Night Watch - Terry Pratchett [7]
Leggie lived down there in the crypts. As he said, he was the only one who did, and he liked the company.
Leggie was generally considered weird, but conscientiously so.
“This isn’t your idea, right?” said Fred Colon.
Leggie looked down at his feet.
“The new deacon’s a bit, well, new,” he said. “You know…keen. Making changes.”
“You told him why they’re not being dug up?” said Nobby.
“He said that’s just ancient history,” said Leggie. “He says we all have to put the past behind us.”
“An’ did you tell him he should take it up with Vetinari?” said Nobby.
“Yes, and he said he was sure his lordship was a forward-thinking man who wouldn’t cling to relics of the past,” said Leggie.
“Sounds like he is new,” said Dibbler.
“Yeah,” said Nobby. “An’ not likely to get old. It’s okay, Leggie, you can say you’ve asked us.”
The gravedigger looked relieved.
“Thanks, Nobby,” he said. “And I’d just like to say that when your time comes, gents, you’ll be on a good shelf with a view. I’ve put your names down in my ledger for them as comes after me.”
“Well, that’s, er, very kind of you, Leggie,” said Colon, wondering if it was. Because of pressures of space, bones in the crypt were stored by size, not by owner. There were rooms of ribs. There were avenues of femurs. And shelf after shelf of skulls up near the entrance, of course, because a crypt without a lot of skulls wasn’t a proper crypt at all. If some of the religions were right and there really was bodily resurrection one day, Fred mused, there was going to be an awful lot of confusion and general milling about.
“I’ve got just the spot—” Leggie began, and then stopped. He pointed angrily toward the entrance. “You know what I said about him coming up here!”
They turned. Corporal Reg Shoe, a whole bouquet of lilac tied to his helmet, was walking solemnly up the gravel path. He had a long-handled shovel over his shoulder.
“It’s only Reg,” said Fred. “He’s got a right to be here, Leggie. You know that.”
“He’s a dead man! I’m not havin’ a dead man in my cemetery!”
“It’s full of ’em, Leggie,” said Dibbler, trying to calm the man down.
“Yeah, but the rest of ’em don’t walk in and out!”
“Come on, Leggie, you act like this every year,” said Fred Colon. “He can’t help the way he was killed. Just because you’re a zombie doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. He’s a useful lad, Reg. Plus it’d be a lot neater up here if everyone looked after their plots like he does. Morning, Reg.”
Reg Shoe, gray-faced but smiling, nodded at the four of them and strolled on.
“And bringing his own shovel, too,” muttered Leggie. “It’s disgustin’!”
“I’ve always thought it was rather, you know, nice of him to do what he does,” said Fred. “You let him alone, Leggie. If you start throwing stones at him like you did the year before last, Commander Vimes’ll get to hear about it and there’ll be trouble. Be told. You’re a good man with a, a—”
“—cadaver,” said Nobby.
“—but…well, Leggie, you weren’t there,” said Colon. “That’s the start and finish of it. Reg was. That’s all there is to it, Leggie. If you weren’t there, you don’t understand. Now you just run along and count the skulls again, I know you like that. Cheerio, Leggie.”
Legitimate First watched them go as they walked away. Sergeant Colon felt he was being measured up.
“I’ve always wondered about his name,” said Nobby, turning and waving. “I mean…Legitimate?”
“Can’t blame a mother for being proud, Nobby,” said Colon.
“What else should I know today?” said Vimes, as he and Carrot shouldered their way through the streets.
“We’ve had a letter from the Black Ribboners,* sir, suggesting that it would be a great step forward for species’ harmony in the city if you’d see your way clear to—”
“They want a vampire in the Watch?”
“Yes, sir. I believe many members of the Watch Committee think that despite your stated reservations it would be a good—”
“Does it look to you as if my body is dead?”
“No, sir.”
“Then the answer’s no. What else?”
Carrot riffled through a stuffed clipboard