Men at Arms (Discworld 15)

'Sorry, doctor, Edward left us weeks ago and I didn't think—'

'You didn't think? What are you paid for?'

'Never seen him in such a temper,' said Gaspode.

There was a cough behind the chief Assassin. Dr Whiteface had emerged from the room.

Ah, doctor,' said Dr Cruces. 'I think perhaps we'd better go and discuss this further in my study, yes?'

'I really am most terribly sorry, my lord—'

'Don't mention it. The little . . . devil has made us both 2.80 look like fools. Oh . . . nothing personal, of course. Mr Downey, the Fools and the Assassins will be guarding this hole until we can get some masons in tomorrow. No-one is to go through, you understand?'

'Yes, doctor.'

'Very well.'

'That's Mr Downey,' said Gaspode, as Dr Cruces and the chief clown disappeared down the corridor. 'Number two in the Assassins.' He scratched his ear. 'He'd knock off old Cruces for tuppence if it wasn't against the rules.'

Angua trotted forward. Downey, who was wiping his forehead with a black handkerchief, looked down.

'Hello, you're new,' he said. He glanced at Gaspode. And the mutt's back, I see.'

'Woof, woof,' said Gaspode, his stump of a tail thump-ing the floor. 'Incident'ly,' he added for Angua's benefit, he's often good for a peppermint if you catch him in the right mood. He's poisoned fifteen people this year. He's almost as good with poisons as old Cruces.'

'Do I need to know that?' said Angua. Downey patted her on the head.

'Oh, Assassins shouldn't kill unless they're being paid. It's these little tips that make all the difference.'

Now Angua was in a position to see the door. There was a name written on a piece of card stuck in a metal bracket.

Edward d'Eath.

'Edward d'Eath,' she said.

'There's a name that tolls a bell,' said Gaspode. 'Family used to live up Kingsway. Used to be as rich as Creosote.'

'Who was Creosote?'

'Some foreign bugger who was rich.'

'Oh.'

'But great-grandad had a terrible thirst, and grandad chased anything in a dress, his dress, you understand, and old d'Eath, well, he was sober and clean but lost the rest of the family money on account of having a blind spot when it came to telling the difference between a one and an eleven.'

'I can't see how that loses you money.'

'It does if you think you can play Cripple Mr Onion with the big boys.'

The werewolf and the dog padded back down the corridor.

'Do you know anything about Master Edward?' said Angua.

'Nope. The house was flogged off recently. Family debts. Haven't seen him around.'

'You're certainly a mine of information,' she said.

'I gets around. No-one notices dogs.' Gaspode wrinkled his nose. It looked like a withered truffle. 'Blimey. Stinks of gonne, doesn't it.'