'Yes, Nobby?'
'Did that look a bit familiar to you?'
'I know what you mean.'
Nobby fidgeted awkwardly.
'You should've bawled her out for not being in uniform,' he said.
'Bit tricky, that.'
'If I'd run through here without me clothes on, you'd fine me a half a dollar for being improperly dressed—'
'Here's half a dollar, Nobby. Now shut up.'
Lord Vetinari beamed at them. Then there was the guard in the corner, another of the big lumpy ones—
'Still all right, your lordship?' said Nobby.
'Who's that gentleman?'
He followed the Patrician's gaze.
'That's Detritus the troll, sir.'
'Why is he sitting like that?'
'He's thinking, sir.'
'He hasn't moved for some time.'
'He thinks slow, sir.'
Detritus stood up. There was something about the way he did it, some hint of a mighty continent beginning a tectonic movement that would end in the fearsome creation of some unscalable mountain range, which made people stop and look. Not one of the watchers was familiar with the experience of watching mountain building, but now they had some vague idea of what it was like: it was like Detritus standing up, with Cuddy's twisted axe in his hand.
'But deep, sometimes,' said Nobby, eyeing various possible escape routes.
The troll stared at the crowd as if wondering what they were doing there. Then, arms swinging, he began to walk forward.
'Acting-Constable Detritus . . . er . . . as you were Colon ventured.
Detritus ignored him. He was moving quite fast now, in the deceptive way that lava does.
He reached the wall, and punched it out of the way.
'Has anyone been giving him sulphur?' said Nobby.
Colon looked around at the guard. 'Lance-Constable Bauxite! Lance-Constable Coalface! Apprehend Acting-Constable Detritus!'
The two trolls looked first at the retreating form of Detritus, then at one another, and finally at Sergeant Colon.
Bauxite managed a salute.
'Permission for leave to attend grandmother's funeral, sir?'
'Why?'
'It her or me, sarge.'