‘They do? Should I stop washing?’
‘That is very droll, sir. But you see, sir, you and the city are one. Mhm, mhm. If you are insulted, AnkhMorpork is insulted. If
you befriend, AnkhMorpork befriends.’
‘Really? What happens when I go to the lavatory?’
`That’s up to you, sir. Mmhm, mmph.’
At breakfast next morning Vimes sliced the top off a boiled egg, thinking: this is AnkhMorpork slicing the top off a boiled egg. If I cut my toast into soldiers we’re probably at war.
Corporal Littlebottom entered carefully and saluted.
‘Your message came back, sir,’ she said, handing him a scrap of paper. ‘From Sergeant Stronginthearm. I’ve deciphered it for you. Er … the Scone from the Museum’s been found, sir.’
‘Well, that’s the other shoe dropped,’ said Vimes. ‘I was worried there for a moment.’
‘Er, in fact Constable Shoe is bothered about it,’ said Cheery. ‘It’s ‘a bit hard to follow what he says, but he seems to think someone made a copy of it.’
‘What, a fake of a fake? What good’s that?’
‘I really couldn’t say, sir. Your other … surmise was correct.’
Vimes glanced at the paper. ‘Hah. Thanks, Cheery. We’ll be down shortly.’
‘You’re humming, Sam,’ said Sybil, after a while. ‘That means something awful is going to happen to somebody.’
‘Wonderful thing, technology,’ said Vimes, buttering a slice of toast. ‘I can see it has its uses.’
‘And when you grin in that shiny sort of way it means that someone’s playing silly buggers and doesn’t know you’ve just thrown a six.’
‘I don’t know what you mean, dear. It’s probably the country air agreeing with me.’
Lady Sybil put down her teacup. ‘Sam?’
‘Yes, dear?’
‘This is probably not the best time to mention it, but you know I told you I went to see old Mrs Content? Well, she says-‘
There was another knock at the door. Lady Sybil sighed.
This time it was Inigo who entered.
‘We should be leaving, your grace, if you don’t mind. I would like us to be at Slake by lunchtime and through the pass at Wilinus before dark, mhm, mhm.’
‘Do we have to rush so?’ sighed Sybil.
‘The pass is … slightly dangerous,’ said Inigo. ‘Somewhat lawless. Mhm, mhm.’
‘Only somewhat?’ said Vimes.
‘I will just feel happier when it is behind us,’ said Inigo. ‘It would be a good idea if the second coach follows, us closely and your men stay alert, your grace.’
‘They teach you tactics in Lord Vetinari’s political office, do they, Inigo?’ said Vimes.
‘Just common sense, mhm, mhm, sir.’
‘Why don’t we wait until tomorrow before attempting the pass?’
‘With respect, your grace, I suggest not. For one thing, the weather is worsening. And I’m sure we’re being watched. We must demonstrate that there is no yellow in the AnkhMorpork flag, mhm, mhm.’
‘There is,’ said Vimes. ‘It’s on the owl and the collars of the hippos.’
‘I mean,’ said Inigo, ‘that the colours of AnkhMorpork do not run.’
‘Only since we got the new dyes,’ said Vimes. ‘All right, all right. I know what you mean. But, look, I’m not risking the servants if there’s any danger. And there’s to be no arguing, understand? They can stay here and take the mail coach tomorrow. No one attacks the mail coaches any more.’
‘I suggest Lady Sybil remains here too, sir. Mhm.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Sybil. ‘I wouldn’t hear of it! If it’s not too dangerous for Sam, it’s not too dangerous for me.’
‘I wouldn’t argue with her if I was you,’ said Vimes to Inigo. ‘I really wouldn’t.’
The wolf was not very happy about being tethered to a tree but, as Gaspode said, never trust nobody.
They’d paused a while in a wood about five miles from the town. It’d be a brief stop, Carrot had said. Some of the people in the square looked the sort who treasured their lack of a sense of humour.
After some barking and growling Gaspode said, ‘You got to understand that matey here is pers’nally non gratis in local wolf society, being a bit of, ahaha, lone wolf …’
‘Yes?’ Carrot was taking the roast chickens out of their sack. Gaspode’s eyes fixed on them.
‘But he hears the howlin’ at night.’
‘Ah, wolves communicate?’
