"Hmm?" he said.
"Do you wish me to recall Vimes, sir?"
"Good heavens, no. Vimes in Uberwald will be more amusing than an amorous armadillo in a bowling alley. And who else could I send? Only Vimes could go to Uberwald."
"But surely this is an emergency, sir?"
"Hmm?"
"What else are we to call it, sir, when a young man of such promise throws away his career for the pursuit of a girl?"
The Patrician stroked his beard and smiled at something.
There was a line across the map: the progress of the semaphore towers. It was mathematically straight, a statement of intellect in the crowding darkness of miles and miles of bloody Uberwald.
"Possibly, a bonus," he said. "Uberwald has much to teach us. Fetch me the papers on the werewolf clans, will you? Oh, and although I swore I would never ever do this, please prepare a message for Sergeant Colon, too. Promotion, alas, beckons."
A grubby cloth cap lay on the pavement. On the pavement beside the cap someone had written in damp chalk:
Plese HelP This LiTTle doGGie.
Beside it sat a small dog.
It was not cut out by nature to be a friendly little waggy-tailed dog, but it was making the effort. Whenever someone walked by it sat up on its hind legs and whined pitifully.
Something landed in the cap. It was a washer.
The charitable pedestrian had gone only a few steps further along the road when he heard: "And I hope your legs fall off, mister."
The man turned. The dog was watching him intently.
"Woof?" it said.
He looked puzzled, shrugged, and then turned and walked on.
"Yeah, bloody woof woof," said the strange voice, as he was about to turn the corner.
A hand reached down and picked up the dog by the scruff of its neck. "Hello, Gaspode. I believe I"ve solved a little mystery."
"Oh, no..." the dog moaned.
"That"s not being a good dog, Gaspode," said Carrot, lifting the dog so they could meet eye to eye.
"All right, all right, put me down, will you? This hurts, you know."
"I need your help, Gaspode."
"Not me. I don"t help the Watch. Nothing personal, but it doesn"t do anything for my street cred."
"I"m not talking about helping the Watch, Gaspode. This is personal. I need your nose." Carrot lowered the dog to the pavement and rubbed his hand on his shirt. "Unfortunately, this means I need the rest of you as well, although of course I am aware that under that itchy exterior beats a heart of gold."
"Really," said Gaspode. "Nothing good starts with "I need your help." "
"It"s Angua."
"Oh dear."
"I want you to track her."