Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett [146]
“How do you know that?” said Polly. “They haven’t discussed it!”
“Not yet. But, as I told you…I used to be a sergeant. Angua!”
The door opened. Angua came in. As Vimes had said, you couldn’t tell who was a werewolf until you found out…
“And now I’d better have a shave before I go to see the very important men,” said Vimes. “People set a lot of store by shaving.”
Polly felt embarrassed walking down the steps with Sergeant Angua. How did you start a conversation? “So you’re a werewolf, then?” would be sort of idiotic. She was glad that Jade and Maladicta had been left in the waiting room.
“Yes, I am,” said Angua.
“But I didn’t say it!” Polly burst out.
“No, but I’m used to situations like this. I’ve learned to recognize the way people don’t say things. Don’t worry.”
“You followed us,” said Polly.
“Yes.”
“So you must’ve known we weren’t men.”
“Oh, yes,” said Angua. “My sense of smell is much better than my eyesight, and I’ve got sharp eyes. Humans are smelly creatures. For what it’s worth, though, I wouldn’t have told Mister Vimes if I hadn’t heard you talking to one another. Anyone could have heard you, you don’t need to be a werewolf for that. Everyone’s got secrets they don’t want known. Werewolves are a bit like vampires in that way. We’re tolerated…if we’re careful.”
“That I can understand,” said Polly. So are we, she thought.
Angua stopped by a heavy, studded door. “He’s in here,” she said, producing a key and turning it in the lock. “I’ll go back and chat with the others. Come and find me when you’re ready…”
Polly stepped inside, heart pounding, and there was Paul. And there was a buzzard, on a perch by the open window.
And on the wall, where Paul was working so intensely that his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth and he hadn’t even noticed the door opening, was another buzzard, flying in the heart of the sunrise.
Right now, Polly could forgive Ankh-Morpork anything. Someone had found Paul a box of colored chalks.
What was a long day began to get longer…
She had a kind of power. They all did. People gave them space, watched them. The fighting had stopped and they were the cause and no one knew exactly why.
There were lighter moments. They might have power, but General Froc gave the orders. And General Froc might give the orders, but it was permissible to suppose that it was Sergeant Major Jackrum who anticipated them.
And perhaps that was why Shufti asked Polly and Tonker to go with her, and they were ushered into a room where a couple of guards stood on either side of a sheepish young man called Johnny who had fair hair and blue eyes and a gold earring and his trousers round his knees in case Shufti wanted to check his other distinguishing feature.
He also had a black eye.
“This the one?” said Major Clogston, who was leaning against the wall eating an apple. “The general has asked me to tell you that there will be a dowry of five hundred crowns, with the army’s compliments.”
Johnny brightened up slightly when he heard that.
Shufti gave him a long and careful look.
“No,” she said at last, turning away. “That’s not him.”
Johnny opened his mouth, and Polly snapped: “No one asked you to speak, Private!” And such was the nature of the day that he shut up.
“Oh, dear. I’m afraid he’s the only candidate,” said Clogston. “We’ve got any amount of earrings, heads of fair hair, blue eyes, Johnnies, and, surprisingly, a fair number of carbuncles. But he’s the only one with everything. Are you sure?”
“Positive,” said Shufti, still staring at the boy. “My Johnny must have been killed.”
Clogston walked over and lowered her voice.
“In that case, uh, the general did say, informally, that a marriage certificate, a ring, and a widow’s pension could be arranged,” she said.
“Can she do that?” whispered Polly.
“For one of you? Today? You’ll be amazed what can be done,” said Clogston. “Don’t think