The leader of the delvers watching one of the main routes out of Ankh-Morpork smiled as the large coach bearing the Low King’s insignia came into view. Rain splashed over the coach as the horses galloped hubwards and the leader of the delvers smiled at the raindrops. How easy it was going to be. He gave the signal to the waiting dwarfs and within minutes they were grabbing harnesses and bridles and bringing the coach to a shuddering halt. He kicked the coach door open.

‘Bring out the King and you will not be harmed,’ he commanded.

There was silence inside the coach and then he heard a voice say, ‘We ain’t got no king apart from Harry King and we ain’t the ones that are going to get harmed. Consider us as the King Preservation Society, and Sir Harry King don’t like his friends being put to any trouble. And you, my son, you are a lot of trouble, but thankfully not as much as we are. Come on, lads!’

The fight was fast and methodical and the coach drove away with the victors singing and drinking in the storm and the water on the cobbles was tinged with red.

Meanwhile, a few miles away, another group of delvers was having a remarkably similar experience with a remarkably similar coach, which had turned out to contain amongst other horrors a very fierce, very female dwarf in a watchman’s helmet …

The train pulled in to the station at Sto Lat Junction, and Moist watched as the guard helped a grubby and pitiful old dwarf down from his carriage. The Low King clearly had some skill as an actor. Moist noticed one of the old dwarf’s equally decrepit companions in adversity take pity on him and give him a piece of dwarf bread, breaking it in half with his axe. To his horror, Moist saw the King dribbling his thanks to the bread giver.

As he came up to the King, Moist whispered, ‘Excellent … Where did you get that stink? It’s got a life of its own.’

The King put a finger to his lips and said, ‘Not me, it leaked from the man in front. I don’t think he could have washed for years. But remember, a king has to cope with a lot worse than a little stink.’

There were a few hours to kill before the fast train left Sto Lat for Zemphis, as yet the furthest point hubwards to enjoy a Hygienic Railway service. Getting the Low King out of sight was a priority; even in disguise, there was a risk.

Leaving Simnel and Vimes in charge at the station, Moist and the Low King limped their way outside. Moist looked around for people he knew had to be there because he couldn’t see them. Suddenly one of them was right in front of him, so close that they were almost touching. He hadn’t seen him until that moment. It was as if he had shot up from below.