He sighed, pulled out a leather-bound package about the size of a small book, and opened it.
A friendly yet slightly worried face peered up at him from its cage.
'Yes?' said Vimes.
'11 am. Appointment with the Patrician.'
'Yes? Well? It's five past now.'
'Er. So you've had it, have you?' said the imp.
'No.'
'Shall I go on remembering it or what?'
'No. Anyway, you didn't remind me about the College of Arms at ten.'
The imp looked panic-stricken.
That's Tuesday, isn't it? Could've sworn it was Tuesday.'
'It was an hour ago.'
'Oh.' The imp was downcast. 'Er. All right. Sorry. Um. Hey, I could tell you what time it is in Klatch, if you like. Or Genua. Or Hunghung. Any of those places. You name it.'
'I don't need to know the time in Klatch.'
'You might,' said the imp desperately. Think how people will be impressed if, during a dull moment of the conversation, you could say Incidentally, in Klatch it's an hour ago . Or Bes Pelargic. Or Ephebe. Ask me. Go on. I don't mind. Any of those places.'
Vimes sighed inwardly. He had a notebook. He took notes in it. It was always useful. And then Sybil, gods bless her, had brought him this fifteen-function imp which did so many other things, although as far as he could see at least ten of its functions consisted of apologizing for its inefficiency in the other five.
'You could take a memo,' Vimes said.
'Wow! Really? Gosh! Okay. Right. No problem.'
Vimes cleared his throat. 'See Corporal Nobbs re time-keeping; also re Earldom.'
'Er... sorry, is this the memo?'
'Yes.'
'Sorry, you should have said memo first. I'm pretty certain it's in the manual.'
'All right, it was a memo.'
'Sorry, you have to say it again.' 's eyes were growing accustomed to the flickering light. The room was full of books, in piles. None of them were on shelves. Each one sprouted bookmarks like squashed fingers.
'I don't understand,' he said. Either Dragon King of Arms had very hunched shoulders or there were wings under his shapeless robe. Some of them could fly like a bat, Vimes recalled. He wondered how old this one was. They could 'live' almost forever...
'I believe you're here because it is considered, ah-ha, appropriate that you have a coat of arms. I am afraid that this is not possible. Ah-ha. A Vimes coat of arms has existed, but it cannot be resurrected. It would be against the rules.'
'What rules?'
There was a thump as a book was taken down and opened.
'I'm sure you know your ancestry, Commander. Your father was Thomas Vimes, his father was Gwilliam Vimes - '
'It's Old Stoneface, isn't it,' said Vimes flatly. 'It's something to do with Old Stoneface.'