Men at Arms (Discworld 15)

'THAT'S RIGHT!'

'Right. Give him his shilling. Acting-Constable Cuddy? One for your squad.'

'WHO'S ACTING-CONSTABLE CUDDY?' said Cumberbatch.

'Down here, mister.'

The man looked down.

'BUT YOU'RE! A DWARF! I NEVER—'

'Stand to attention when you're talking to a super-ierierior officer!' Cuddy bellowed.

Ain't no dwarfs or trolls or humans in the Watch, see,' said Colon. 'Just Watchmen, see? That's what Corporal Carrot says. Of course, if you'd like to be in Acting-Constable Detritus' squad—'

'I LIKE DWARFS,' said Cumberbatch, hurriedly. 'ALWAYS HAVE. NOT THAT THERE ARE ANY IN THE WATCH, MIND,' he added, after barely a second's thought.

'You learn quick. You'll go a long way in this man's army,' said Cuddy. 'You could have a field-marshal's bottom in your napkin any day now. AAAAaabbbb-wut tn! Hut, hut, hut—'

'Fifth volunteer so far,' said Colon to Corporal Nobbs, as Cuddy and his new recruit pounded off into the darkness. 'Even the Dean at the University tried to join. Amazing.'

Angua looked at Gaspode, who shrugged.

'Detritus is certainly clubbing 'em into line,' said Colon. After ten minutes they're putty in his hands. Mind you,' he added, 'after ten minutes anything's putty in them hands. Reminds me of the drill sergeant we had when I was first in the army.'

'Tough, was he?' said Nobby, lighting a cigarette.

'Tough? Tough? Blimey! Thirteen weeks of pure misery, that was! Ten-mile run every morning, up tc our necks in muck half the time, and him yelling a blue streak and cussin' us every living moment! One time he made me stay up all night cleaning the lawies with a toothbrush! He'd hit us with a spiky stick to get us out of bed! We had to jump through hoops for that man, we hated his damn guts, we'd have stuck one on him if any of us had the nerve but, of course, none of us did. He put us through three months of living death. But . . . y'know . . . after the passing-out parade . . . us looking at ourselves all in our new uniforms an' all, real soldiers at last, seein' what we'd become . . . well, we saw him in the bar and, well . . . I don't mind telling you . . .' The dogs watched Colon wipe away the suspicion of a tear.

'. . . Me and Tonker Jackson and Hoggy Spuds waited for him in the alley and beat seven kinds of hell out of him, it took three days for my knuckles to heal.' Colon blew his nose. 'Happy days . . . Fancy a boiled sweet, Nobby?'

'Don't mind if I do, Fred.'

'Give one to the little dog,' said Gaspode. Colon did, and then wondered why.

'See?' said Gaspode, crunching it up in his dreadful teeth. 'I'm brilliant. Brilliant.'

'You'd better pray Big Fido doesn't find out,' said Angua.

'Nah. He won't touch me. I worry him. I've got the Power.' He scratched an ear vigorously. 'Look, you don't have to go back in there, we could go and—'

'No.'

Story of my life,' said Gaspode. 'There's Gaspode. Give him a kick.'

I thought you had this big happy family to go back to.' said Angua, as she pushed open the door.

'Eh? Oh, yes. Right,' said Gaspode hurriedly. 'Yes. But I like my, sort of, independence. I could stroll back home like a shot, any time I wanted.'

Angua bounded up the stairs, and clawed open the nearest door.

It was Carrot's bedroom. The smell of him, a kind of golden-pink colour, filled it from edge to edge.

There was a drawing of a dwarf mine carefully pinned to one wall. Another held a large sheet of cheap paper on which had been drawn, in careful pencil line, with many crossings-out and smudges, a map of the city.

In front of the window, where a conscientious person would put it to take as much advantage as possible of the available light so's not to have to waste too many of the city's candles, was a small table. There was some paper on it, and a jar of pencils. There was an old chair, too; a piece of paper had been folded up and wedged under a wobbly leg.

And that, apart from a clothes chest, was it. It reminded her of Vimes' room. This was a place where someone came to sleep, not to live.