Thud! - A Novel Of Discworld Part 28

The showers in the Watch house were the talk of the city. in the Watch house were the talk of the city. Vimes had paid for them himself, after Vetinari made an acidic comment about the cost. They were a bit primitive and were really no more than watering-can heads connected to a couple of water tanks on the next floor, but after a night in Ankh-Morpork's underworld, the thought of being really clean was very attractive. Even so, Angua hesitated. Vimes had paid for them himself, after Vetinari made an acidic comment about the cost. They were a bit primitive and were really no more than watering-can heads connected to a couple of water tanks on the next floor, but after a night in Ankh-Morpork's underworld, the thought of being really clean was very attractive. Even so, Angua hesitated.

"This is wonderful wonderful," said Sally, turning gently under a spray. "What's wrong?"

"Look, I'm just dealing with it, all right?" snapped Angua, standing just beyond the spray. "It's full moon, okay? The wolf is a bit strong."

Sally stopped scrubbing.

"Oh, I see see," she said. "Is it the whole B.A.T.H. thing?"

"You just had had to say that, didn't you," said Angua, and forced herself to step onto the tiles. to say that, didn't you," said Angua, and forced herself to step onto the tiles.

"Well, what do you do normally?" said Sally, handing her the soap.

"Cold water, and pretend it's rain. Don't you dare laugh! Change of subject, right now!"

"All right. What did you think of n.o.bby's girlfriend?" said Sally.

"Tawneee? Friendly. Good-looking..."

"Try perfect physical beauty? Astonishing proportions? A walking cla.s.sic?"

"Well...yes. Pretty much," Angua conceded.

"And all that is n.o.bby n.o.bbs's girlfriend girlfriend?"

"She seems to think so."

"You're not telling me she deserves deserves n.o.bby?" said Sally. n.o.bby?" said Sally.

"Look, Verity Pushpram doesn't deserve n.o.bby, and she's got a weird squint, arms like a stevedore, and cooks sh.e.l.lfish for a living," said Angua. "That's how things are."

"Is she his old girlfriend?"

"He used to say so. As far as I know, the physical side of the relationship consisted of her hitting him with a wet fish whenever he went near her."

Angua squeezed the last of the slime out of her hair. It was tough stuff to loose. As it was, some of it was fighting not to go down the plug hole.

That was enough. She didn't like to spend too much time in the S.H.O.W.E.R. Another six or so sessions, and the smell would have quite gone away. The important thing now was to remember to use a towel and not to shake herself dry.

"You think I went down there to impress Captain Carrot, don't you," said Sally, behind her.

Angua stopped, her head wrapped in toweling. Oh well, it was going to happen sooner or later...

"No," she said.

"Your heartbeat says otherwise," Sally said meekly. "Don't worry. I wouldn't have a chance. His heart beats faster every time he looks at you, and yours skips a beat every time you see him."

Okay, then, this is it, said the wolf who was never far away, this is where we sort it out, claw against fang...No! Don't listen to the wolf! But it would help, wouldn't it, if this stupid b.i.t.c.h stopped listening to the bat... Don't listen to the wolf! But it would help, wouldn't it, if this stupid b.i.t.c.h stopped listening to the bat...

"Stay out of people's hearts," she growled.

"I can't. You can't switch off your nose, can you? Can you?"

The moment of the wolf had pa.s.sed. Angua relaxed a little. His heart beat faster, did it?

"No," she said. "I can't."

"Has he ever seen you without your uniform?"

Ye G.o.ds, thought Angua, and headed for her clothes.

"Well...of course..." she mumbled.

"I meant wearing something else. Like-a dress?" Sally went on. "Come on on. Every copper spends some some time out of uniform. That's how you time out of uniform. That's how you know know you're off duty." you're off duty."

"But it's pretty much a 24/8 job for us." said Angua, "There's always-"

"You mean it is for him, because he likes it that way, and so you go along with it?" said the vampire, and that one got through all Angua's defenses.

"It's my life! Why should I listen to advice from a vampire?"

"Because you're a werewolf," said Sally. "Only a vampire would dare to give it, right? You don't have to be at his heel all the time."

"Look, I've been through all this, understand? It's a werewolf thing. We are what we are!"

"I'm not. You don't get the black ribbon just for signing the pledge, you know. And it doesn't mean you stop craving blood. You just don't do anything about it. At least you can go out at night and chase chickens."

