The Adjutant stared at the slowly moving greeny-yellow crust of the Ankh. "Does it always smell like that, sir?"

"As far as I can remember," answered Vimes.

The Adjutant thought about that. "A camel smells worse," he decided.

"Maybe a little."

They stood on the dock watching the men (and women) of the 13th disembark and form up under the bawled orders of the Sergeant Major. The usual occupants of the dock, stevedores and the like, had been driven to the outer fringes and a crowd was forming in the middle distance.

Major Red came over and saluted. "What now, sir?"

"We wait," Vimes said calmly. "We will be met."

"Sir?" the Major looked puzzled.

"I doubt we're expected, sir," the Adjutant said respectfully.

Vimes shook his head. "Trust me, we are."

The Sergeant Major marched over and threw a salute you could cut bread with. "ALL ASSEMBLED AND AWAITING ORDERS, SIR!"

"At ease, Sergeant Major. We may be here for a bit." the Colonel sat down on a convenient bale and lit one of his D'reg cigars.

----

The people of Ankh-Morpork are famous for their love of street theater, and for their extremely flexible definition of what constitutes same. A mere cart collision could bring traffic to a standstill for hours. A genuinely interesting sight might cause the entire city to come to a grinding halt. A regiment of Klatchian Legionnaires definitely qualified as 'interesting'. The crowd grew. Another formed on the opposite bank of the river. A voice crying 'Sausages inna bun!' could be faintly heard above the soft bumping of the greeny-yellow substance one had to call 'water' for lack of a better word. The voices of the Legionnaires rose and fell in subdued conversation as they sprawled around the dock playing crap and Cripple Mr. Onion.

"Er, sir?" Major Yellow approached his C.O., visibly uncomfortable. "We're surrounded, sir."

Vimes cast a glance around. "So we are. Makes me feel right at home."

Yellow grinned. Right, the Colonel had it sorted, nothing to worry about. He wandered back to his card game.

Nice to know the men had confidence in him, Vimes reflected, and hoped to hell it was justified. A tramp of iron soled feet attracted his attention. The crowd parted to let through a squad of armored men led by a tall, redheaded fellow encased in blindingly bright steel.

Vimes stood up. The Adjutant, the Sergeant Major, and the two battalion commanders came to his side. The Legionnaires paused, cards and dice in hand, to watch with un-winking eyes as the group approached.

The closer they got the slower the watchmen walked, coming to a complete stop about three yards from Vimes. The redheaded man's mouth hung slightly open, blue eyes wide with shock.

"Captain Carrot, I presume?" said the Colonel, smoothly. "I believe I had the pleasure of being arrested by you a few days ago?"

Carrot's head shook, a small, perpetual motion of disbelief. "Who - who are you?"

"Colonel S. Vimes, formerly of the Klatchian Foreign Legion." He nodded towards the men of the 13th. "My regiment. We've deserted."

"To Ankh-Morpork?" said Carrot.

Vimes nodded. "I hear I have family here."

A slightly hysterical giggle, quickly cut off, came from the watchmen ranged behind Carrot.

The Captain's mouth closed. His head stopped shaking and he took a deep breath, settling back into his skin. "Yes, sir, I think that's pretty certain." He studied Vimes carefully and said without turning, "Fetch the Commander, please, Constable Ping."

"No need, Captain, I'm here."

Heads snapped round. The man had apparently materialized out of nowhere just a few feet away. It was Colonel Vimes' turn to stare. He'd seen that face before, very recently. That morning in fact - in the mirror when he shaved.

"Sammie?" he said uncertainly.

"Saul?" said the doppleganger in front of him. "Saul is that you?"

"I think so," said the Colonel. Then memory crashed in on him. Yes. The S stood for Saul and this - this was his kid brother?"

Suddenly the two Vimes were pounding each other on the back. "Look at you," Saul said, half laughing, half crying. "Look at you, Sammie, you're a man!" And tough as dragon hide with eyes that looked to have seen the Elephant a time or two. (1)

"We thought you were dead." Sam answered, those same eyes filmed with unshed tears. "Dammit Saul we thought you were dead! What did you want to go and join the Legion for?"

"Damned if I know," Saul shrugged. "Hasn't come back to me yet. I just hope to gods it wasn't a woman."