‘Basic’ly your wolf howl is just another way of pissin’ against a tree to say it’s your damn tree, but there’s always bits of news, too. Something pasty’s happenin’ in Uberwald. He doesn’t know what.’ Gaspode lowered his voice. ‘Between you and me, our friend here was well behind the door when the brains was handed out. If wolves was people, he’d be like Foul Ole Ron.’
‘What’s his name?’ said Carrot thoughtfully.
Gaspode gave Carrot a Look. Who cared what a wolf was called?
‘Wolf names is difficult,’ he said. ‘More like a description, see? It’s not like callin’ yourself Mr Snuggles or Bonzo, you understand…’
‘Yes, I know. So what is his name?’
‘You want to know what his name is, then?’
‘Yes, Gaspode.’
‘So, in fact, it’s the name of this wolf you want to know?’
‘That is correct.’
Gaspode shifted uneasily. ‘Arsehole,’ he said.
‘Oh.’ To the dog’s frank astonishment, Carrot blushed.
‘That’s basic’ly a summary, but it’s a pretty good translation,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but you did ask…’
Gaspode stopped and whined for a moment, trying to convey the message that he was losing his voice due to lack of chicken.
‘Er, there’s been a lot on the howl about Angua,’ he went on, when Carrot seemed unable to take the hint. ‘Er, they think she’s bad news.’
‘Why? She’s travelling as a wolf, after all.’
‘Wolves hate werewolves.’
‘What? That can’t be right! When she’s wolf-shaped she’s just like a wolf!’
‘So? When she’s human-shaped she’s just like a human. And what’s that got to do with anything? Humans don’t like werewolves. Wolves don’t like werewolves. People don’t like wolves that can think like people, an’ people don’t like people who can act like wolves. Which just shows you that people are the same everywhere,’ said Gaspode. He assessed this sentence and added, ‘Even when they’re wolves.’
‘I never thought of it like that.’
‘And she smells wrong. Wolves are very sensitive to that sort of thing.’
‘Tell me more about the howl.’
‘Oh, it’s like the clacky thing. News gets spread for hundreds of miles.’
‘Do the howls … mention her … companion?’
‘No, If you like, I’ll ask Ars-‘
‘I’d prefer a different name, if it’s all the same to you,’ said Carrot. ‘Words like that aren’t clever.’
Gaspode rolled his eyes. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the word among us pedestically gifted species,’ he said. ‘We’re very smelloriented.’ He sighed. ‘How about “bum”? In the sense of, er, migratory worker? He’s a freelance chicken -throttler, style of frog?’
He turned to the wolf and spoke in canine. ‘Now then, Bum, this human is insane and believe me I know a mad human when I see one. He’s frothing at the mouth inside and he’ll rip your hide off and nail it to a tree if you aren’t straight with us, understand?
… well, they were the same, right? Everyone knew that. So-oo, said a treacherous inner voice, maybe it wasn’t exactly Gaspode and Carrot in trouble. Maybe it was only Carrot. Yeah, right on, brothers! Let us join together in wild runs in the moonlight! But first, let us eat this monkey!
On the other paw …
He’d got hard pad, soft pad, the swinge, licky end, scroff, mange and something rather strange on the back of his neck that he couldn’t quite reach. Gaspode somehow couldn’t imagine the wolves saying Hey, he’s one of us!
Besides, while he’d begged, fought, tricked and stolen, he’d never actually been a Bad Dog.
You needed to be a moderately good theological disputant to accept this, especially since a fair number of sausages and prime cuts had disappeared from butchers’ slabs in a blur of grey and a lingering odour of lavatory carpet, but nevertheless Gaspode was clear in his own mind that he’d never crossed the boundary from merely being a Naughty Boy. He’d never bitten a hand that fed him.* He’d never done It on the carpet. He’d never shirked a Duty. It was a bugger, but there you were. It was a dog thing.
He whined when the ring of dark shapes closed in.
Eyes gleamed.
He whined again, and then growled as unseen fanged death surrounded him.
*After all, this made it so much harder for the hand to feed you tomorrow.
This was clearly impressing no one, not even Gaspode.
He wagged his tail nervously. ‘Just passin’ through!’ he said in a strangulatedly cheerful voice. ‘No trouble to anyone!’
There was a definite feeling that the shadows beyond the snowflakes were getting more crowded.
‘So, have you had your holidays yet?’ he squeaked.
This also did not appear to be well received.