Cuddy gave him a blank stare.
'Are you a giant?' he said.
'Me? Of course not!'
'Ah. Then I must be a dwarf, yes. And that's a troll behind me,' said Cuddy. Detritus pulled himself into something resembling attention.
'We've come to see if you can tell us what's on this paper,' said Cuddy.
'Yur,' said Detritus.
Silverfish looked at it.
'Oh, yes,' he said, 'some of old Leonard's stuff. Well?'
'Leonard?' said Cuddy. He glared at Detritus. 'Write this down,' he snapped.
'Leonard of Quirm,' said the alchemist.
Cuddy still looked lost.
'Never heard of him?' said Silverfish.
'Can't say I have, sir.'
'I thought everyone knew about Leonard da Quirm. Quite barmy. But a genius, too.'
'Was he an alchemist?'
Write this down, write this down . . . Detritus looked around blearily for a burnt bit of wood and a handy wall.
'Leonard? No. He didn't belong to a Guild. Or he belonged to all the Guilds, I suppose. He got around quite a bit. He tinkered, if you know what I mean?'
'No, sir.'
' He painted a bit, and messed about with mechanisms. Any old thing.'
Or a hammer and chisel even, thought Detritus.
'This,' said Silverfish, 'is a formula for . . . oh, well, I might as well tell you, it's hardly a big secret . . . it's a formula for what we called No. 1 Powder. Sulphur, saltpetre and charcoal. You use it in fireworks. Any fool could make it up. But it looks odd because it's written back to front.'
'This sounds important,' hissed Cuddy to the troll.
'Oh, no. He always used to write back to front,' said Silverfish. 'He was odd like that. But very clever all the same. Haven't you seen his portrait of the Mona Ogg?'
'I don't think so.'
Silverfish handed the parchment to Detritus, who squinted at it as if he knew what it meant. Maybe he could write on this, he thought.
'The teeth followed you around the room. Amazing. In fact some people said they followed them out of the room and all the way down the street.'
'I think we should talk to Mr da Quirm,' said Cuddy.
'Oh, you could do that, you could do that, certainly,' said Silverfish. 'But he might not be in a position to listen. He disappeared a couple of years ago.'
. . . then when I find something to write with, thought Detritus, I have to find someone teach me how write . . .
'Disappeared? How?' said Cuddy.