Now Angua was in a position to see the door. There was a name written on a piece of card stuck in a metal bracket.
Edward d’Eath.
‘Edward d’Eath,’ she said.
‘There’s a name that tolls a bell,’ said Gaspode. ‘Family used to live up Kingsway. Used to be as rich as Creosote.’
‘Who was Creosote?’
‘Some foreign bugger who was rich.’
‘Oh.’
‘But great-grandad had a terrible thirst, and grandad chased anything in a dress, his dress, you understand, and old d’Eath, well, he was sober and clean but lost the rest of the family money on account of having a blind spot when it came to telling the difference between a one and an eleven.’
‘I can’t see how that loses you money.’
‘It does if you think you can play Cripple Mr Onion with the big boys.’
The werewolf and the dog padded back down the corridor.
‘Do you know anything about Master Edward?’ said Angua.
‘Nope. The house was flogged off recently. Family debts. Haven’t seen him around.’
‘You’re certainly a mine of information,’ she said.
‘I gets around. No-one notices dogs.’ Gaspode wrinkled his nose. It looked like a withered truffle. ‘Blimey. Stinks of gonne, doesn’t it.’
‘Yes. Something odd about that,’ said Angua.
‘What?’
‘Something not right.’
There were other smells. Unwashed socks, other dogs, Dr Whiteface’s greasepaint, yesterday’s dinner – the scents filled the air. But the firework smell of what Angua was now automatically thinking of as the gonne wound around everything else, acrid as acid.
‘What’s not right?’
‘Don’t know . . . maybe it’s the gonne smell . . .’
‘Nah. That started off here. The gonne was kept here for years.’
‘Right. OK. Well, we’ve got a name. It might mean something to Carrot—’
Angua trotted down the stairs.
‘ ‘Scuse me . . .’ said Gaspode.
‘Yes?’
‘How can you turn back into a woman again?’
‘I just get out of the moonlight and . . . concentrate. That’s how it works.’
‘Cor. That’s all?’
‘If it’s technically full moon I can Change even during the day if I want to. I only have to Change when I’m in the moonlight.’
‘Get away? What about wolfbane?’
‘Wolfbane? It’s a plant. A type of aconite, I think. What about it?’
‘Don’t it kill you?’
‘Look, you don’t have to believe everything you hear about werewolves. We’re human, just like everyone else. Most of the time,’ she added.
By now they were outside the Guild and heading for the alley, which indeed they reached, but it lacked certain important features that it had included when they were last there. Most notable of these was Angua’s uniform, but there was also a world shortage of Foul Ole Ron.
‘Damn.’
They looked at the empty patch of mud.
‘Got any other clothes?’ said Gaspode.
‘Yes, but only back in Elm Street. This is my only uniform.’
‘You have to put some clothes on when you’re human ?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? I would have thought a nude woman would be at home in any company, no offence meant.’
‘I prefer clothes.’
Gaspode sniffed at the dirt.
‘Come on, then,’ he sighed. ‘We’d better catch up Foul Ole Ron before your chainmail becomes a bottle of Bearhugger’s, yes?’
Angua looked around. The scent of Foul Ole Ron was practically tangible.
‘All right. But let’s be quick about it.’
Wolfbane? You didn’t need daft old herbs to make your life a problem, if you spent one week every month with two extra legs and four extra nipples.
There were crowds around the Patrician’s Palace, and outside the Assassins’ Guild. A lot of beggars were in evidence. They looked ugly. Looking ugly is a beggar’s stock in trade in any case. These looked uglier than necessary.
The militia peered around a corner.
‘There’s hundreds of people,’ said Colon. And loads of trolls outside the Day Watch.’
‘Where’s the crowd thickest?’ said Carrot.
Anywhere the trolls are,’ said Colon. He remembered himself. ‘Only joking,’ he added.
‘Very well,’ said Carrot. ‘Everyone follow me.’
The babble stopped as the militia marched, lumbered, trotted and knuckled towards the Day Watch House.
A couple of very large trolls blocked the way. The crowd watched in expectant silence.
Any minute now, Colon thought, someone’s going to throw something. And then we’re all going to die.
He glanced up. Slowly and jerkily, gargoyle heads were appearing along the gutters. No-one wanted to miss a good fight.
Carrot nodded at the two trolls.
They’d got lichen all over them, Colon noticed.
‘It’s Bluejohn and Bauxite, isn’t it?’ said Carrot.
Bluejohn, despite himself, nodded. Bauxite was tougher, and merely glared.
‘You’re just the sort I was looking for,’ Carrot went on.
Colon gripped his helmet like a size #10 limpet trying to crawl up into a size #1 shell. Bauxite was an avalanche with feet.
