Men at Arms - Terry Pratchett [31]
“What gets me is that he was murdered,” said Carrot.
Mr. Cheese passed along the line again. They stared at the drinks. They drank the drinks.
Because the fact was that, despite all evidence to the contrary, murder was not a commonplace occurrence in Ankh-Morpork. There were, it was true, assassinations. And as aforesaid there were many ways one could inadvertently commit suicide. And there were occasional domestic fracas on a Saturday night as people sought a cheaper alternative to divorce. There were all these things, but at least they had a reason, however unreasonable.
“Big man in the dwarfs, was Mr. Hammerhock,” said Carrot. “A good citizen, too. Wasn’t always stirring up old trouble like Mr. Stronginthearm.”
“He’s got a workshop in Rime Street,” said Nobby.
“Had,” said Sergeant Colon.
They stared at the drinks. They drank the drinks.
“What I want to know is,” said Angua, “what put that hole in him?”
“Never see anything like that,” said Colon.
“Hadn’t someone better go and tell Mrs. Hammerhock?” said Angua.
“Captain Vimes is doing it,” said Carrot. “He said he wouldn’t ask anyone else to do it.”
“Rather him than me,” said Colon fervently. “I wouldn’t do that for a big clock. They can be fearsome when they’re angry, those little buggers.”
Everyone nodded gloomily, including the little bugger and the bigger little bugger by adoption.
They stared at the drinks. They drank the drinks.
“Shouldn’t we be finding out who did it?” said Angua.
“Why?” said Nobby.
She opened and shut her mouth once or twice, and finally came out with: “In case they do it again?”
“It wasn’t an assassination, was it?” said Cuddy.
“No,” said Carrot. “They always leave a note. By law.”
They looked at the drinks. They drank the drinks.
“What a city,” said Angua.
“It all works, that’s the funny thing,” said Carrot. “D’you know, when I first joined the Watch I was so simple I arrested the head of the Thieves’ Guild for thieving?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Angua.
“Got into a bit of trouble for that,” said Carrot.
“You see,” said Colon, “thieves are organized here. I mean, it’s official. They’re allowed a certain amount of thieving. Not that they do much these days, mind you. If you pay them a little premium every year they give you a card and leave you alone. Saves time and effort all around.”
“And all thieves are members?” said Angua.
“Oh, yes,” said Carrot. “Can’t go thieving in Ankh-Morpork without a Guild permit. Not unless you’ve got a special talent.”
“Why? What happens? What talent?” she said.
“Well, like being able to survive being hung upside down from one of the gates with your ears nailed to your knees,” said Carrot.
Then Angua said: “That’s terrible.”
“Yes, I know. But the thing is,” said Carrot, “the thing is: it works. The whole thing. Guilds and organized crimes and everything. It all seems to work.”
“Didn’t work for Mr. Hammerhock,” said Sergeant Colon.
They looked at their drinks. Very slowly, like a mighty sequoia beginning the first step towards resurrection as a million Save The Trees leaflets, Detritus toppled backward with his mug still in his hand. Apart from the 90° change in position, he didn’t move a muscle.
“It’s the sulphur,” said Cuddy, without looking around. “It goes right to their heads.”
Carrot thumped his fist on the bar.
“We ought to do something!”
“We could nick his boots,” said Nobby.
“I mean about Mr. Hammerhock.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah,” said Nobby. “You sound like old Vimesy. If we was to worry about every dead body in this town—”
“But not like this!” snapped Carrot. “Normally it’s just…well…suicide, or Guild fighting, stuff like that. But he was just a dwarf! Pillar of the community! Spent all day making swords and axes and burial weapons and crossbows and torture implements! And then he’s in the river with a great big hole in his chest! Who’s going to do anything about it, if not us?”
“You been putting anything in your milk?” said Colon. “Look, the dwarfs can sort it out. It’s like Quarry Lane. Don’t stick your nose where someone can pull it off and eat it.”
“We’re the City Watch,