Unseen Academicals (Discworld 37)

Could be anyone, thought Glenda as cold dread blossomed. It's not as though it doesn't happen every week. It doesn't have to be either of them. It will be, of course, I know it, but I don't know it, can't possibly know it, and if I repeat that long enough it might all never have happened.

Got himself hurt, thought Glenda in the roar of panic. That quite likely means he happened to be standing in the wrong place in the wrong strip, which is tantamount to a self-inflicted wound. He got himself killed.

'My lads came in and said it was out in the street. That's what they just heard. He got killed, that's what they heard.'

'They didn't see anything?'

'That's right, they didn't see a thing.'

'But they were doing a lot of listening?'

That one went over Stollop's head without even bothering to climb. Andy was frozen. No one had ever seen Trev like it, not old Trev. Even the Dollies knew Trev was smart. Trev was slick. Trev wasn't the sort to commit suicide by yelling at a bunch of men who were already tensed for a fight.

The luckless Algernon, with Trev's rage baking his face, managed, 'But, like... he's a Dimmer... '

'Who are yer? You're a bloody fool, that's what you are!' screamed Trev.

He rounded on the others, finger shaking. 'Who are yer? Who are yer? Nuffin! You're rubbish! You're all shite!'

He jabbed the finger at Nutt. 'And him? He made stuff. He knew things. And he'd never seen a game before today! He was only wearing the strip to fit in!'

'Don't you worry, Trev, mate,' Andy hissed and raised his cutlass menacingly. 'There's going to be a bloody war about this!' But Trev was suddenly in his face like a wasp.

'You what? You are mental! You just don't get it, do you?'

'I can see helmets, Andy,' said Jumbo urgently.

'Me? What did I do?'

'As much as the stupid Stollops. Dimmers and Dollies? I hope the gods shit thin shit on both of you!'

'They're getting really close, Andy.'

The Stollop boys, who were not altogether dumb, were already leaving. People in football strip were criss-crossing the city. The Watch couldn't chase everyone. But, well, belting some bloke who then bled a lot and stopped breathing, well, that was tantamount to murder, and the Old Sam could develop quite a turn of speed in those circumstances.

Andy shook a furious finger at Trev. 'It's a hard life in the Shove when you're a dumb chuff with no mates.'

'This ain't the Shove!'

'Better wake up, kid. It's all Shove.'

The Posse left at speed, although Jumbo turned for a moment to mouth 'sorry'. They weren't the only ones hurrying off. The street people were all for a free cabaret, but this one might have associated difficulties: for example the asking of dangerous metaphysical questions such as 'Did you see anything?' and similar. It was all very well for the Watch to say 'the innocent have nothing to fear', but what was that all about? Who cared about the innocent and their problems when the Watch were on their way?

Trev knelt by the cooling body of the late Nutt.

And now for the first time in a minute, it seemed to Trev, he started to breathe again. He had stopped when he had raged at Andy 'cos if you talked like that to Andy you were dead anyway, so why waste your breath?

There were things you had to do, weren't there? Weren't you supposed to keep banging on the chest to, like, show the broken heart how to beat again? But he didn't know how, and you didn't need much smarts to know that it was not a good idea to try to learn with the Watch on the way. It would not give a good first impression.

That was why, when two watchmen turned up at speed, Trev was walking unsteadily towards them with Nutt in his arms. He was relieved to see that in charge was Constable Haddock: at least he was one of the ones who asked questions first. Behind him, and eclipsing most of the scenery, was Troll officer Bluejohn, who could clear a whole street just by walking down the centre of it.

'Can you help me get him to the Lady Sybil, Mister Haddock? He's very heavy,' said Trev.

Constable Haddock pulled the sodden shirt aside, and made a sad little clicking sound. With experience comes familiarity.

'Morgue's closer, lad.'

'No!'