Juan Gris Violin and Glass

Juan Gris Violin and GlassJuan Gris Violin and CheckerboardJuan Gris Man in the Cafe
felt something inside him bubbling over. Something was brushing the tips of his corroded but nevertheless still-active instincts, trying to draw attention to itself. He had to be on the move. It was all that Carrot could do to keep up.
There were trainee Assassins in the streets around the Guild, still sweeping up debris.
Assassins in daylight,' snarled Vimes. 'I'm amazed they don't turn to dust.'
'That's vampires, sir,' said Carrot.
'Hah! You're right. Assassins and licensed thieves and bloody vampires! You know, this was a great old city once, lad.'
Unconsciously, they fell into step . . . proceeding.
'When we had kings, I think.'
Vimes paused. There's something in the air in this city, he thought. If the Creator had said, 'Let there be light' in Ankh-Morpork, he'd have got no further because of all the people saying 'What colour?'
'The supreme ruler, OK,' he said, starting to stroll forward again.
'OK.'
'But that's not right, see? One man with the power of life and death.'
'But if he's a good man—' Carrot began., sir?''Kings? Kings? Hell, no!'A couple of Assassins looked around in surprise.'I'll tell you,' said Vimes. A monarch's an absolute ruler, right? The head honcho—''Unless he's a queen,' said Carrot.Vimes glared at him, and then nodded.'OK, or the head honchette—''No, that'd only apply if she was a young woman. Queens tend to be older. She'd have to be a . . . a honcharina? No, that's for very young princesses. No. Um. A honchesa