Terry Pratchett - Thud

He stood up. `I shall explain the situation to my fellows, commander. Incidentally, I would ask you to take me with you to Koom Valley.'

`Did I say I was going to Koom Valley?' said Vimes.

`All right,' said the grag calmly. `Let's say, then, that should the mood take you to go to Koom Valley, you will take me? I know the place, I know the history, I even know quite a lot about mine sign, especially the Major Darknesses. I may be useful.'

`You demand all that just for telling the truth?' said Vimes.

`As a matter of fact, no. J'ds hasfak 'ds': I bargain with no axe in my hand. I will tell the truth whatever you decide,' said Bashfullsson. `However, since you are not going to Koom Valley, commander, I will not press you. It was only an idle thought.'

Fun. What is it good for?

It's not pleasure, joy, delight, enjoyment or glee. It's a hollow, cruel, vicious little bastard, a word for something sought with an hilarious couple of wobbly antennae on your head and the words `I want It!' on your shirt, and it tends to leave you waking up with your face stuck to the street.

Somehow, Angua had acquired a magenta feather boa. It wasn't her. It wasn't anyone. It had just turned up. The sheer fakery of it made her more gloomy. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, and it annoyed her that she didn't know what it was.

They had ended up in Biers, as she knew they would. It was the undead bar, although it tolerated anyone who wasn't too normal.

It certainly tolerated Tawneee. She just didn't get it, did she? The reason why men never talked to her. The trouble was, thought Angua, that Nobby wasn't actually a bad ... person. As such. As far as she knew, he'd always been faithful to Miss Pushpram, which was to say that when it came to being hit with a fish and then pelted with clams, he never thought of any other girl but her. He actually had quite a romantic soul, but it was encased in what could only be called ... Nobby Nobbs.

Sally had accompanied Tawneee to the Ladies, which always came as a shock to people who hadn't seen it before. Now Angua was staring at yet another cocktail menu, painted on a board above the bar, in a very shaky script, by Igor. [1]

He'd done his best to flow with the zeitgeist - or would have done if he'd known what the word meant - but had totally failed to grasp the subtleties of the modern cocktail bar, so that the drinks on offer included:

HAVIN YOUR TEEF SMASHED IN BY A BIG STINKIN FIST

HEAD NAILED TO THE DOOR

KICK INNA FORK

LIKE BIG LUMP OF STEEL HAMMER FIN YOUR EARS

NECK BOLT

Actually, the Neck Bolt wasn't too bad, Angua had to admit.

''scuse me,' said Cheery, teetering on a bar stool, `but what was all that about Tawneee? I could see you and Sally nodding to each other!'

`That? Oh, it's the jerk syndrome: Angua remembered who she was talking to, and added: `Er ... dwarfs probably don't have that. It means ... sometimes a woman is so beautiful that any man with half a brain isn't going to think of asking her out, okay? Because it's obvious that she's far too grand for the likes of him. Are you with me?'

`I think so.'

`Well, that's Tawneee. And, for the purposes of this explanation, Nobby has not got half a brain. He's so used to women saying no

[1] Who wasn't an Igor, but was merely called one. It was best not to have fun with him on this subject, and especially not to ask him to sew your head back on.

when he asks them out that he's not afraid of being blown out. So he asks her, because he figures, why not? And she, who by now thinks there's something wrong with her, is so grateful she says okay.'

`But she likes him.'

`I know. That's where it all gets strange.'

`It's much simpler for dwarfs,' said Cheery.

`I expect it is.'

`But probably not as much fun,' said Cheery, looking crestfallen.

Tawneee was returning. Angua ordered three Neck Bolts while Cheery hopefully negotiated for a Screaming Orgasm. [1] And then, with occasional assistance from Sally, Angua explained to Tawneee the facts of ... well ... everything.

It took some while. You had to keep changing the shape of sentences to get them to fit into the currently available space in Tawneee's brain. Angua clung to the idea, though, that the girl couldn't be that stupid. She worked in a strip club, didn't she?

`I mean, why do you think men pay to watch you on stage?' she asked.

`Because I'm very good,' said Tawneee promptly. `When I was ten I got the dancer of the year award in Miss Deviante's ballet and tap class.'

`Tap-dancing?' said Sally, grinning. `Hey, why don't you try that on stage?'

Angua closed her mind to the image of Tawneee tap-dancing. The club would probably burn to the ground.

`Er, let me try this another way. .:she said. `And I'm telling you this as another woma- female. .

Tawneee listened intently, and even the way in which she looked puzzled was unfair to the rest of her sex. When Angua had finished she watched the angelic expression hopefully.

`So what you're saying, right,' said Tawneee, `is that walking out

[1] Patience is a key virtue amongst dwarfs.

with Nobby is like going into a big posh restaurant and only eating the bread roll?'

`Exactly!' said Angua. `You've got it!'

`But I never really meet men. Granny told me not to act like a floozie.'

`And you don't think that working at ' Angua began, but Sally cut in.

`Sometimes you need to flooze regularly,' she said. `Haven't you ever just gone into a bar and had a drink with a man?'

`No.'

`Right,' said Sally. She drained her glass. `I don't like these Neck Bolts. Let's go somewhere else and'- she paused -'open your mind to possibiliteesh.'

It was odd, having Sybil in Pseudopolis Yard. It had been one of the Ramkin family houses before she'd given it to the Watch. She'd been a girl there. It had been her home.

Some apprehension of this crept into the chipped and stained souls of the watchmen. Men not known for the elegance of their manners found themselves automatically wiping their feet as they came in, and respectfully removing their helmets.

They spoke differently too, slowly and hesitantly, anxiously scanning the sentence ahead for expletives to delete. Someone even found a broom and swept up, or at least moved the dirt to a less obvious place.

Upstairs, in what had been until then the cash office, Young Sam slept peacefully in a makeshift bed. One day, Vimes hoped, he would be able to tell him that on one special night he'd been guarded by four troll watchmen. They'd been off duty but volunteered to come in for this, and were just itching for some dwarfs to try anything. Sam hoped the boy would be impressed; the most other kids could hope for was angels.

Vimes had commandeered the canteen, because it had a big enough table. He'd spread out a map of the city. A lot of the rest of the planking was occupied by pages from The Koom Valley Codex.

This wasn't a game, this was a puzzle. A sort of, yes, jigsaw puzzle. And he ought to be able to do it, he reasoned, because he already had nearly all the corners.

'Ettercap Street, Money Trap Lane, Crybaby Alley, Scuttlebutt Court, The Jeebies, Pellicool Steps,' he said. `Tunnels everywhere! They were lucky to find it after only three or four. Mr Rascal must have had lodgings in half the streets in the area. Including Empirical Crescent!'

`But hwhy?' said Sir Reynold Stitched. `I mean, hwhy dig tunnels everyhwhere?'

`Tell him, Carrot,' said Vimes, drawing a line across the city.

Carrot cleared his throat. `Because they were dwarfs, sir, and deep-downers at that,' he said. `It wouldn't occur to them not to dig. And mostly it'd be just a matter of clearing out buried rooms in any case. That's a stroll to a dwarf. And they were laying rails, so they could take the spoil out anywhere they wanted.'