather things have changed.”

Horribly so, in Clarence Chinny’s opinion. Being consul to Zlobenia had been an easy job, which left him a lot of time to get on with his business. And then the big semaphore towers marched through, all along the valley, and suddenly Ankh-Morpork was an hour away. Before the clacks, a letter from Ankh-Morpork would take more than a two weeks to get to him, and so no one worried if he took a day or two to answer it. Now people expected a reply overnight. He’d been quite glad when Borogravia had destroyed several of those wretched towers. And then all hell had been let loose.

“We’ve got all sorts in the Watch,” said Vimes. “And we bloody well need ’em now, Clarence, with Zlobenians and Borogravians scrapping in the streets over some damn quarrel that began a thousand years ago.