Cuddy tried eight fingers.
'A twofour.'
Cuddy looked surprised. He'd expected 'many', or possibly 'lots'.
'What's a twofour?'
A two and a two and a two and a two.'
Cuddy put his head on one side.
'Hmm,' he said. 'OK. A twofour is what we call an eight.'
'Ate.'
'You know,' said Cuddy, subjecting the troll to a long critical stare, 'you might not be as stupid as you look. This is not hard. Let's think about this. I mean . . . I'll think about this, and you can join in when you know the words.'
Vimes slammed the Watch House door behind him. Sergeant Colon looked up from his desk. He had a pleased expression.
'What's been happening, Fred?'
Colon took a deep breath.
'Interesting stuff, captain. Me and Nobby did some detectoring up at the Fools' Guild. I've writ it all down what we found out. It's all here. A proper report.'
'Fine.'
'All written down, look. Properly. Punctuation and everything.'
'Well done.'
'It's got commas and everything, look.'
'I'm sure I shall enjoy it, Fred.'
'And the—and Cuddy and Detritus have found out stuff, too. Cuddy's done a report, too. But it's not got so much punctuation as mine.'
'How long have I been asleep?'
'Six hours.'
Vimes tried to make mental space for all of this, and failed.
'I've got to get something inside me,' he said. 'Some coffee or something. And then the world will somehow be better.'
Anyone strolling along Phedre Road might have seen a troll and a dwarf apparently shouting at one another in excitement.
A two-thirtytwo, and eight, and a one!'
'See? How many bricks in that pile?'
Pause.
A sixteen, an eight, a four, a one!'
'Remember what I said about dividing by eight-and-two?'
Longer pause.