Night Watch - Terry Pratchett [74]
“Hmm. There are plenty of different surfaces, that’s true, but…”
“You’re always so solemn about these things, Havelock. Not at all like your late father. Think…mythologically. He can read the street. He can hear its voice, take its temperature, read its mind, it talks to him through his boots. Policemen are just as superstitious as other people. Every other Watch House was attacked tonight. Oh, Swing’s people egged it on, but it was malice and stupidity that did the most damage. But not in Treacle Mine Road. No. Keel opened the doors and let the street inside. I wish I knew more about him. I’m told that in Pseudopolis he was considered to be slow, thoughtful, sensible. He certainly seems to have bloomed here.”
“I inhumed a man who attempted to nip him in the bud.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like Swing. How much do I owe you?”
The young man called Havelock gave a shrug. “Call it a dollar,” he said.
“That’s very cheap.”
“He wasn’t worth more. I should warn you, though. Soon you may want me to deal with Keel.”
“Surely someone like him wouldn’t side with people like Winder and Swing?”
“He’s a side all by himself. He is a complication. You may think it best if he…ceased to complicate.”
The rattling of the coach underlined the silence this remark caused. It was moving through a richer part of the city now, where there was more light and the curfew, being for poorer people, was less rigorously observed. The figure opposite the Assassin stroked the cat on her lap.
“No. He’ll serve some purpose,” said Madam. “Everyone is telling me about Keel. In a world where we all move in curves he proceeds in a straight line. And going straight in a world of curves makes things happen.”
She stroked the cat. It yowled softly. It was ginger and had an expression of astonishing smugness, although periodically it scratched at its collar.
“On a different subject,” she said. “What was that business with the book? I did not like to take too much notice.”
“Oh, it was an extremely rare volume I was able to track down. On the nature of concealment.”
“That stupid hulk of a boy burned it!”
“Yes. That was a piece of luck. I was afraid he might try to read it, although,” Havelock smiled wanly, “someone would have had to help him with the longer words.”
“Was it valuable?”
“Priceless. Especially now that it has been destroyed.”
“Ah. It contained information of value. Possibly involving the color dark green. Will you tell me?”
“I could tell you.” Havelock smiled again. “But then I would have to find someone to pay me to kill you.”
“Then don’t tell me. But I do think Dog-Botherer is an unpleasant nickname.”
“When your name is Vetinari, Madam, you’re happy enough if it’s merely Dog-Botherer. Can you drop me off a little way from the Guild, please? I’ll go in via the roof. I have a tiger to attend to before I go up to…you know.”
“A tiger. How exciting.” She stroked the cat again. “You’ve found your way in yet?”
Vetinari shrugged. “I’ve known my way for years, Madam. But now he has half a regiment around the palace, with irregular patrols and spot checks. I can’t get through them. Only let me get inside, please, and the men there are no problem.”
The cat pawed at its collar.
“Is it possible that he is allergic to diamonds?” said Madam. She held up the cat. “Is oo allergic to diamonds, den?”
Havelock sighed, but inwardly, because he respected his aunt. He just wished she was a bit more sensible about cats. He felt instinctively that if you were going to fondle a cat while discussing matters of intrigue, then it should be a long-haired white one. It shouldn’t be an elderly street tom with irregular bouts of flatulence.
“What about the sergeant?” he said, shifting along the seat as politely as possible.
The lady all in lilac lowered the cat gently onto the seat. There was a distressing smell.
“I think I should meet Mr. Keel as soon as possible,” she said. “Perhaps he can be harnessed. The party is tomorrow night. Uh…do you mind opening the window?”
A little later that