The Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett [62]
“What can you do?” said Carrot. “If even your parents can’t control him—”
“We used to fight when we were younger. ‘Rough and tumble,’ he’d call it. But I could send him off howling. Wolfgang hates to think there’s anyone who can beat him, so I don’t think he’ll relish the thought of me turning up. He’s got plans. This part of Uberwald has always, well, worked because no one was too powerful, but if the dwarfs start squabbling among themselves then Wolfgang’s the lad to take advantage, with his stupid uniforms and his stupid flag.”
“I don’t think I want to see you fighting, though.”
“Then you can look the other way! I didn’t ask you to follow me! Do you think I’m proud of this? I’ve got a brother who’s a sheepdog!”
“A champion sheepdog,” said Carrot earnestly.
Gaspode watched Angua’s expression. It was one you’d never get on a dog.
“You mean that,” she said at last. “You actually mean that, don’t you…you really do. And if you’d met him it wouldn’t worry you, would it? To you everyone’s a person. I have to sleep in a dog basket seven nights a month and that doesn’t worry you either, does it?”
“No. You know it doesn’t.”
“It should! Don’t ask me why, but it should! You’re so…unthinkingly nice about it! And sooner or later a girl can have too much nice!”
“I don’t try to be nice…”
“I know. I know. I just wish you’d…oh, I don’t know…complain a bit. Well, not exactly complain. Just sigh, or something.”
“Why?”
“Because…oh, because it’d make me feel better! Oh, it’s too hard to explain. It’s probably a werewolf thing.”
“I’m sorry—”
“And don’t be sorry all the time, either!”
Gaspode curled up so close to the fire that he steamed. Dogs had it down a lot better, he decided.
The building that was to be the embassy was set back from the road on a quiet side street. They rattled under an arch into a small rear courtyard containing some stables. It reminded Vimes of a large coaching inn.
“It’s really only a consulate at the moment,” said Inigo, leafing through his papers. “We should be met by…ah, yes, Wando Sleeps. Been here for several years, mhm.”
Behind the coaches a pair of gates were swung shut. There was the sound of heavy bolts shooting home. Vimes stared at the apparition that came limping back toward the coach door.
“He looks it,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t think this is—”
“Good evening, marthterth, mithtreth…” said the figure. “Welcome to Ankh-Morpork. I’m Igor.”
“Igor who?” said Inigo.
“Jutht Igor, thir. Alwayth…jutht Igor,” said Igor calmly, unfolding the step. “I’m the odd-job man.”
“You don’t say?” said Vimes, mesmerized.
“Have you had a terrible accident?” said Lady Sybil.
“I did thpill tea down my thirt thith morning,” said Igor. “Kind of you to notice.”
“Where’s Mister Sleeps?” said Inigo.
“I’m afraid Marthter Thleeps ith nowhere to be found. I wath rather hoping you would know what’d happened to him.”
“Us?” said Inigo. “Mhm, mmm! We assumed he was here!”
“He left rather urgently two weeks ago,” said Igor. “He did not vouchthafe to me where he wath going. Do go inthide, and I will thee to the baggage.”
Vimes glanced up. A little bit of snow was falling now, but there was enough light to see that, across the whole courtyard, was an iron mesh. With the bolted doors and the walls of the building all around, they were in a cage.
“Jutht a little leftover from the old dayth,” said Igor cheerfully. “Nothing to worry about, thir.”
“What a fine figure of a man,” said Sybil weakly, as they stepped inside.
“More than one man,