"Let"s just say I think it"s an earnest of good intent, shall we?" "Dat"s good, sir," said the troll. "Ernest who?"
"Er, someone we know wants to show us what a good citizen he
is. Get to it, okay?"
Detritus slung his crossbow over his shoulder for ease of carriage
and knuckled off at high speed. Vimes leaned against the wall. This
was going to be a long day. And now he -
On the wall, just a little above head height, a troll had scored a
rough sketch of a cut diamond. You could tell troll graffiti easily -
they did it with a fingernail and it was usually an inch deep in the
masonry.
Next to the diamond was scored: SHINE.
"Ahem," said a small voice in his pocket. Vimes sighed
and pulled out the Gooseberry while he still stared at the
word.
"Yes?"
"You said you didn"t want to be interrupted. .: said the imp
defensively.
"Well? What have you got to say?"
"It"s eleven minutes to six, Insert Name Here," said the imp meekly.
"Good grief! Why didn"t you tell me!"
"Because you said you didn"t want to be interrupted!" the imp quavered.
"Yes, but not " Vimes stopped. Eleven minutes. He couldn"t run it, not at this time of day. "Six o"clock is ... important."
"You didn"t tell me that!" said the imp, holding its head in its hands. "You just said no interruptions! I"m really, really sorry-"
Shine forgotten, Vimes looked around desperately at the nearby buildings. There wasn"t much use for clacks towers down here where the slaughterhouse district met the docks, but he spotted the big semaphore tower atop the dock superintendent"s office.
"Get up there!" he ordered, opening the box. "Tell them you"ve come from me and this is priority one, right? They"re to tell Pseudopolis Yard where I"m starting from! I"ll cross the river on Misbegot Bridge and head along Prouts! The officers at the Yard will know what this is all about! Go!"
The imp went from despair to enthusiasm in an instant. It saluted. "Yes indeed, sir. The BluenoseTM Integrated Messenger Service will not let you down, Insert Name Here. I shall interface right away!" It leapt down and became a disappearing blur of green.
Vimes ran down to the dockside and began to race upriver, past the ships. The docks were always too crowded and the road was an obstacle course of bales and ropes and piles of crates, with an argument every ten yards. But Vimes was a runner by nature, and knew all the ways to make progress in the city"s crowded streets. He dodged and leapt, jinked and weaved and, where necessary, barged. A rope tripped him up; he rolled upright. A stevedore barged into him; Vimes laid him out with an uppercut and speeded up in case the man had chums around.
This was important ...
A shiny four-horse carriage swung out of Monkey Street, with two footmen clinging to the back of it. Vimes speeded up in a desperate burst, grabbed a handhold, pulled himself up between the astonished footmen, dragged himself across the swaying roof and dropped down on the seat beside the young driver.
"City Watch," he announced, flashing his badge. "Keep going straight ahead!"