'Me neither,' said Gaspode. 'Until a couple of weeks ago. All my life, never said a bloody word. Worked for a bloke back in the big city. Tricks and that. Balancing a ball on my nose. Walkin' on me 'rod legs. Jumpin' through a 'oop. Carried the hat round in my mouf afterwards. You know. Show business. Then this woman pats me on me 'ead, says “Eow, wot a dear little doggy, he looks like he understands every word we say,” and I thinks, “Ho, ho, I don't even bother to make the effort any more, missus,” and then I realizes I can hear the words, and they're coming out of me own mouf. So I grabbed the 'at and had it away on my paws pretty damn quick, while they were still starin'.'
'Why?' said Victor.
Gaspode rolled his eyes. 'Exactly wot life do you fink a genuine talking dog is going to have?' he said. 'Shouldn't have opened my stupid mouth.'
'But you're talking to me,' said Victor.
Gaspode gave him a sly look.
'Yeah, but jus' you try tellin' anyone,' he said. 'Anyway, you're all right. You've got the look. I could tell it a mile orf.'
'What on earth do you mean?' said Victor.
'You don't fink you really belong to yourself, right?' said the dog. 'You've 'ad the feeling that something else is doin' your thinking for you?'
'Good grief.'
'Give you a kind of hunted look,' said Gaspode. He picked up the cap in his mouth. 'Tuppence,' he said indistinctly. 'I mean, it's not as if I've got any way of spending it, but . . . tuppence.' He gave a canine shrug.
'What do you mean by a hunted look?' said Victor.
'You've all got the look. Many are called and few are chosen, style of fing.'
'What look?'
'Like you've been called here and you don't know why.' Gaspode tried to scratch his ear again. 'Saw you acting Cohen the Barbarian,' he said.
'Er . . . what did you think of it?' said Victor.
'I reckon, so long as ode Cohen never gets to hear about it, you should be OK.'
'I said, how long ago was he in here?' shouted Dibbler. On the tiny stage, Ruby was crooning something in a voice like a ship in thick fog and bad trouble.
'GrooOOowwonnogghrhhooOOo-'[6]
'He only just went out!' bellowed Rock. 'I'm trying to listen to this song, all right?'
'-OowoowgrhhffrghooOOo-'[7]
Cut-me-own-Throat nudged Detritus, who was taking the weight off his knuckles and watching the floor show with his mouth open.
The old troll's life had, up to now, been very straightforward; people paid you money, and you hit other people.
Now it was beginning to get complicated. Ruby had winked at him.
Strange and unfamiliar emotions were rampaging through Detritus' battered heart.
r stared. Ruby undulated down from the tiny stage and glided among the customers, a small mountain in a four-wheel skid. She must weigh two tons, he thought. If she sits on my knee they'll have to roll me off the floor like a carpet.
'What did she just say to that troll?' he said, as a deep wave of laughter rolled across the room.
Rock scratched his nose. 'Is play on words,' he said. 'Very hard to translate. But basically, she say “Is that the legendary Sceptre of Magma who was King of the Mountain, Smiter of Thousands, Yea, Even Tens of Thousands, Ruler of the Golden River, Master of the Bridges, Delver in Dark Places, Crusher of Many Enemies”,' he took a deep breath, “'in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?”' Victor's forehead creased. 'I don't get it,' he said.
'Perhaps I not translate properly,' said Rock. He took a pull of molten sulphur. 'I hear Untied Alchemists is casting for-'
'Rock, there's something very odd about this place,' said Victor. urgently. 'Can't you feel it?' 'What odd?'
'Everything seems to, well, fizz. No-one acts like they should. Did you know there was a great city here once? Where the sea is. A great city. And it's just gone!'