Chinny sighed. “I did put this in my briefing notes, sir. The royal family in Borogravia have always had a quasi-religious status, you see. They’re the head of the church and the peasants, at least, pray to them in the hope that they’ll put in a good word with Nuggan. They’re like… living saints. Celestial intermediaries. To be honest, that’s how these countries work in any case. If you want something done, you have to know the right people. And I suppose it’s easier to pray to someone in a picture than to a god you can’t see.”

Vimes sat looking at the consul for some time. When he next spoke, he frightened the man to his boots.

“Who’d inherit?” he said.

“Sir?”

“Just following the monarchy, Mr Chinny. If the Duchess isn’t on the throne, who should be?”

“Um, it’s incredibly complex, sir, because of the intermarriages and the various legal systems, which for example—”

“Who’s the smart money on, Mr Chinny?”

“Um, Prince Heinrich of Zlobenia.”

To Chinny’s astonishment Vimes laughed. “And he’s wondering how auntie’s gettin’ on, I expect. I met him this morning, didn’t I? Can’t say I took to him.”

“But he is a friend of Ankh-Morpork,” said Chinny reproachfully. “That was in my report. Educated. Very interested in the clacks. Got great plans for his country. They used to be Nugganatic in Zlobenia, but he’s banned the religion and, frankly, hardly anyone objected. He wants Zlobenia to move forward. He admires Ankh-Morpork very much.”

“Yes, I know. He sounds almost as insane as Nuggan,” said Vimes. “Okay, so what we’ve probably got is an elaborate charade to keep Heinrich out. How’s this place governed?”

“There isn’t much. A bit of tax collecting, and that’s about all. We think some of the senior court officials just drift on as if the Duchess was alive. The only thing that really works is the aimy.”

“All right, how about coppers? Everyone needs coppers. At least they have their feet on the ground.”