Men at Arms (Discworld 15)

Carrot looked so crestfallen that Angua gave in.

'What time is it?' she said.

Carrot very carefully took Captain Vimes' presentation watch out of its cloth case.

'It's—'

—abing, abing, abong, bong . . . bing . . . bing . . .

They waited patiently until it had finished.

'A quarter to seven,' said Carrot. Absolutely accurate, too. I put it right by the big sundial in the University.'

Angua glanced at the sky.

'OK,' she said. 'I can find out, I think. Leave it to me.'

'How?'

'Er . . . I . . . well, I could get out of uniform, couldn't I, and, oh, talk my way in as a kitchen maid's sister or something . . .'

Carrot looked doubtful.

'You think that'll work?'

'Can you think of anything better?'

'Not right now.'

'Well, then. I'll . . . er . . . look . . . you go back to the rest of the men and . . . I'll find somewhere to change into something more suitable.'

She didn't have to look around to recognize where the snigger came from. Gaspode had a way of turning up silently like a small puff of methane in a crowded room, and with the latter's distressing ability to fill up all available space.

'Where can you get a change of clothes around here?' said Carrot.

A good Watchman is always ready to improvise,' said Angua.

'That little dog is awfully wheezy,' said Carrot. 'Why does he always follow us around?'

'I really couldn't say.'

'He's got a present for you.'

Angua risked a glance. Gaspode was holding, but only just, a very large bone in his mouth. It was wider than he was long, and might have belonged to something that died in a tar pit. It was green and furry in places.

'How nice,' she said, coldly. 'Look, you go on. Let me see what I can do . . .'

'If you're sure . . .' Carrot began, in a reluctant tone of voice.

'Yes.'

When he'd gone Angua headed for the nearest alley. There were only a few minutes to moonrise.

Sergeant Colon saluted when Carrot came back, frowning in thought.

'We can go home now, sir?' he suggested.

'What? Why?'