Guards! Guards! (Discworld 8)

The captain shook his head, and winced. “Carrot? Doesn't ring a bell. ” The tone of blurred conviction was enough even for Wonse, who was momentarily taken aback.

“He was quite-” The secretary hesitated. “Carrot, Carrot, ” he said. "I've heard the name before.

Seen it written down. “ His face went blank. ”The volunteer, that was it! Remember me showing you?''

Vimes stared at him. "Wasn't there a letter from, I don't know, some dwarf-?''

"All about serving the community and keeping the streets safe, that's right. Begging that his son would be found suitable for a humble position in the Watch. '' The secretary was rummaging among his files.

“What'd he done?” said Vimes.

“Nothing. That was it. Not a blessed thing. ”

Vimes's brow creased as his thoughts shaped themselves around a new concept.

“A volunteer?” he said.

“Yes. ”

“He didn't have to join?”

"He wanted to join. And you said it must be a joke, and I said we ought to try and get more ethnic minorities into the Watch. You remember?''

Vimes tried to. It wasn't easy. He was vaguely aware that he drank to forget. What made it rather pointless was that he couldn't remember what it was he was forgetting any more. In the end he just drank to forget about drinking.

A trawl of the chaotic assortment of recollections that he didn't even try to dignify any more by the name of memory produced no clue.

“Do I?” he said helplessly.

Wonse folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward.

“Now look, Captain, ” he said. “Lordship wants an explanation. I don't want to have to tell him the captain of the Night Watch hasn't the faintest idea what goes on among the men under, if I may use the term loosely, his command. That sort of thing only leads to trouble, questions asked, that sort of thing. We don't want that, do we. Do we?”

“No, sir, ” Vimes muttered. A vague recollection of someone earnestly talking to him in the Bunch of Grapes was bobbing guiltily at the back of his mind. Surely that hadn't been a dwarf? Not unless the qualification had been radically altered, at any rate.

“Of course we don't, ” said Wonse. “For old times' sake. And so on. So I'll think of something to tell him and you, Captain, will make a point of finding out what's going on and putting a stop to it. Give this dwarf a short lesson in what it means to be a guard, all right?”

“Haha, ” said Vimes dutifully.

“I'm sorry?” said Wonse.

“Oh. Thought you made an ethnic joke, there. Sir. ”

“Look, Vimes, I'm being very understanding. In the circumstances. Now, I want you to get out there and sort this out. Do you understand?”

o;Well, of course this is the case. ” The thief hesitated. The Patrician's last remark had barbs on it. You found yourself waiting for him to strike.

“Er, ” he said, hoping for a clue.

“With so much business being conducted, that is.”

Panic took over the thief's features. Randomised guilt flooded his mind. It wasn't a case of what had he done, it was a question of what the Patrician had found out about. The man had eyes everywhere, none of them so terrifying as the icy blue ones just above his nose.

“I, er, don't quite follow... ”he began.

“Curious choice of targets. ” The Patrician picked up a sheet of paper. “ For example, a crystal ball belonging to a fortune teller in Sheer Street. A small ornament from the temple of Offler the Crocodile God. And so on. Gewgaws. ”

“I am afraid I really don't know-” said the head thief. The Patrician leaned forward.