Men at Arms (Discworld 15)

'Did he have any weapons?'

'Just a stick. One stick.'

'Only . . . I smell fireworks.'

Cuddy pulled his head back, very carefully.

There had been the smell of fireworks in Hammer-hock's workshop. And Mr Hammerhock ended up with a big hole in his chest. And a sense of named dread, which is much more specific and terrifying than nameless dread, was stealing over Cuddy. It was similar to the feeling you get when you're playing a high stakes game and your opponent suddenly grins and you realize that you don't know all the rules but you do know you'll be lucky to get out of this with, if you are very fortunate, your shirt.

On the other hand . . . he could picture Sergeant Colon's face. We chased this man into an alley, sarge, and then we came away . . .

He drew his sword.

'Lance-Constable Detritus?'

'Yes, Lance-Constable Cuddy?'

'Follow me.'

Why? The damn thing was made of metal, wasn't it? Ten minutes in a hot crucible and that'd be the end of the problem. Something like that, something dangerous, why not just get rid of it? Why keep it?

But that wasn't human nature, was it? Sometimes things were too fascinating to destroy.

He looked at the strange metal tubes. Six short pipes, welded together, sealed firmly at one end. There was a small hole in the top side of each of the pipes . . .

Vimes slowly picked up one of the lumps of lead . . .

The alley twisted once or twice, but there were no other alleys or doors off it. There was one at the far end. It was larger than a normal door, and heavily constructed.

'Where are we?' whispered Cuddy.

'Don't know,' said Detritus. 'Back of the docks somewhere.'

Cuddy pushed open the door with his sword.

'Cuddy?'

'Yeah?'

'We walked seven-ty-nine steps!'

'That's nice.'

Cold air rushed past them.

'Meat store,' whispered Cuddy. 'Someone picked the lock.'

He slipped through and into a high, gloomy room, as large as a temple, which in some ways it resembled. Faint light crept through the high, ice-covered windows. From rack upon rack, all the way to the ceiling, hung meat carcasses.

They were semi-transparent and so very cold Cuddy's breath turned to crystals in the air.

'Oh, my,' said Detritus. 'I think this the pork futures warehouse in Morpork Road.'

'What?'

'Used to work here,' said the troll. 'Used to work everywhere. Go away, you stupid troll, you too thick,' he added, gloomily.

'Is there any way out?'