Part 12 (2/2)
”That's true. And it's sort of an emergency...Hmm...any thoughts, n.o.bby?”
n.o.bby sighed inwardly. A penny could drop through wet cement faster than it could drop for Fred Colon.
”A name springs to mind,” he said.
”Ah, right. Yes. Reg Shoe, right? Good at writing, a keen thinker, and of course he's coolheaded,” said Colon. ”Icy, practically.”
”But a bit on the dead side,” said n.o.bby.
”Yes, I suppose that counts against him.”
”And he goes to pieces unpredictably,” said n.o.bby.
”That's true,” said Captain Colon. ”No one likes shaking hands and ending up with more fingers than they started with.”
”So p'raps it might be better to consider someone who has been unreasonably overlooked,” said n.o.bby, going for broke. ”Someone who's face dunt fit, p'raps. Someone who's experience in the Watch gen'rally and in Traffic in particular could be great service to the city if people wouldn't go on about one or two lapses which didn't happen in any case.”
The dawn of intelligence rose across the vistas of Colon's face.
”Ah,” he said. ”I he said. ”I see see. Well, why didn't you come right out with that at the start, n.o.bby.”
”Well, it's your your decision, Fred...I mean, decision, Fred...I mean, Captain Captain,” said n.o.bby earnestly.
”But 'sposing Mister Vimes doesn't agree? He'll be back in a couple of weeks.”
”That'll be long enough,” said n.o.bby.
”And you don't mind?”
”Me? Mind? Not me. You know me, Fred, always ready to do my bit.”
”n.o.bby?”
”Yes, Fred?”
”The dress...”
”Yes, Fred?”
”I thought we weren't doing the...traffic calming any more?”
”Yes, Fred. But I thought I'm keep it on ready to swing into action just in case you decided that we should.”
A chilly wind blew across the cabbage fields.
To Gaspode it brought, beside the overpowering fumes of the cabbage and the dark red smell of the dung carts, hints of pine, mountains, snow, sweat and stale cigar smoke. The last came from the cart men's habit of smoking large, cheap cigars. They kept the flies off.
It was better than vision. The world of smell stretched before Gaspode.
”My paws hurt,” he said.
”There's a good dog,” said Carrot.
The road forked. Gaspode stopped, and snuffled around.
”Well, here's an int'resting fing,” he said. ”Some of the dung's jumped down off'f the cart and headed away across the fields here. You were right.”
”Can you smell water anywhere around?” said Carrot, scanning the flat plain.
Gaspode's mottled nose wrinkled up in effort.
”Pond,” he said. ”Not very big. 'Bout a mile away.”
”She'll be heading toward it. Very meticulous about cleanliness, Angua. That's not usual in werewolves.”
”Never been one for water myself,” said Gaspode.
”Is that a fact?”
”Here, no need for that! I had a B...A...T...H once, you know, it's not as if I don't know what it's like.”
The pond was in a clump of windblown trees. Dry gra.s.s rustled in the breeze. A single coot scuttled into the reeds as Carrot and Gaspode approached.
”Yeah, here we are,” said Gaspode. ”A lot of muck goes in, and...” He sniffed at the stirred-up mud. ”Er...yeah, she comes out. Um.”
”Is there a problem?” said Carrot.
”What? Oh, no. Clear scent. Headin' for the mountains, just like you said. Um.” Gaspode sat down and scratched himself with a hind leg.
”There is a problem, isn't there...” said Carrot.
”Well...supposin' there was something really bad that you wouldn't really want to know, and I knew what it was...how'd you feel about me tellin' you? I mean, some people'd rather not know. It's a pers'nal thing.”
”Gaspode!”
”She's not alone. There's another wolf.”
”Ah.”
Carrot's mild, uninformative smile did not change.
”Er...of the male persuasion,” said Gaspode. ”A boy wolf. Er. Very much so.”
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