Moist was aware, as he and the King made their way hurriedly from Mrs Simnel’s house back to the station, of the dark clerks keeping an eye on them, invisibly tracking them on either side. Yesterday’s clothing had gone, and after a quick wash and brush-up the King had the appearance of a dwarfish businessman while Moist was scruffier, looking like an engineer hurrying on his way to work.

The cry from the porter announced, ‘Shortly to depart from platform one the Altiplano Express, stopping at Big Cabbage for Brassica World and Zemphis for Zemphis Falls. Sleeping compartments at the front of the train. All aboard, ladies and gentlemen!’

Moist whispered to the King, ‘You know what to do, sire.’

The King showed his ticket to the guard, who looked at it very carefully before saying gruffly, ‘Middle Class, middle of the train.’ Moist walked off as fast as he could and didn’t look around. Looking around pegged you as a nervous person. You had to rely on instinct alone. Everybody knew what to do.

He had to manoeuvre to get out of the way of crates of chickens and he thought, why are there always crates of chickens? By the sound of it they didn’t really want to be there. And now it seemed that chickens were going everywhere. A mother with a child hurried past. A goblin waved to presumably his wife, although it was quite hard to tell with goblins, and Moist glanced at the guard and savoured, just for one moment, the silence before the train came alive.

He embarked via the guard’s van and the first person he met was Detritus without his badge and therefore being, well, just another troll. He looked uncomfortable. Behind Detritus Moist found Commander Vimes dressed as a guard, apparently thoroughly enjoying himself, if Moist correctly interpreted his twisted grimace.

Vimes waved a clacks flimsy and said cheerfully, ‘The idiots! They tried their tricks while they were still on Ankh-Morpork soil. Poor souls … I suppose they thought they were outthinking us, but Cheery and her lads had the measure of them in swift order – Sir Harry’s men too by the sound of it – and now both lots are heading for the Tanty where the dark clerks will be engaging them in important discussions. Let’s hope the news doesn’t get out to the grag command just yet.’

It was going to be a long haul to Zemphis. And after Zemphis they’d be launching on to the new track, which no passenger train had yet travelled. Time enough to worry about that when they got there, Moist told himself firmly. For now disguise was crucial; he must be the engineer, the lucky man who got to ride the latest Mark II Flyer every day and get paid for it.

As Moist walked up and down the carriages he began to look at the passengers around him. Amongst the normal mix of Ankh-Morporkians and other folk from the Sto Plains and surrounding areas whom he would expect to see on the regular journey to Zemphis, there were some dwarfs, travelling both together and singly. A few he recognized as part of the Low King’s entourage; others were, if he was any judge, Ankh-Morpork dwarfs. Mind you, there was more than one kind of Ankh-Morpork dwarf: one sort were happy at being Ankh-Morpork citizens, and others seemed to feel grumpy and nervous about their status, not realizing that in Ankh-Morpork nobody paid much attention to what you were – unless you looked wealthy, in which case you would definitely be the centre of attention.