Men at Arms (Discworld #15)

Men at Arms (Discworld #15) Page 30

'It's slow, then,' said Sergeant Colon. 'All the others just struck, you couldn't miss 'em.'

'My cousin Jorgen makes ones like these,' said Cuddy. 'They keep better time than demons or water clocks or candles. Or those big pendulum things.'

'There's a spring and wheels,' said Carrot.

'The important bit,' said Cuddy, taking an eyeglass from somewhere in his beard and examining the watch carefully, 'is a little rocking-thingummy that stops the wheels from going too fast.'

'How does it know if they're going too fast?' said Angua.

'It's kind of built-in,' said Cuddy. 'Don't understand it much myself. What's this inscription here . . .'

He read it aloud.

' “A Watch From, Your Old Freinds in the Watch”?'

'It's a play on words,' said Carrot.

There was a long, embarrassed silence.

'Um. I chipped in a few dollars each from you new recruits,' he added, blushing. 'I mean . . . you can pay me back when you like. If you want to. I mean . . . you'd be bound to be friends. Once you got to know him.'

The rest of the Watch exchanged glances.

He could lead armies, Angua thought. He really could. Some people have inspired whole countries to great deeds because of the power of their vision. And so could he. Not because he dreams about marching hordes, or world domination, or an empire of a thousand years. Just because he thinks that everyone's really decent underneath and would get along just fine if only they made the effort, and he believes that so strongly it burns like a flame which is bigger than he is. He's got a dream and we're all part of it, so that it shapes the world around him. And the weird thing is that no-one wants to disappoint him. It'd be like kicking the biggest puppy in the universe. It's a kind of magic.

'The gold's rubbing off,' said Cuddy. 'But it's a good watch,' he added quickly.

'I was hoping we could give it to him tonight,' said Carrot. 'And all go out for a . . . drink . . .'

'Not a good idea,' said Angua.

'Leave it until tomorrow,' said Colon. 'We'll form a guard of honour at the wedding. That's traditional. Everyone holds their swords up in a kind of arch.'

'We've only got one sword between us,' said Carrot glumly.

They all stared at the floor.

'It's not fair,' said Angua. 'I don't care who stole whatever they stole from the Assassins, but he was right to try to find out who killed Mr Hammerhock And no-one cares about Lettice Knibbs.'

'I like to find out who shoot me,' said Detritus.

'Beats me why anyone'd be daft enough to steal from the Assassins,' said Carrot. 'That's what Captain Vimes said. He said you'd have to be a fool to think of breaking into that place.'

They stared at the floor again.

'Like a clown or a jester?' said Detritus.

'Detritus, he didn't mean a cap-and-bells Fool,' said Carrot, in a kindly voice. 'He just meant you'd have to be some sort of idi—'

He stopped. He stared at the ceiling.

'Oh, my,' he said. 'It's as simple as that?'

'Simple as what?' said Angua.

Someone hammered at the door. It wasn't a polite knock. It was the thumping of someone who was either going to have the door opened for them or break it down.

A guard stumbled into the room. Half his armour was off and he had a black eye, but he was just recognizable as Skully Muldoon of the Day Watch.

Colon helped him up.

'Been in a fight, Skully?'

Skully looked up at Detritus, and whimpered.

'The buggers attacked the Watch House!'

'Who?'

'Them!'

Carrot patted him on the shoulder.

'This isn't a troll,' he said. 'This is Lance-Constable Detritus – don't salute. Trolls attacked the Day Watch?'

'They're chucking cobbles!'

'You can't trust 'em,' said Detritus.

'Who?' said Skully.

'Trolls. Nasty pieces of work in my opinion,' said Detritus, with all the conviction of a troll with a badge. 'They need keeping a eye on.'

'What's happened to Quirke?' said Carrot.

'I don't know! You lot have got to do something'.'

'We're stood down,' said Colon. 'Official.'

'Don't give me that!'

'Ah,' said Carrot, brightly. He pulled a stub of pencil out of his pocket and made a little tick in his black book. 'You still got that little house in Easy Street, Sergeant Muldoon?'

'What? What? Yes! What about it?'

'Is the rent worth more than a farthing a month?'

Muldoon stared at him with his one operating eye.

'Are you simple or what?'

Carrot gave him a big smile. 'That's right, Sergeant Muldoon. Is it, though? Worth a farthing, would you say?'

'There's dwarfs running around the streets looking for a fight and you want to know about property prices?'

'A farthing?'

'Don't be daft! It's worth at least five dollars a month!'

'Ah,' said Carrot, ticking the book again. 'That'd be inflation, of course. And I expect you've got a cooking pot . . . do you own at least two-and-one-third acres and more than half a cow?'

'All right, all right,' said Muldoon. 'It's some kind of joke, right?'

'I think probably the property qualification can be waived,' said Carrot. 'It says here that it can be waived for a citizen in good standing. Finally, has there been, in your opinion, an irreparable breakdown of law and order in the city?'

'They turned over Throat Dibbler's barrow and made him eat two of his sausages-inna-bun!'

'Oh, I say!' said Colon.

'Without mustard!'

'I think we can call that a Yes,' said Carrot. He ticked the page again, and closed the book with a definite snap.

'We'd better be going,' he said.

'We were told—' Colon began.

'According to the Laws and Ordinances of Ankh-Morpork,' said Carrot, 'any residents of the city, in times of the irreparable breakdown of law and order, shall, at the requeft of an officer of the city who is a citizen in good standing – there's a lot of stuff here about property and stuff, and then it goes on – form themfelves into a militia for city defence.'