There was a stony silence. Then Angua said: "You know about the chickens?"

"Yes."

"I pay for them, you know."

"I'm sure you do."

"And it's not as though it's every night."

"I'm sure it isn't. Look, do you know there are people out there who will volunteer volunteer to be a vampire's...dinner companion? Providing it's all done with style? And to be a vampire's...dinner companion? Providing it's all done with style? And we we are considered weird?" She sniffed. "By the way, what did you wash your hair in?" are considered weird?" She sniffed. "By the way, what did you wash your hair in?"

"Willard Brothers 'Good Girl!' Flea Shampoo," said Angua. "It brings out the gloss," she added defensively. "Look, I want to get this clear, right? Just because we spent hours wading around under the city, and, okay, maybe saved each other's lives once or twice, it does not mean we're friends, okay? We just happened to...be there at the same time!"

"You do do need some time off," said Sally. "I was going to buy a drink for Tawneee anyway, to say thanks, and Cheery wants to tag along. How about it? We've been stood down for now. Time out for a little fun?" need some time off," said Sally. "I was going to buy a drink for Tawneee anyway, to say thanks, and Cheery wants to tag along. How about it? We've been stood down for now. Time out for a little fun?"

Angua struggled with a seething snake's nest of emotions. Tawneee had had been very kind, and far more helpful than you might expect from someone wearing six inches of heel and four square inches of clothing. been very kind, and far more helpful than you might expect from someone wearing six inches of heel and four square inches of clothing.

"Come on on," said Sally encouragingly. "I don't know about you, but it's going to take a bit of effort to get the taste of that mud out of my mouth."

"Oh, all right right! But this doesn't doesn't mean we're bonding!" mean we're bonding!"

"Fine. Fine."

"I'm not a bondage kind of person," Angua added.

"Yes, yes," said Sally. "I can see that."

Vimes sat and stared at his notebook. He'd got "talking at his notebook. He'd got "talking cube" written down and circled. cube" written down and circled.

Out of the corner of his ear, he could hear the sounds of the City Watch rising from below: the bustle in the yard of the Old Lemonade Factory, where the Specials were a.s.sembling again, just in case; the rattle of the hurry-up wagon; the general murmur of voices coming up through the floor...

After some thinking, he wrote "old well" and circled that, too.

He'd scrumped plums in the gardens of Empirical Crescent with all the other kids. Half the houses were empty, and no one cared much. Yes, there had been a well, but it had long been full up to the top with garbage, even then. Gra.s.s was growing on the top. They only found the bricks because they looked for them.

So, let's say that anything buried right at the bottom, where the dwarfs had headed, had been dumped, oh, more than fifty, sixty years ago...

You seldom saw a dwarf in Ankh-Morpork even forty years ago, and they weren't anything like rich or powerful enough to own a cube. They were hard workers, seeking-just possibly-a better life. So, what human human would throw away a talking box worth a mountain of gold? He'd have to be b.l.o.o.d.y mad- would throw away a talking box worth a mountain of gold? He'd have to be b.l.o.o.d.y mad- Vimes sat rigidly, staring at the scrawls on the page. In the distance, Detritus was barking a command at someone.

He felt like a man crossing a river on stepping-stones. He was nearly halfway across, but the next stone was just a bit too far and could only be reached with serious groinal stress. Nevertheless, his foot was waving in the air, and it was that or a soaking...

He wrote: "Rascal." Then he circled the word several times, the pencil biting into the cheap paper.

Rascal must have been to Koom Valley. Let's say he found a cube there, who knows how. Just lying there? Anyway, he brings it home. He paints his picture and goes mad, but somewhere along, the cube starts talking to him.

Vimes wrote "SPECIAL WORD?" He drew a circle around it so hard that his pencil broke.

Maybe he can't find the word for "stop talking"? Anyway, he chucks it down a well...

He tried to write "Did Rascal ever live in Empirical Crescent?," and then gave up and tried to remember it.

Anyway...then he dies and, afterwards, this d.a.m.n book is written. It doesn't sell many copies, but recently it's republished and...ah, but now now there're lots of dwarfs in the city. Some of them read it, and something tells them that the secret is in this cube. They want to find out where it is. How? d.a.m.n. Doesn't the book say the secret of Koom Valley is in the painting? Okay. Maybe he...somehow painted some kind of code into the painting to say where the cube was? But so what? What was so bad to hear that you killed the poor devils who heard it? there're lots of dwarfs in the city. Some of them read it, and something tells them that the secret is in this cube. They want to find out where it is. How? d.a.m.n. Doesn't the book say the secret of Koom Valley is in the painting? Okay. Maybe he...somehow painted some kind of code into the painting to say where the cube was? But so what? What was so bad to hear that you killed the poor devils who heard it?

