Thud! - Terry Pratchett [36]
Carrot picked up the notebook and regarded the sketch solemnly for a moment.
“Mine sign, sir,” he said. “It means ‘The Following Dark.’ ”
“And what does that mean?”
“Er…that things are pretty bad down there, sir,” said Carrot earnestly. “Oh dear.” He put the notebook down slowly, as if half-afraid that it might explode.
“Well, there has been a murder, Captain,” Vimes pointed out.
“Yes, sir. But this might mean something worse, sir. Mine sign is a very strange phenomenon.”
“There was a sign like it over the door, only there was just one line and it was horizontal,” Vimes added.
“Oh, that’d be the Long Dark rune, sir,” said Carrot dismissively. “It’s just the symbol for a mine. Nothing to worry about.”
“But this other one is? Is it anything to do with grags sitting in a room surrounded by lighted candles?”
It was always nice to surprise Carrot, and this time he looked amazed. “How did you work that out, sir?”
“It’s only words, Captain,” said Vimes, waving a hand. “ ‘The Following Dark’ doesn’t sound good. Time to stay brightly lit, maybe? When I met them, they were surrounded by candles. I thought maybe it was some kind of ceremony.”
“Could be,” Carrot agreed, carefully. “Thank you for this, sir. I’ll go prepared.”
As Carrot reached the door, Vimes added, “One thing, Captain?”
“Yes, sir?”
Vimes didn’t look up from the sandwich, from which he was daintily separating fragments of the L and the T from the crispy B.
“Just remember you’re a copper, will you?” he said.
Sally knew something was up as soon as she got back into the locker room, in her shiny new breastplate and soup-bowl helmet. Coppers of various species were standing around trying to look nonchalant. Coppers are never any good at this at all.
They watched as she approached her locker. She opened the door, therefore, with due care. The shelf was full of garlic.
Ah. It starts, and so soon, too. Just as well she’d been prepared…
Here and there, behind her, she heard the faint coughs and throat clearings of people trying not to laugh. And there was smirking going on; a smirk makes a subtle noise if you’re listening for it.
She reached into the locker with both hands and pulled out two big fat bulbs. All eyes were on her, all coppers were motionless as she walked slowly around the room.
The reek of garlic was strong on one young constable, whose big grin was suddenly caked with nervousness at the corners. He had the look about him of the kind of fool who’d do anything for a giggle.
“Excuse me, Constable, but what is your name?” she said meekly.
“Er…Fittly, miss…”
“Are these from you?” Sally demanded. She let her canines extend just enough to notice.
“…er, only a joke, miss…”
“Nothing funny about it,” said Sally sweetly. “I like garlic. I love garlic. Don’t you?”
“Er…yeah…” said the unhappy Fittly.
“Good,” said Sally.
With a speed that made him flinch, she rammed a bulb into her mouth and bit down heavily.
The crunching was the only sound in the locker room.
And then she swallowed.
“Oh dear, where are my manners, Constable?” she said, holding out the other bulb. “This one’s yours…”
Laughter broke out around the room. Coppers are like any other mob. The table’s been turned, and this way around it’s funnier. It’s a bit of a laugh, a bit of fun. No harm done, eh?
“Come on, Fittly,” said someone. “It’s only fair. She ate hers!” And someone else, as someone always does, began to clap and urge “Eat! Eat!” Others took it up, encouraged by the fact that Fittly had gone bright red.
“Eat! eat! eat! eat! eat! eat! eat! eat! eat!eat!eat!—”
A man without an option, Fittly grabbed the bulb, forced it into his mouth, and bit