'What does that mean?' said Angua.

'Militia . . .' mused Sergeant Colon.

'Hang on, you can't do that!' said Muldoon. 'That's nonsense!'

'It's the law. Never been repealed,' said Carrot.

'We've never had a militia! Never needed one!'

'Until now, I think.'

'Now look here,' said Muldoon, 'you come back with me to the Palace. You're men of the Watch—'

'And we're going to defend the city,' said Carrot.

People were streaming past the Watch House. Carrot stopped a couple by the simple expedient of sticking out his hand.

'Mr Poppley, isn't it?' he said. 'How's the grocery business? Hello, Mrs Poppley.'

'Ain't you heard?' said the flustered man. 'The trolls have set fire to the Palace!'

He followed Carrot's gaze up Broad Way, to where the Palace stood squat and dark in the early evening light. Ungovernable flames failed to billow from every window.

'My word,' said Carrot.

'And there's dwarfs breaking windows and everything!' said the grocer. 'A dog's not safe!'

'You can't trust 'em,' said Cuddy.

The grocer stared at him. 'Are you a dwarf?' he said.

Amazing! How do people do it,' said Cuddy.

'Well, I'm off! I'm not stopping to see Mrs Poppley ravished by the little devils! You know what they say about dwarfs!'

The Watch watched the couple head off into the crowd again.

'Well, ,' don't,' said Cuddy, to no-one in particular. 'What is it they say about dwarfs?'

Carrot fielded a man pushing a barrow.

'Would you mind telling me what's going on, sir?' he said.

'And do you know what it is they say about dwarfs?' said a voice behind him.

'That's not a sir, that's Throat,' said Colon. And will you look at the colour of him!'

'Should he be all shiny like that?' said Detritus.

'Feeling fine! Feeling fine!' said Dibbler. 'Hah! So much for people importuning the standard of my merchandise!'

'What's happening, Throat?' said Colon.

'They say—' Dibbler began, green in the face.

'Who says?' said Carrot.

'They say,' said Dibbler. 'You know. They. Everyone. They say the trolls have killed someone up at Dolly Sisters and the dwarfs have smashed up Chalky the troll's all-night pottery and they've broken down the Brass Bridge and—'

Carrot looked up the road.

'You just came over the Brass Bridge,' he said.

'Yeah, well . . . that's what they say,' said Dibbler.

'Oh, I see.' Carrot straightened up.

'Did they happen to say . . . sort of, in passing . . . anything else about dwarfs?' said Cuddy.

'I think we're going to have to go and have a word with the Day Watch about the arrest of Coalface,' Carrot said.

'We ain't got no weapons,' said Colon.

'I'm certain Coalface has nothing to do with the murder of Hammerhock,' said Carrot. 'We are armed with the truth. What can harm us if we are armed with the truth?'

'Well, a crossbow bolt can, e.g., go right through your eye and out the back of your head,' said Sergeant Colon.

All right, sergeant,' said Carrot, 'so where do we get some more weapons?'

The bulk of the Armoury loomed against the sunset.

It was strange to find an armoury in a city which relied on deceit, bribery and assimilation to defeat its enemies but, as Sergeant Colon said, once you'd won their weapons off 'em you needed somewhere to store the things.

Carrot rapped on the door. After a while there were footsteps, and a small window slid back. A suspicious voice said: 'Yes?'

'Corporal Carrot, city militia.'

'Never heard of it. Bugger off.'

The hatch snapped back. Carrot heard Nobby snigger.

He thumped on the door again.

'Yes?'

'I'm Corporal Carrot—' The hatch moved, but hit Carrot's truncheon as he rammed it in the hole.

'—and I'm here to collect some arms for my men.'

'Yeah? Where's your authority?'

'What? But I'm—'

The truncheon was knocked away and the hatch thudded into place.

' 'Scuse me,' said Corporal Nobbs, pushing past. 'Let me have a go. I've been here before, sort of thing.'

He kicked the door with his steel capped boots, known and feared wherever men were on the floor and in no position to fight back.

Snap. 'I told you to bug—'

'Auditors,' said Nobby.

There was a moment's silence.

'What?'

'Here to take inventory.'

'Where's your auth—'

'Oh? Oh? He says where's my authority?' Nobby leered at the guards. 'Oh? Keeps me hanging around here while his cronies can nip out the back to bring the stuff back out of hock, eh?'

'I nev—'

'And, and then, yeah, we'll get the old thousand swords trick, yeah? Fifty crates stacked up, turns out the bottom forty are full of rocks?' 'I—'

'What's your name, mister?'

'I—'

'You open this door right now!'

The hatch shut. There was the sound of bolts being pulled back by someone who was not at all convinced it was a good idea and would be asking searching questions in a minute.

'Got a piece of paper on you, Fred? Quick!'

'Yes, but—' said Sergeant Colon.

'Any paper! Now!'

Colon fumbled in his pocket and handed Nobby his grocery bill just as the door opened. Nobby swaggered in at high speed, forcing the man inside to walk backwards.

'Don't run off!' he shouted, 'I haven't found anything wrong—'

'I wasn't r—'

'—YET!'

Carrot had time to get an impression of a cavernous place full of complicated shadows. Apart from the man, who was fatter than Colon, there were a couple of trolls who appeared to be operating a grindstone. Current events did not seem to have penetrated the thick walls.