Part 59 (1/2)
”Yeah, but...she thought you was a woman, n.o.bby.”
”Right. So she saw, like, my inner self, shorn of...” n.o.bby's lips moved as he concentrated, ”shorn of surface thingy. That's what Angua said. Anyway, then I thought, well, her boyfriend'll be coming back, so I thought I'd be n.o.ble about it and give her up.”
”'cos he might be a big stroppy bloke, too,” said Sergeant Colon.
”I never thought about that, sarge.”
They paced for a while.
”It's a far, far better thing I do now than I have ever done before,” said n.o.bby.
”Right,” said Sergeant Colon. They walked on in silence for a while and he added: ”O' course, that's not difficult.”
”I still got the hanky she gave me, look.”
”Very nice, n.o.bby.”
”That's genuine Klatchian silk, that is.”
”Yeah, it looks very nice.”
”I'm never going to wash it, sarge.”
”You soppy old thing, n.o.bby,” said Fred Colon.
He watched Corporal n.o.bbs blow his nose.
”So...you're going to stop using it, are you?” he said, doubtfully.
”It still bends, sarge. See?” n.o.bby demonstrated.
”Yeah, right. Silly of me to ask, really.”
Overhead, the weathervanes started to creak round.
”Made me a lot more understanding about women, that experience,” said n.o.bby.
Colon, a much-married man, said nothing.
”I met Verity Pushpram this afternoon,” n.o.bby went on, ”and I said how about coming out with me tonight and I don't mind about the squint at all and I've got this expensive exotic perfume which'll totally disguise your smell, and she said b.u.g.g.e.r off and threw an eel at me.”
”Not good, then,” said Colon.
”Oh, yeah yeah, sarge, 'cos she used used to just to just cuss cuss when she saw me. And I've still got the eel, and there's a good feed off it, so I look upon it as a very positive step.” when she saw me. And I've still got the eel, and there's a good feed off it, so I look upon it as a very positive step.”
”Could be. Could be. Just so long as you give someone that scent soon, eh? Only even the people across the street are starting to complain.”
Their feet, moving like bees toward a flower, had found their way to the waterfront. They looked up at the Klatchian's Head, on its spike.
”It's only wooden,” said Colon.
n.o.bby said nothing.
”And it's, like, part of our traditional heritage an' that,” Colon went on, but hesitantly, as if he didn't believe his own voice.
n.o.bby blew his nose again, an exercise which, with all its little arpeggios and flourishes, went on for some time.
The sergeant gave in. Some things didn't seem quite the same any more, he had to admit. ”I've never really liked the place. Let's go to the Bunch of Grapes then, all right?”
n.o.bby nodded.
”Anyway, the beer here is frankly p.i.s.s,” said Colon.
Lady Sybil held her handkerchief in front of her husband.
”Spit!” she commanded.
Then she carefully cleaned a s.m.u.t off his cheek.
”There. Now you look very-”
”-ducal,” said Vimes gloomily. ”I thought I'd done this once already...”
”They never actually had the Convivium after all that fuss,” said Lady Sybil, picking some microscopic lint off his doublet. ”It's got to be held.”
”You'd think if I'm a duke I wouldn't have to wear all this d.a.m.n silly outfit, wouldn't you?”
”Well, I did point out that you could wear the official ducal regalia, dear.”
”Yes, I've seen it. White silk stockings are not me me.”
”Well, you've got the calves for them-”
”I think I'll stick with the commander's costume,” said Vimes quickly.
Archchancellor Ridcully hurried up. ”Ah, we're ready for you now, Lord Vi-”
”Call me Sir Samuel,” said Vimes. ”I can just about live with that.”