Once again Vimes was aware of a lot of words that he hadn’t heard. A wise man didn’t make enquiries at a time like this. Besides, Vimes could feel the cold coming up through his feet.
He reached a decision. ‘Give me your notebook, captain,’ he said.
They watched him scribble a few lines.
‘Stop at the clacks tower and send a message on to the Yard,’ he said, handing it back to Carrot. ‘Tell them you’re on the way. Take young Igor here with you and get him settled in, Okay? And make a report to his lordship.’
‘Er, you’re not coming?’ said Carrot.
‘Her ladyship and I will take the other coach,’ said Vimes. ‘Or buy a sleigh. Very comfy things, sleighs. And we’ll, we’ll just take it a little easier. We’ll see the sights. We’ll dawdle along the way. Understand?’
He saw Angua smile and wondered if Sybil had confided in her.
‘Absolutely, sir,’ said Carrot.
‘Oh, and, er, go along to Burleigh Fr Stronginthearm’s, order a couple of dozen of everything off the top of their small arms catalogue, and get them on to the next mail coach due to Bonk for the personal attention of Captain Tantony.’
‘The mail coach rate will be very expensive, sir …’ Carrot began.
‘I didn’t want you to tell me that, captain. I wanted you to say, “Yes, sir.”’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And ask at the gate about … three gloomy biddies who live in a big house near here. It’s got a cherry orchard. Find out the address and when you get back send them three coach tickets to AnkhMorpork.’
‘Right, sir.’
‘Well done. Travel safely. I’ll see you in a week. Or two. Three at the outside. All right?’
A few minutes later he stood shivering on the steps, watching the coach disappear into the crisp morning.
He felt a pang of guilt, but it was only a little pang. He gave every day to the Watch and it was time, he thought, for it to give him a week. Or two. Three at the outside.
In fact, he realized, as pangs. went it was barely a ping which was, he recalled, a dialect word for watermeadow. Right now he could see a future, which was more than he’d ever had before.
He locked the door and went back to bed.
On a clear day, from the right vantage point on the Ramtops, a watcher could see a very long way across the plains.
The dwarfs had harnessed mountain streams and built a staircase of locks that rose a mile up from the rolling grasslands, for the use of which they charged not just a pretty penny but a very handsome dollar. Barges were always ascending or descending, making their way down to the river Smarl and the cities of the plain. They carried coal, iron, fireclay, pig treacle* and fat, the dull ingredients of the pudding of civilization.
In the sharp, thin air they took several days to get out of sight. On a clear day, you could see next Wednesday.
The captain of one of the barges waiting for the top lock went to tip the dregs of his teapot over the side and saw a small dog sitting on the snowy bank. It sat up and begged, hopefully.
He turned to go back into the cabin when he thought: what a nice little doggie.
It was such a clear thought that it almost seemed to him that he had heard it, but he looked around and there was no one else near him. And dogs certainly couldn’t talk.
He heard himself think: ‘This little doggie would be very useful keepin’ down rats that might attack the cargo, sort of frog.’
It must have been his thought, he decided. There was no one else nearby, and everyone knew dogs didn’t talk.
He said aloud, ‘But rats don’t eat coal, do they?’
He thought, clear as day: ‘Ah, well, you never know when they might try, right? Anyway, it’s such a sweet-looking little doggie that’s been strugglin’ for days through deep snow, huh, not that anyone cares.’
*The treacle mines below AnkhMorpork had long been exhausted, leaving only a street name to remember them by. But the collision with the Fifth Elephant had buried thousands of acres of prehistoric sugarcane around the borders of Uberwald and the resulting dense crystalline sugar was the foundation of a large mining, confectionery and dentistry industry.
The bargeman gave up. There’s only so long you can argue with yourself.
Ten minutes later the barge was on the long drop to the plains, with a small dog sitting at the prow, enjoying the breeze.
On the whole, thought Gaspode, it was always best to look to the future.
