'Mmf,'
'Not too hot?'
William gratefully sprayed the tea in the direction of the river.
'Ah!' he said. 'Yes! Too hot! That's what it was! Too hot! Lovely tea but - too hot! I'll just put the rest down here by my foot to cool down, shall I?'
He snatched up his pencil and pad.
'So... er, Wuffles, which man was it that you bit on the leg?'
Wuffles barked.
'He bit all of them,' said the voice of Deep Bone. 'When you're biting, why stop?'
'Would you know them if you bit them again?'
'He says he would. He says the big man tasted of... you know...' Deep Bone paused, 'like a... wossname... big, big bowl with hot water and soap in it.'
'A bath?'
Wuffles growled.
'That'd... be the word,' said Deep Bone. 'An' the other one smelled of cheap hair oil. And the one who looked like G-- like Lord Vetinari, he smelled of wine,'
'Wine?'
'Yes. Wuffles also says he'd like to apologize for biting you just now, but he got carried away with the recollection. We-- that is to say, dogs have very physical memories, if you see what I mean,'
William nodded and rubbed his leg. The description of the invasion of the Oblong Office had been carried out in a succession of yelps, barks and growls, with Wuffles running around in circles and snapping at his own tail until he bumped into William's ankle.
'And Ron's been carrying him around in his coat ever since?'
'No one bothers Foul Ole Ron,' said Deep Bone.
'I believe you,' said William. He nodded at Wuffles.
'I want to get an iconograph of him,' he said. This is... amazing stuff. But we must have a picture to prove I've really talked to Wuffles. Well... via an interpreter, obviously. I wouldn't want people to think this is one of the Inquirer's stupid "talking dog" stories...'
There was some muttering amongst the crew. The request was not being favourably received.
This is a select neighbourhood, you know,' said the Duck Man. 'We don't allow just anybody down here,'
'But there's a path running right under the bridge!' said William. 'Anyone could walk right past!'
'Werll, yerss,' said Coffin Henry. They could.' He coughed and spat with great expertise into the fire. 'Only they don't no more.'
'Bugrit,' explained Foul Ole Ron. 'Choking a tinker? Garn! I told 'em. Millennium hand and shrimp!' ;He doesn't clean his teeth properly, either,' said Sacharissa. 'I mean, I'm not one of those people who think cleanliness is next to godliness, but there are limits.'*
Dibbler shook his head sadly. 'I'm losin' my touch,' he said. 'Imagine - me, working for someone? I must've been mad. It's the cold weather getting to me, that's what it is. Even... wages,' he said the word with a shudder, 'looked attractive. D'you know,' he added, in a horrified voice, 'he was telling me what to do? Next time I'll have a quiet lie-down until the feeling goes away.'
'You are an immoral opportunist, Mr Dibbler,' said William.
'It's worked so far.'
'Can you sell some advertising for us?' said Sacharissa.
'I'm not going to work for anyone ag--'