"I think this, Mr Pessimal, is the point where we wake up Commander Vimes."
There was an old military saying that Fred Colon used to describe total bewilderment and confusion. An individual in that state, according to Fred, "couldn"t tell if it was arsehole or breakfast time.
This had always puzzled Vimes. He wondered what research had been done. Even now, with his mouth tasting of warmed-over yesterday and everything curiously sharp in his vision, he thought he"d be able to tell the difference. Only one was likely to include a cup of coffee, for a start.
He had one now, ergo, it was breakfast time. Actually, it was near lunchtime, but that would have to do.
The troll known to everyone else and occasionally to himself as Brick was seated in one of the big troll cells, but in deference to the fact that no one could decide if he was a prisoner or not, the door had been left unlocked. The understanding was that, provided he didn"t try to leave, no one would stop him leaving. Brick was engulfing his third bowl of the mineral-rich mud that, to a troll, was nourishing soup.
"What is Scrape?" Vimes said, leaning back in the room"s one spare chair and staring at Brick as a zoologist might eye a fascinating but highly unpredictable new species. He"d put the stone ball from the mysterious Mr Shine on the table by the bowl, to see if it got any reaction, but the troll paid it no attention.
"Scrape? You don"t see it much dese days now dat Slab"s so damn cheap," rumbled Detritus, who was watching his new find with a proprietorial air, like a mother hen watching a chick who was about to leave the nest. "It what you "scrape up", see? It a few bits o" draingrade Slab boiled up in a tin wi" alcohol and pigeon droppin"s. It what der street trolls make when dey is short o" cash an". .. What is it dey"s short of, Brick?"
The moving spoon paused. "Dey is short o" self-respect sergeant," he said, as one might who"d had the lesson shouted into his ear for twenty minutes.
"By Io, he got it!" said Detritus, slapping the skinny Brick on the back so hard that the young troll dropped his spoon in the steaming gloop. "But dis lad has promised me all dat is behind him and he is damn straight now, on account o" havin" joined my one-step programme! Ain"t dat so, Brick? No more Slab, Scrape, Slice, Slide, Slunkie, Slurp or Sliver for dis boy, right?"
"Yes, sergeant," said Brick obediently.
"Sergeant, why do the names of all troll drugs start with ess?" said Vimes.
"Ah, it make dem easier to remember, sir," said Detritus, nodding sagely.
"Ah, of course. I hadn"t spotted that said Vimes. "Has Sergeant Detritus explained to you why he calls it a one-step programme, Brick?" ;Don"t know what you mean, sir," said Vimes, collapsing gratefully into a chair.
"You don"t? I was referring, Vimes, to the speed with which both parties managed to incapacitate themselves with strong liquor at the same time ... ?"
"I wouldn"t know anything about that, sir: That was an automatic reaction; it made life simpler.
"No? It appears, Vimes, that whilst steeling themselves for the fracas to come, both the trolls and the dwarfs came into possession of what I assume they thought was beer ... ?"
"They had been on the pi- been drinking all day, sir," Vimes pointed out.
"Indeed, Vimes, and possibly that is why the dwarf contingent were less than cautious in drinking copiously from beer that had been considerably ... fortified? Areas of Sator Square, I gather, still smell faintly of apples, Vimes. One could come to believe, therefore, that what they were drinking was in fact a mixture of strong beer and stumble, which is, as you know, distilled from apples-"
"Uh, mostly apples, sir," said Vimes helpfully.
"Quite. The cocktail is known as Fluff, I believe. As to the trolls, one might speculate that it would be very hard to find anything to make their beer even more dangerous than it palpably is, but I wonder if you have heard, Vimes, that an admixture of various metallic salts produces a drink known as luglarr, or "Big Hammer"?
"Can"t say I have, sir:
"Vimes, some of the flagstones in the plaza have actually been etched by the stuff!"
"Sorry about that, sir:
Vetinari drummed his fingers on the table. "What would you do
if I asked you an outright question, Vimes?"
"I"d tell you a downright lie, sir:
"Then I will not do so," said Vetinari, smiling faintly. "Thank you, sir. Nor will I" "Where are your prisoners?"
"We spread them around the Watch House yards," said Vimes. "As
they wake up we hose "em clean, take their names, give "em a receipt
for their weapon and a hot drink and push "em out into the street." "Their weapons are culturally very important to them, Vimes," said Vetinari.