I think I'm looking at this wrong. It's not my cow. It's a sheep with a pitchfork. Unfortunately, it goes quack quack.

He was getting lost now, going all over the place, but he'd got a toe on the opposite stone and he felt he made some progress. But to what, exactly?

I mean, what would really really happen if there was real proof that, say, the dwarfs ambushed the trolls? Nothing that isn't happening already, that's what. You can always find an excuse that your side will accept, and who cares what the enemy thinks? In the real world, it wouldn't make any difference. happen if there was real proof that, say, the dwarfs ambushed the trolls? Nothing that isn't happening already, that's what. You can always find an excuse that your side will accept, and who cares what the enemy thinks? In the real world, it wouldn't make any difference.

There was a very faint knock at the door, the sort that you use if you secretly hope it won't be answered. Vimes sprang from his chair and pulled it open.

A. E. Pessimal stood there.

"Ah, A. E.," said Vimes, going back to his desk and laying down his pencil. "Come on in. What can I do for you? How's the arm?"

"Er...could you spare a moment of your time, Your Grace?"

Your Grace, thought Vimes. Well, he hadn't the heart to object, this time.

He sat down again. A. E. Pessimal was still wearing the chain-mail shirt with the Specials badge on it. He didn't look very shiny. Brick's swipe had bowled him across the plaza like a ball.

"Er..." A. E. Pessimal began.

"You'll have to start as a lance constable, but a man of your talents ought to make it to sergeant within a year. And you can have your own office," said Vimes.

A. E. Pessimal shut his eyes. "How did you know?" he breathed.

"You attacked a boozed-up troll with your teeth," said Vimes. "'There's a man born for the badge,' I thought to myself." a man born for the badge,' I thought to myself."

And that's what you've always wanted, right? But you were always too small, too weak, too shy to be a watchman. I can buy big and strong anywhere. Right now I need a man who knows how to hold a pencil without breaking it.

"You'll be my adjutant," he went on. "You'll handle all my paperwork. You'll read the reports, you'll try to figure out what's important. And so you can learn what is is important, you'll have to do at least two patrols a week." important, you'll have to do at least two patrols a week."

A tear was running down A. E. Pessimal's cheek. "Thank you, Your Grace," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

If A. E. Pessimal had enough chest to stick out, it would be sticking.

"Of course, you'll need to finish your report on the Watch first," Vimes added. "That is a matter between you and his lordship. And now, if you will excuse me, I really must get on. I look forward to seeing you working for me, Lance Constable Pessimal."

"Thank you, Your Grace!"

"Oh, and you won't call me 'Your Grace,' " said Vimes. He thought for a moment, and decided that the man had earned this, all in one go, and added: " 'Mister Vimes' will do."

And so we make progress, he said to himself, after A. E. Pessimal had floated away. And his lordship won't like it, so, as far as I can see, there's no downside. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes Quis custodiet ipsos custodes, er, qui custodes custodient? qui custodes custodient? Was that right for "Who watches the watcher that watches the watchmen"? Probably not. Still...your move, my lord. Was that right for "Who watches the watcher that watches the watchmen"? Probably not. Still...your move, my lord.

He was just puzzling over his notebook again when the door opened without an introductory knock.

Sybil entered, with a plate.

"You're not eating enough, Sam," she announced. "And the canteen here is a disgrace. It's all grease and garbage!"

"That's what the men like, I'm afraid," said Vimes guiltily.

"I've cleaned out the tar in the tea urn, at least," Sybil went on, with satisfaction.

"You cleaned out the tea urn?" said Vimes in a hollow voice. It was like being told that someone had wiped the patina off a fine old work of art.

"Yes, it was like tar in there. There really wasn't much proper food in the store, but I managed to make you a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich."

"Thank you, dear." Vimes cautiously lifted a corner of the bread with his broken pencil. There seemed to be too much lettuce, which was to say, there was some lettuce.

"There's a lot of dwarfs come to see you, Sam," said Sibyl, as if this was preying on her mind.