Nobby Nobbs had made himself a shelter up against the wall of the Watch House, and was gloomily warming his hands when a shadow loomed over him.
‘What are you doing, Nobby?’ said Carrot.
‘Huh? Captain?’
‘There’s no one on the gates, there’s no one on patrol. Didn’t anyone get my message? What’s happening?’
Nobby licked his lips. ‘We-ell,’ he said. ‘There isn’t . .. . well, there isn’t a Watch at the moment. Not per say.’ He flinched. He saw Angua behind Carrot. ‘Er, Mister Vimes with you at all?’
‘What is happening, Nobby?’
‘Well, you see … Fred kind of … and then he got all sort of … then next thing you know he was setting for to … and then we … and then he wouldn’t come out … and then we … and he nailed up the door … and Mrs Fred came and shouted at him through the letterbox … and most of the lads have gone off and got other jobs … and now there’s just me and Dorfl and Reg and Washpot, and we come here turn and turn about and we shove food through the letterbox for him … and … that’s it, reelly …’
‘Can we have that again with the gaps filled in?’ said Carrot.
This took considerably longer. There were still gaps. Carrot forced them open.
‘I see,’ he said at last.
‘Mister Vimes is going to go spare, isn’t he?’ said Nobby miserably.
‘I wouldn’t worry about Mister Vimes,’ said Angua. ‘Not at the moment.’
Carrot was looking up at the front door. It was thick oak. There were bars at all the windows.
‘Go and fetch Constable Dorfl, Nobby,’ he said.
Ten minutes later the Watch House had a new doorway. Carrot stepped over the wreckage and led the way upstairs.
Fred Colon was hunched in the chair, staring fixedly at one solitary sugar lump.
‘Be careful,’ whispered Angua. ‘He might be in a rather fragile mental state.’
‘That’s very likely,’ said Carrot. He leaned down and whispered: ‘Fred?’
‘Mm?’ murmured Colon.
‘On your feet, sergeant! Am 1 ‘urtin’ you? 1 ought to be, I’m standin’ on your beard! You’ve got five minutes to wash and shave and be back here with shinin’ mornin’ face! On your feet! To the washroom! Abou-ut turn! At the double! One-two-one-two!’
It seemed to Angua that no part of Fred Colon above the neck, except maybe for his ears, was involved in what happened next. Fred Colon rose at attention, executed a thudding about-turn and doubled out of the door.
Carrot spun around towards Nobby. ‘You too, corporal!’
Nobby, trembling with shock, saluted with both hands at once and ran after Colon.
Carrot went over to the fireplace and poked at the ashes. ‘Oh dear,’ he said.
‘All burnt?’ said Angua.
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Some of those heaps were like old friends.’
‘Well, we’ll find out if we’ve missed anything important when it starts to smell,’ said Carrot.
Nobby and Colon appeared again, breathless and pink. There were a few bits of tissue stuck on Colon’s face where the shaving had been too enthusiastic, but he was nevertheless looking better. He was a sergeant again. Someone was giving him orders. His brain was moving. The world was the right side up once more.
‘Fred?’ said Carrot.
‘Yessir?’
‘You’ve got a bit of bird doings on your shoulder.’
‘I’ll see to that right now, sir!’ said Nobby, leaping sideways. He dragged a handkerchief from his pocket, spat on it, and rubbed hurriedly at Colon’s temporary pip. ‘All gone now, Fred!’ he said.
‘Well done,’ said Carrot.
He got up and went over to the window. It did not, in fact, offer much in the way of a view. But he looked out of it as if he could see to the end of the world.
Colon and Nobby shifted uneasily. Right now they did not like the sound of silence. When Carrot did speak they blinked as if struck in the face by a cold flannel.
‘What I believe there has been here,’ he said, ‘is a confused situation.’
‘That’s right, that’s right,’ said Nobby quickly. ‘We was very confused. Fred?’
He jabbed Fred Colon with his elbow, waking him from a reverie of terror.