‘You’re conscripted,’ said Carrot.
Colon peeked out from under the brim.
‘Report to Corporal Nobbs for your weapons. Lance-Constable Detritus will administer the oath.’ He stood back. ‘Welcome to the Citizens’ Watch. Remember, every lance-constable has a fieldmarshal’s baton in his knapsack.’
The trolls hadn’t moved.
Ain’t gonna be inna Watch,’ said Bauxite.
‘Officer material if ever I saw it,’ said Carrot.
‘Hey, you can’t put them in the Watch!’ shouted a dwarf from the crowd.
‘Why, hello, Mr Stronginthearm,’ said Carrot. ‘Good to see community leaders here. Why can’t they be in the militia?’
All the trolls listened intently. Stronginthearm realized that he was suddenly the centre of attention, and hesitated.
‘Well . . . you’ve only got the one dwarf, for one thing . . .’ he began.
‘I’m a dwarf,’ said Carrot, ‘technically.’
Stronginthearm looked a little nervous. The whole issue of Carrot’s keenly embraced dwarfishness was a difficult one for the more politically minded dwarfs.
‘You’re a bit big,’ he said lamely.
‘Big? What’s size got to do with being a dwarf?’ Carrot demanded.
‘Um . . . a lot?’ whispered Cuddy.
‘Good point,’ said Carrot. ‘That’s a good point.’ He scanned the faces. ‘Right. We need some honest, law-abiding dwarfs . . . you there . . .’
‘Me?’ said an unwary dwarf.
‘Have you got any previous convictions?’
‘Well, I dunno . . . I suppose I used to believe very firmly that a penny saved is a penny earned—’
‘Good. And I’ll take . . . you two . . . and you. Four more dwarfs, yes? Can’t complain about that, eh?’
‘Ain’t gonna be inna Watch,’ said Bauxite again, but uncertainty modulated his tone.
‘You trolls can’t leave now,’ said Detritus. ‘Otherwise, too many dwarfs. That’s numbers, that is.’
‘I’m not joining any Watch!’ said a dwarf.
‘Not man enough, eh?’ said Cuddy.
‘What? I’m as good as any bloody troll any day!’
‘Right, that’s sorted out then,’ said Carrot, rubbing his hands together. ‘Acting-Constable Cuddy?’
‘Sir?’
‘Hey,’ said Detritus, ‘how come he suddenly full constable?’
‘Since he was in charge of the dwarf recruits,’ said Carrot. ‘And you’re in charge of the troll recruits, Acting-Constable Detritus.’
‘I full acting-constable in charge of the troll recruits?’
‘Of course. Now, if you would step out of the way, Lance-Constable Bauxite—’
Behind Carrot, Detritus drew a big proud breath.
‘Ain’t gonna—’
‘Lance-Constable Bauxite! You horrible big troll! You standing up straight! You saluting right now! You stepping out of the way of Corporal Carrot! You two troll, you come here! Wurn . . . two-er . . . tree . . . four-er! You in the Watch now! Aaargh, I cannot believe it what my eye it seeing! Where you from, Bauxite?’
‘Slice Mountain, but—’
‘Slice Mountain! Slice Mountain? Only . . .’ Detritus looked at his fingers for a moment, and rammed them behind his back. ‘Only two-er things come from Slice Mountain! Rocks . . . an’ . . . an’ . . .’ he struck out wildly, ‘other sortsa rocks! What kind you, Bauxite?’
‘What the hell’s going on here?’
The Watch House door had opened. Captain Quirke emerged, sword in hand.
‘You two horrible troll! You raise your hand right now, you repeat troll oath—’
‘Ah, captain,’ said Carrot. ‘Can we have a word?’
‘You’re in real trouble, Corporal Garret,’ snarled Quirke. ‘Who do you think you are?’
‘I will do what I told—’
‘Don’t wanna be inna—’
Wham!
‘I will do what I told—’
‘Just the man on the spot, captain,’ said Carrot cheerfully.
‘Well, man on the spot, I’m the senior officer here, and you can damn well—’
‘Interesting point,’ said Carrot. He produced his black book. ‘I’m relieving you of your command.’
‘—otherwise I get my goohuloog head kicked in.’
‘—otherwise I get my goohuloog head kicked in.’
‘Wha—? Are you mad?’
‘No, sir, but I’m choosing to believe that you are. There are regulations laid down for this eventuality.’
‘Where is your authority?’ Quirke stared at the crowd. Hah! I suppose you’ll say this armed mob is your authority, eh?’
Carrot looked shocked.
‘No. The Laws and Ordinances of Ankh-Morpork, sir. It’s all down here. Can you tell me what evidence you have against the prisoner Coalface?’