'They say a Klatchian killed someone, sir. There's a mob up in Scandal Alley and it's looking bad. I was on the desk and I thought you ought to be told, sir.'
'Right!'
'And anyway I couldn't find Captain Carrot, sir.' A little bit of acid ink scribbled its subtle entry on the ledger of Vimes's soul. 'Oh, gods... so who's the officer in charge?'
'Sergeant Detritus, sir.' It seemed to the dwarf that she was suddenly standing still. Commander Vimes had become a rapidly disappearing blur. With the calm expression of someone who was methodically doing his duty, Detritus picked up a man and used him to hit some other men. When he had a clear area around him and a groaning heap of former rioters, he climbed the heap and cupped his hands round his mouth. 'Listen to me, youse people!' A troll shouting at the top of his voice could easily be heard above a riot. When he seemed to have their attention he pulled a scroll out of his breastplate and waved it over his head.
'Dis is der Riot Act,' he said. 'You know what dat means? It means if'n I reads it out and youse don't disb... disp... go away, der Watch can use deadly force, you unnerstand?'
'What did you just use, then?' moaned someone from underneath his feet. 'Dat was you helpin' der Watch,' said Detritus, shifting his weight. He unrolled the scroll. Although there was some scuffling in alleyways and shouts from the next street, a ring of silence expanded outwards from the troll. An almost genetic component of the citizens of Ankh–Morpork was their ability to spot an opportunity for amusement. Detritus held the document at arm's length. And then a few inches from his face. He tried turning it round. a few times. His lips moved uneasily. Finally, he leaned down and showed it to Constable Visit. 'What dis word?'
as shot from the University?'
'Looks like the library building,' said Angua. 'But a wizard wouldn't do it, surely? They keep out of that sort of thing.'
'Oh, it's not too hard to get in there, even when the gates are shut,' said Carrot. 'Let's try the unofficial way, shall we?'
'OK Carrot?'
'Yes?'
'The false moustache... it's not you, you know. And the nose is far too pink'
'Doesn't it make me look inconspicuous?'
'No. And the hat... I should lose the hat, too' It is a good hat,' she added quickly. 'But a brown bowler... it's not your style. It doesn't suit you.'
'Exactly!' said Carrot. 'If it was my style, people would know it's me, right?'
'I mean it makes you look like a twerp, Carrot.'
'Do I normally look like a twerp?'
'No, not–'
'Aha!' Carrot fumbled in the pocket of his large brown overcoat. 'I got this book of disguises from the joke shop in Phedre Road, look. Funny thing, Nobby was in there buying stuff too. I asked him why and he said it was desperate measures. What d'you think he meant by that?'
'I can't imagine,' said Angua. 'It's just amazing the stuff they've got. False hair, false noses, false beards, even false...' He hesitated, and began to blush. 'Even false... you know, chests. For ladies. But I can't imagine for the life of me why they'd want to disguise those.' He probably couldn't, Angua thought. She took the very small book from Carrot and glanced through it. She sighed. 'Carrot, these disguises are meant for a potato.'
'Are they?'
'Look, they're all on potatoes, see?'
'I thought that was just for display.'
'Carrot, it's got “Mr Spuddy Face” on it.' Behind his thick black moustache Carrot looked hurt and perplexed. 'What does a potato want a disguise for?' he said. They'd reached the alley alongside the University that had been known informally as Scholars' Entry for so many centuries that this was now on a nameplate at one end. A couple of student wizards went past. The unofficial entrance to the University has always been known only to students. What most students failed to remember was that the senior members of the faculty had also been students once, and also liked to get out and about after the official shutting of the gates. This naturally led to a certain amount of embarrassment and diplomacy on dark evenings. Carrot and Angua waited patiently as a few more students climbed over, followed by the Dean.
'Good evening, sir,' said Carrot, politely. 'Good evening to you, Spuddy,' said the Dean, and ambled off into the night. 'You see?'
'Ah, but he didn't call me Carrot,' said Carrot. 'The principle is sound.' They dropped down on to lawns of academia and headed for the library. 'It'll be shut,' said Angua. 'Remember, we have a man on the inside,' said Carrot, and knocked. The door opened a little way. 'Ook?' Carrot raised his horrible little round hat. 'Good evening, sir, I wonder if we could come in? It's Watch business.'
'Ook eek ook?'
' Er..., 'What did he say?' said Angua. 'If you must know, he said, “My goodness me, a walking potato,”' said Carrot. The Librarian wrinkled his nose at Angua. He did not like the smell of werewolves. But he beckoned them inside and then left them waiting while he knuckled back to his desk and rummaged in a drawer. He produced a Watch Special Constable's badge on a string, which he hung around the general area where his neck should have been, and then stood as much to attention as an orang–utan can, which is not a great deal. The central ape gets the idea but outlying areas are slow to catch on. 'Ook ook!'
'Was that “How may I be of assistance, Captain Tuber?”' said Angua. 'We need to have a look on the fifth floor, overlooking the square,' said Carrot, a shade coldly. 'Ook oook – ook.'
'He says that's just old storerooms,' said Carrot. 'And that last “ook'?' said Angua. ' ”Mr Horrible Hat“,' said Carrot. 'Still, he hasn't worked out who you are, eh?' said Angua. The fifth floor was a corridor of airless rooms, smelling sadly of old, unwanted books. They were stacked not on shelves but on wide racks, bundled up with string. A lot of them were battered and missing their covers. judging by what remained, though, they were old textbooks that not even the most ardent bibliophile could treasure. Carrot picked up a torn copy of Woddeley's Occult Primer. Several loose pages fell out. Angua picked one up. ”'Chapter Fifteen, Elementary Necromancy",' she read aloud. `Lesson One: Correct Use of Shovel...' She put it down again and sniffed the air. The presence of the Librarian filled the nasal room like an elephant in a matchbox, but–