That was the strange thing, Colon remembered later. Everyone looked at Carrot.
Gaspode sniffed a lamp-post.
'I see Three-legged Shep has been ill again,' he said 'And old Willy the Pup is back in town.'
To a dog, a well-placed hitching post or lamp is a social calendar.
'Where are we?' said Angua. Foul Ole Ron's trail was hard to follow. There were so many other smells.
'Somewhere in the Shades,' said Gaspode. 'Sweethear Lane, smells like.' He snuffled across the ground. Ah here he is again, the little . . .'
' 'ullo, Gaspode . . .'
It was a deep, hoarse voice, a kind of whisper wit? sand in it. It came from somewhere in an alley.
' 'o's yer fwiend, Gaspode?'
There was a snigger.
'Ah,' said Gaspode. 'Uh. Hi, guys.'
Two dogs emerged from the alley. They were huge. Their species was indeterminate. One of them was jet black and looked like a pit bull terrier crossed with a mincing machine. The other . . . the other looked like a dog whose name was almost certainly 'Butch'. Both sop and bottom set of fangs had grown so large that he appeared to be looking at the world through bars. He was also bow-legged, although it would probably be a tad if not terminal move for anyone to comment on Gaspode's tail vibrated nervously.
These are my friends Black Roger and —'
Butch?' suggested Angua.
How did you know that?' A lucky guess,' said Angua.
The two big dogs had moved around so that they were e either side of them.
Well, well, well,' said Black Roger. 'Who's this, then?' Angua,' said Gaspode. 'She's a —'
but only back in Elm Street. This is my only uniform.'
'You have to put some clothes on when you're human ?'
'Yes.'
'Why? I would have thought a nude woman would be at home in any company, no offence meant.'
'I prefer clothes.'
Gaspode sniffed at the dirt.
'Come on, then,' he sighed. 'We'd better catch up Foul Ole Ron before your chainmail becomes a bottle of Bearhugger's, yes?'
Angua looked around. The scent of Foul Ole Ron was practically tangible.
'All right. But let's be quick about it.'
Wolfbane? You didn't need daft old herbs to make your life a problem, if you spent one week every month with two extra legs and four extra nipples.
There were crowds around the Patrician's Palace, and outside the Assassins' Guild. A lot of beggars were in evidence. They looked ugly. Looking ugly is a beggar's stock in trade in any case. These looked uglier than necessary.
The militia peered around a corner.
'There's hundreds of people,' said Colon. And loads of trolls outside the Day Watch.'