'Right. You stick with me and you won't go far wrong.'

'Bugrit.'

'Really? Well, I s'pose that'll have to do. Bark, bark.'

Twelve people lived under the Misbegot Bridge and in a life of luxury, although luxury is not hard to achieve when you define it as something to eat at least once a day and especially when you have such a broad definition of 'something to eat'. Technically they were beggars, although they seldom had to beg. Possibly they were thieves, although they only took what had been thrown away, usually by people hurrying to be out of their presence.

Outsiders considered that the leader of the group was Coffin Henry, who would have been the city's champion expectorator if anyone else had wanted the title. But the group had the true democracy of the voteless. There was Arnold Sideways, whose lack of legs only served to give him an extra advantage in any pub fight, where a man with good teeth at groin height had it all his own way. And if it wasn't for the duck whose presence on his head he consistently denied, the Duck Man would have been viewed as well-spoken and educated and as sane as the next man. Unfortunately, the next man was Foul Ole Ron.

The other eight people were Altogether Andrews.

Altogether Andrews was one man with considerably more than one mind. In a rest state, when he had no particular problem to confront, there was no sign of this except a sort of background twitch and flicker as his features passed randomly under the control of, variously, Jossi, Lady Hermione, Little Sidney, Mr Viddle, Curly, the Judge and Tinker; there was also Burke, but the crew had only ever seen Burke once and never wanted to again, so the other seven personalities kept him buried. Nobody in the body answered to the name of Andrews. In the opinion of the Duck Man, who was probably the best in the crew at thinking in a straight line, Andrews had probably been some innocent and hospitable person of a psychic disposition who had simply been overwhelmed by the colonizing souls.

Only among the gentle crew under the bridge could a consensus person like Andrews find an accommodating niche. They'd welcomed him, or them, to the fraternity around the smoky fire. Someone who wasn't the same person for more than five minutes at a time could fit right in.

One other thing that united the crew - although probably nothing could unite Altogether Andrews - was a readiness to believe that a dog could talk. The group around the smouldering fire believed they had heard a lot of things talk, such as walls. A dog was easy by comparison. Besides, they respected the fact that Gaspode had the sharpest mind of the lot and never drank anything that corroded the container.

'Let's try this again, shall we?' he said. 'If you sell thirty of the things, you'll get a dollar. A whole dollar. Got that?'

'Bugrit.'

'Quack.'

'Haaargghhh... gak!'

'How much is that in old boots?'

Gaspode sighed. 'No, Arnold. You can use the money to buy as many old--'

There was a rumble from Altogether Andrews, and the rest of the crew went very still. When Altogether Andrews was quiet for a while you never knew who he was going to be.

There was always the possibility that it would be Burke.

'Can I ask a question?' said Altogether Andrews, in a rather hoarse treble.

The crew relaxed. That sounded like Lady Hermione. She wasn't a problem.

'Yes... your ladyship?' said Gaspode.

'This wouldn't be... work, would it?'

The mention of the word sent the rest of the crew into a fugue of stress and bewildered panic.

'Haaaruk... gak!'

'Bugrit!'

'Quack!'

'No, no, no,' said Gaspode hurriedly. 'It's hardly work, is it? Just handing out stuff and takin' money? Doesn't sound like work to me.'

'I ain't working!' shouted Coffin Henry. I am socially inadequate in the whole area of doin' anything!'

'We do not work,' said Arnold Sideways. 'We is gentlemen of les-u-are.'

'Ahem,' said Lady Hermione.

'Gentlemen and ladies of les-u-are,' said Arnold gallantly.

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net