The quick thinker went pale. 'Oh, no! They get really intense about unlicensed thieving! Anything but the Thieves'Guild!'
Carrot turned. The light caught his face in a certain way. 'Anything?' he said.
The unlicensed thieves looked at one another, and then all spoke at once.
'The Thieves' Guild. Fine. No problem.'
'We like the Thieves' Guild.'
'Can't wait. Thieves' Guild, here I come.'
'Fine body of men.'
'Firm but fair.'
'Good,' said Carrot. Then everyone's happy. Oh, yes.' He dug into his money pouch. 'Here's five pence for the loaf, Mr Ironcrust. I've handled the other one, but you should be able to sand it off with no trouble.'
The dwarf blinked at the coins. ' You want to pay me for saving my money?' he said.
'As a tax payer you are entitled to the protection of the Watch,' said Carrot.
There was a delicate pause. Mr Ironcrust stared at his feet. One or two of the other dwarfs started to snigger.
'I'll tell you what,' said Carrot, in a kindly voice, 'I'll come round when I get a moment and help you fill in the forms, how about that?'
A thief broke the embarrassed silence.
'Er... could your... little dog... let go of my arm, please?'
The wolf released its grip, jumped down and padded over to Carrot, who raised his hand to his helmet respectfully.
'Good day to you all,' he said, and strode away.
Thieves and victims watched him go.
'Is he real? said the quick thinker.
There was a growl from the baker, then 'You bastards!' he shouted. 'You bastardsl'
'Wha... what? You've got the money back, haven't you?'
Two of his employees had to hold Mr Ironcrust back.
'Three years!' he said. 'Three years and no one bothered! Three bloody years and not so much as a knock at the door! And he'll ask me! Oh, yes! He'll be nice about it! He'll probably even go and get the extra forms so I won't be put to the trouble! Why couldn't you buggers have just run away?'
Vimes peered around the shadowy, musty room. The voice might as well have come from a tomb.
A panicky look crossed the face of the little Herald. 'Perhaps Sir Samuel would be kind enough to step this way?' said the voice. It was chilly, clipping every syllable with precision. It was the kind of voice that didn't blink.
'That is, in fact, er ... Dragon/ said Red Crescent.
Vimes reached for his sword.
'Dragon King of Arms,' said the man.
'King of Arms?' said Vimes.
'Merely a title,' said the voice. 'Pray enter.'