Sam laughed raggedly and let his long lost brother go, fishing a handkerchief from inside his well used breastplate. "So what brings you home now, brother mine?"

"No place else to go," said Saul. "Besides, I think I've got an invitation."

"What?" Sam started to say blankly, and was interrupted.

"Excuse me, Your Grace." A sharply creased gentleman, immaculate in striped trousers and bowler, bowed politely to Sam then turned to Saul. "Colonel Vimes? You have an appointment with his lordship at your earliest convenience."

"I'll have to get my men settled in somewhere first."

"Of course, sir. His lordship suggests the old barracks at Cheapside. He is afraid they are in some disrepair -"

"We're not picky," Saul Vimes answered. "Sergeant Major, call the men to attention."

"TEN'SHUNN!"

And magically the lounging, chatting, dicing and card playing men were in ranks, lines and backs straight as rulers. Sam Vimes, to whom the word 'smart' was practically an insult, blinked and shot a slight, considering frown at his brother.

"If somebody could just show us the way?" Saul said. "I'm afraid I don't remember much about the city yet."

"Of course, sir," said the gentleman in a bowler. "Just follow me."

"Sergeant Major, follow that man."

"YES, SIR! AFTER YOU, SIR! BY THE LEFT, FORWARD!"

And somehow the neat blocks of sand colored uniforms topped by white kepis coalesced into a marching line, four men across, filing neatly out of the docks and down Cocksbill street on Drumknott's heels, (2) giving their Colonel, his brother and the watchmen a crisp eyes right as they passed.

As the last of the Legionnaires disappeared into the street Sam Vimes gave his own men a look and a nod. They needed no more, Carrot and his squad headed after the Legionnaires. Sam turned to his brother. "I'll show you the way to the palace, shall I?"

----

Havelock Vetinari gazed up at the two Vimes standing in identical 'at ease' stance before his desk looking over his right and left shoulders respectively. The resemblance was really quite striking. The same granite jaw, the same steely eye, the same battered-but-never-bowed set to the shoulders. Vetinari let out an invisible sigh. Two Vimes. Oh dear, had this really been a good idea?

"Welcome to Ankh-Morpork, Colonel."

"Thank you, sir," the right hand Vimes said crisply to the window pane behind Vetinari's ear. "Would I be right in guessing you have some use for me, sir?"

"That depends, Colonel. What can you do for us?"

Saul Vimes gave a slight shrug. "Depends on my resources, sir. Give me ten thousand men and suitable support and I'll conquer the Sto Plains for you. Give me 50 thousand and funds to match, I'll hand you the world."

Vetinari glanced at Sam Vimes' face and raised steepled fingers to hid his smile. "You are very sure of yourself, Colonel."

Saul Vimes considered that. "Yes, sir, I am. No idea why."

"I have rather more than an idea," Vetinari answered dryly. "I assure you, Colonel, your confidence is well placed."

"Glad to hear it, sir."

"However I have no interest in conquest."

"Fine by me, sir. How about roads, fortifications and the like? Legionnaires are good builders, sir. 'First we dig 'em, then we die in 'em' as we say." (3)

"Possibly later," said Vetinari. "At the moment, Colonel, what I need is a deterrent." The Patrician paused, and continued delicately. "I fear some of my leading citizens are less than happy with the conclusion of our recent war."

"Ah," said Saul Vimes. "Sore losers, eh?"

"Losers?" That was Sam Vimes. "What did we lose, a sunken island?"

"A chance for glory?" suggested Saul Vimes.

"Very perceptive, Colonel." Vetinari looked at the elder Vimes brother appreciatively. "Yes, precisely that. Also certain rather important people lost considerable face. And they have several thousand armed men at their disposal."

"I see your problem, sir," said Saul Vimes.

Sam Vimes shook his head in disbelief. "No. No, not even Rust would be so stupid..." his voice trailed off and his face set in grim lines. "What am I saying? Of course he would."

"This would be the man who led an army of fifteen or twenty thousand against the Fist of Gebra without supplies or artillery support?" Saul Vimes inquired.

"The same," Vetinari said. The Colonel's face froze into a stony mask. The Patrician shot a quick glance at his Vimes. He knew that look.

"I've hung men for that kind of criminal stupidity," Saul said in a voice straight off a Hubland glacier.

