The Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett [32]
“I can see this is going to get on top of me,” said Colon, as they walked away. “There’s paperwork, too. You know me and paperwork, Nobby.”
“You’re a very thorough reader, that’s all, Fred,” said Nobby. “I’ve seen you take ages over just one page. Digesting it magisterially, I thought.”
Colon brightened a little. “Yes, that’s what I do,” he said.
“Even if it’s only the menu down at the Klatchian takeout, I’ve seen you staring at one line for a minute at a time.”
“Well, obviously you can’t let people put one over on you,” said Colon, sticking out his chest, or at least sticking it further up.
“What you need is an aide de camp,” said Nobby, lifting his dress to step over a puddle.
“I do?”
“Oh yes. ’Cos of you being a figurehead and setting an example to your men,” said Nobby.
“Ah. Right. Yes,” said Colon, grasping the idea with relief. “A man can’t be expected to do all that and read long words, am I right?”
“Exactly. And, of course, we’re down one sergeant at the Yard now,” said Nobby.
“Good point, Nobby. It’s going to be busy.”
They walked on for a while.
“You could promote someone,” Nobby prompted.
“Could I?”
“What good’s being the boss if you can’t?”
“That’s true. And it’s sort of an emergency…Hmm…any thoughts, Nobby?”
Nobby sighed inwardly. A penny could drop through wet cement faster than it could drop for Fred Colon.
“A name springs to mind,” he said.
“Ah, right. Yes. Reg Shoe, right? Good at writing, a keen thinker, and of course he’s coolheaded,” said Colon. “Icy, practically.”
“But a bit on the dead side,” said Nobby.
“Yes, I suppose that counts against him.”
“And he goes to pieces unpredictably,” said Nobby.
“That’s true,” said Captain Colon. “No one likes shaking hands and ending up with more fingers than they started with.”
“So p’raps it might be better to consider someone who has been unreasonably overlooked,” said Nobby, going for broke. “Someone who’s face dunt fit, p’raps. Someone who’s experience in the Watch gen’rally and in Traffic in particular could be great service to the city if people wouldn’t go on about one or two lapses which didn’t happen in any case.”
The dawn of intelligence rose across the vistas of Colon’s face.
“Ah,” he said. “I see. Well, why didn’t you come right out with that at the start, Nobby.”
“Well, it’s your decision, Fred…I mean, Captain,” said Nobby earnestly.
“But ’sposing Mister Vimes doesn’t agree? He’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”
“That’ll be long enough,” said Nobby.
“And you don’t mind?”
“Me? Mind? Not me. You know me, Fred, always ready to do my bit.”
“Nobby?”
“Yes, Fred?”
“The dress…”
“Yes, Fred?”
“I thought we weren’t doing the…traffic calming any more?”
“Yes, Fred. But I thought I’m keep it on ready to swing into action just in case you decided that we should.”
A chilly wind blew across the cabbage fields.
To Gaspode it brought, beside the overpowering fumes of the cabbage and the dark red smell of the dung carts, hints of pine, mountains, snow, sweat and stale cigar smoke. The last came from the cart men’s habit of smoking large, cheap cigars. They kept the flies off.
It was better than vision. The world of smell stretched before Gaspode.
“My paws hurt,” he said.
“There’s a good dog,” said Carrot.
The road forked. Gaspode stopped, and snuffled around.
“Well, here’s an int’resting fing,” he said. “Some of the dung’s jumped down off’f the cart and headed away across the fields here. You were right.”
“Can you smell water anywhere around?” said Carrot, scanning the flat plain.
Gaspode’s mottled nose wrinkled up in effort.
“Pond,” he said. “Not very big. ’Bout a mile away.”
“She’ll be heading toward it. Very meticulous about cleanliness, Angua. That’s not usual in werewolves.”
“Never been one for water myself,” said Gaspode.
“Is that a fact?”
“Here, no need for that! I had a B…A…T…H once, you know, it’s not as if I don’t know what it’s like.”
The pond was in a clump of windblown trees. Dry grass rustled in the breeze. A single coot