Carpe Jugulum (Discworld 23)

'Why'th there a thtupid troll down there on the... bridge?' said Igor, taking the flask in one large hand which, Agnes noticed, was a mass of scars and stitches.

'Oh, that's Big Jim Beef. The King lets him live under there provided he looks official when we've got comp'ny comin'.'

'Beef ith an odd name for a troll.'

'He likes the sound of it,' said Nanny. 'It's like a man calling himself Rocky, I suppose. So... I used to know an Igor from Uberwald. Walked with a limp. One eye a bit higher than the other. Had the same manner of... speaking. Very good at brain juggling, too.'

'That thoundth like my Uncle Igor,' said Igor. 'He worked for the mad doctor at Blinz. Ha, an' he wath a proper mad doctor, too, not like the mad doctorth you get thethe dayth. And the thervantth? Even worthe. No pride thethe dayth.' He tapped the brandy flask for emphasis. 'When Uncle Igor wath thent out for a geniuth'th brain, that'th what you damn well got. There wath none of thith fumblefinger thtuff and then pinching a brain out of the "Really Inthane" jar and hopin' no one'd notithe. They alwayth do, anyway.'

Nanny took a step back. The only sensible way to hold a conversation with Igor was when you had an umbrella.

'I think I've heard of that chap,' she said. 'Didn't he stitch folk together out of dead parts?'

'No! Really?' said Agnes, shocked. 'Ow!'

'That'th right. Ith there a problem?'

'No, I call it prudent,' said Nanny, taking her foot off Agnes's toe. 'My mum was a dab hand at sewing a new sheet from bits of old ones, and people're worth more than linen. So he's your master now, is he?'

'No, my Uncle Igor thtill workth for him. Been thtruck by lightning three hundred timeth and thtill putth in a full night'th work.'

'Have a drop more of that brandy, it's very cold out here,' said Nanny. 'So who is your master, Igor?'

'Call them marthterth?' said Igor, with sudden venom and a light shower. 'Huh! Now the old Count, he wath a gentleman of the old thchool. He knew how it all workth. Proper evening dreth at all timeth, that'th the rule!'

'Evenin' dress, eh?' said Nanny.

'Meth! Thith lot only wear it in the evening, can you imagine that? The retht of the time it'th all thwanning around in fanthy waithtcoatth and lacy thkirtth! Hah! D'you know what thith lot have done?'

'Do tell...'

'They've oiled the hingeth!' Igor took a hefty pull of Nanny's special brandy. 'Thome of thothe thqueakth took bloody yearth to get right. But, oh no, now it'th "Igor, dean thothe thpiderth out of the dungeon" and "Igor, order up thome proper oil lampth, all thethe flickering torcheth are tho fifteen minuteth ago"! Tho the plathe lookth old? Being a vampire'th about continuity, ithn't it? You get lotht in the mountainth and thee a light burnin' in thome carthle, you got a right to expect proper thqueakin' doorth and thome old-world courtethy, don't you?'

'Ah, right. An' a bed in the room with a balcony outside,' said Nanny.

'My point egthactly!'

'Proper billowing curtains, too?'

'Damn right!'

'Real gutterin' candles?'

'I thpend ageth gettin' them properly dribbly. Not that anyone careth.'

'You got to get the details right, I always say,' said Nanny. 'Well, well, well... so our king invited vampires, eh?'

There was a thump as Igor slumped backwards and a tinny sound as the flask landed on the cobbles. Nanny picked it up and secreted it about her person.

'Good head for his drink,' she remarked. Not many people ever tasted Nanny Ogg's home-made brandy; it was technically impossible. Once it encountered the warmth of the human mouth it immediately turned into fumes. You drank it via your sinuses.

'What're we going to do?' said Agnes.

'Do? He invited 'em. They're guests,' said Nanny. 'I bet if I asked him Verence'd tell me to mind my own business. O' course, he wouldn't put it quite like that,' she added, since she knew the King had no suicidal tendencies. 'He'd prob'ly use the word "respect" two or three times at least. But it'd mean the same thing in the end.'

'But vampires... what's Granny going to say?'

'Listen, my girl, they'll be gone tomorrow... well, today, really. We'll just keep an eye on 'em and wave 'em goodbye when they go.'