"I know," said Vetinari. "I have no wish to see Ankh-Morpork turned into a battlefield, Colonel Vimes. I need a deterrent, which I believe you and your men can supply."

Saul nodded. "I think I understand you, sir."

"I'm sure you do, Colonel."

"Uh, sir, I thought we didn't have the money to hire mercenaries?" Sam Vimes said, putting his finger on a problem that seemed to have escaped both his brother and Vetinari. "No offense, Saul."

"None taken," his elder brother said serenely. "The Legion are mercenaries, Sam, but we are true to our Contract."

The Patrician gave one of his quick, thin smiles. "Mercenaries? Not at all. Lord Vimes here has simply raised a regiment as is his undoubted right as a gentleman and citizen."

"Lord who?" both Vimes said in shocked unison.

Vetinari raised steepled fingers to chin level and there was a definitely twinkle in the icy eyes as he continued: "Surely, Your Grace, you realize that the - rehabilitation - of your distinguished ancestor naturally includes restoration of the rank and estates of your ancient and illustrious family -"

"Our what?" both Vimes said in blank unison.

" - which or course descend to the eldest son and heir," Vetinari finished, ignoring the interruption and nodding graciously at Saul.

He looked at his younger brother. "We have rank and estates?"

"I dunno. Do we?" Sam looked at Vetinari.

"Of course," the Patrician said with another one of his smiles. "Not the Ramkin fortune I grant you, but quite sufficient to maintain a force of a thousand or so men."

"Ah," said Saul, relaxing. "Convenient that."

"Very." agreed Vetinari.

-----

The two Vimes emerged from the palace gate in a somewhat bemused condition. Saul turned to Sam. "Ancient and Illustrious family?"

Sam shrugged. "Old Stoneface. You remember about Old Stoneface?"

Saul thought. "Yes." He gave his brother a bit of the Look. "I won't even ask about this 'Your Grace' business."

"Thank you."

They proceeded down Filigree street towards Cheapside. Or rather Sam 'proceeded' in the in the easy, ineffable fashion of the Eternal Policeman. Saul marched, but slowly and with a slight roll that came of decades of marching through the sands of various deserts.

"Mam's gone?" Saul said abruptly.

Sam nodded tightly. "About ten years ago."

"Damn."

"She always said you'd come back. Vimes are hard men to kill, she used to say."

"Damn," Saul said again. "I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. Gods, if I abandoned you lot for to forget some woman I'll kill myself."

"Don't," said Sam.

Saul sighed. "All right. How are the girls?"

"Fine. All married and doing well."

Saul hesitated. "And - Simon?"

Sam's face hardened into stony Vimesness. "Still a thief."

"Gods. Da must be turning over in his grave."

Sam snorted. "Da, Grandad, and the whole line back to Suffer-Not-Injustice."

They turned onto Cheapside. The barracks were tall stone buildings set in a square with a narrow alley running between them. The windows were gaping holes, the glass long since broken and the wooden frames taken away for kindling. The Adjutant stood waiting on the doorstep - the doors were gone too of course - and sounds of hammering came from within.

Saul Vimes returned his salute casually. "Well, Adjutant?"

"Four walls and a roof, sir," the man shrugged in answer. "Mind you the floors and stairs need some repair."

"So I hear. Where are they getting the wood, Adjutant?"

He pointed. "Abandoned building down that-a-way, sir."

Saul looked at Sam who asked: "Does it have a sign saying Three Jolly Luck take away fish bar?"

"Yes, sir," said the Adjutant.

Sam smiled crookedly. "Not a problem."

Saul gave a little sigh of relief. "Good. I'm afraid Legionnaires are notorious scroungers, Sammie. I'll do my best to keep them in bounds." He turned crisply to the Adjutant. "This is not enemy territory and I will not tolerate light fingers. Any man who fails to control himself will face me - and then I'll turn him over to my brother here."

The Adjutant looked from one Vimes to the other and nodded, expression sober but with a suspicion of a glint in his eye. "That should do it, sir. Sirs."

----

1. A Klatchian expression originating in the first Ymitury war. It refers to the grim and battered look of men who've faced one too many elephant charges. Coincidently it was also used on Roundworld of veteran Union soldiers.

2. C'mon, you knew it was Drumknott, didn't you?

3. This is also the motto of Robert A. Heinlein's Combat Engineers in 'Starship Troopers'.