Terry Pratchett - The Fifth Elephant

'Your exthellenthy?'

'You're... Igor, right?'

'Amathing gueth, thur. We haven't met before, but I work for Doctor Thaumic on the other thide of the mountain, and thith ith my thon, Igor.' He smacked the young man around the back of his head. 'Thay hello to hith grathe, Igor!'

'I don't believe in the peerage,' said young Igor, sulkily. 'Nor shall I call any man marthter.'

'Thee?' said his father. 'Thorry about thith, your grathe, but thith ith the younger generation for you. I hope you can find a job for him in the big thity, 'coth he'th totally unemployable in Uberwald. But he'th a very good thurgeon, even if—he doeth have funny ideath. He'th got hith grandfather'th handth, you know.'

'I can see the scars,' said Vimes.

'Lucky little devil, they thould have been mine by rightth, but he wath old enough to go into the lottery.'

' You want to join the Watch, Igor?' said Vimes.

'Yes, sir. I believe Ankh-Morpork is where the future lies, thur.'

His father leaned closer to Vimes. 'We don't menthion hith thlight thpeech impediment, marthter,' he whispered. 'Of courthe, it countth againtht him here, you know, in the Igor buthineth, but I'm thure people will be kind to him in Ankh-Morpork.'

'Yes, indeed,' said Vimes, removing his handkerchief and absentmindedly dabbing his ear. 'And, er... this rabbit?'

'He's Eerie, thur,' said young Igor.

'Good name. Good name. Is that why he's got human ears all over his back?'

'Early experiment, thur.'

'And, er, the noses?'

There were about a dozen of them in a large screwtop pickle jar. And they were... just noses. Not cut off anyone, as far as Vimes could see. They had little legs and were jumping hopefully up and down against the glass, like puppies in a pet shop window. He thought he could hear faint 'wheel' noises.

'The wave of the future, thur,' said young Igor. 'I grow them in special vats. I can do eyes and fingers, too!'

'But they've got little legs!'

'Oh, they wither off in a few hours after they're attached, thur. And they want to be useful, my little noses. Bio-artificing for the next century, thur. None of that outmoded cutting up of old bodies—'

His father smacked his head again. 'You thee? You thee? Where'th the point in that? Wathtrel! I hope you can do thomething with him, marthter, becauthe I've jutht about given up! Not worth breaking down for thpareth, ath we thay!'

Vimes sighed. Still, losing small extremities was a daily hazard in the Watch and the lad was, after all, an Igor. It wasn't as if there were any normal people in the Watch. He could afford to put up with a nose-breeder in exchange for surgery that didn't involve screaming and buckets of boiling pitch.

He indicated a box beside the young man. It was growling and rocking from side to side.

'You haven't got a dog too, have you?' he said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

'That's my tomatoes,' said young Igor. 'A triumph of modern igoring. They grow enormously.'

'Only becauthe they vithiouthly attack all other vegetableth!' said his father. 'But I'll thay thith for the lad, marthter, I've never known anyone like him for really tiny thtitching.'

'All right, all right, he sounds the man I'm looking for,' said Vimes. 'Or close, at least. Take a seat, young man. I just hope there's going to be room in the coaches...'

The door to the yard swung open, blowing in a few snowflakes and Carrot, who stamped his feet.

'A bit of snow overnight but the road looks open,' he said. 'They say there's a really big one due tonight, though, so we—0h, good morning, sir.'

'You're fit enough to travel?'. said Vimes.

'We both are,' said Angua. She crossed the hall and stood next to Carrot.

Once again Vimes was aware of a lot of words that he hadn't heard. A wise man didn't make enquiries at a time like this. Besides, Vimes could feel the cold coming up through his feet.

He reached a decision. 'Give me your notebook, captain,' he said.

They watched him scribble a few lines.

'Stop at the clacks tower and send a message on to the Yard,' he said, handing it back to Carrot. 'Tell them you're on the way. Take young Igor here with you and get him settled in, Okay? And make a report to his lordship.'

'Er, you're not coming?' said Carrot.

'Her ladyship and I will take the other coach,' said Vimes. 'Or buy a sleigh. Very comfy things, sleighs. And we'll, we'll just take it a little easier. We'll see the sights. We'll dawdle along the way. Understand?'

He saw Angua smile and wondered if Sybil had confided in her.

'Absolutely, sir,' said Carrot.

'Oh, and, er, go along to Burleigh Fr Stronginthearm's, order a couple of dozen of everything off the top of their small arms catalogue, and get them on to the next mail coach due to Bonk for the personal attention of Captain Tantony.'

'The mail coach rate will be very expensive, sir...' Carrot began.

'I didn't want you to tell me that, captain. I wanted you to say, "Yes, sir." '

'Yes, sir.'

'And ask at the gate about... three gloomy biddies who live in a big house near here. It's got a cherry orchard. Find out the address and when you get back send them three coach tickets to Ankh-Morpork.'

'Right, sir.'

'Well done. Travel safely. I'll see you in a week. Or two. Three at the outside. All right?'

A few minutes later he stood shivering on the steps, watching the coach disappear into the crisp morning.

He felt a pang of guilt, but it was only a little pang. He gave every day to the Watch and it was time, he thought, for it to give him a week. Or two. Three at the outside.

In fact, he realized, as pangs. went it was barely a ping which was, he recalled, a dialect word for watermeadow. Right now he could see a future, which was more than he'd ever had before.

He locked the door and went back to bed.

On a clear day, from the right vantage point on the Ramtops, a watcher could see a very long way across the plains.

The dwarfs had harnessed mountain streams and built a staircase of locks that rose a mile up from the rolling grasslands, for the use of which they charged not just a pretty penny but a very handsome dollar. Barges were always ascending or descending, making their way down to the river Smarl and the cities of the plain. They carried coal, iron, fireclay, pig treacle and fat, the dull ingredients of the pudding of civilization.

In the sharp, thin air they took several days to get out of sight. On a clear day, you could see next Wednesday.

The captain of one of the barges waiting for the top lock went to tip the dregs of his teapot over the side and saw a small dog sitting on the snowy bank. It sat up and begged, hopefully.

He turned to go back into the cabin when he thought: what a nice little doggie.

It was such a clear thought that it almost seemed to him that he had heard it, but he looked around and there was no one else near him. And dogs certainly couldn't talk.

He heard himself think: 'This little doggie would be very useful keepin' down rats that might attack the cargo, sort of frog.'

It must have been his thought, he decided. There was no one else nearby, and everyone knew dogs didn't talk.

He said aloud, 'But rats don't eat coal, do they?'

He thought, clear as day: 'Ah, well, you never know when they might try, right? Anyway, it's such a sweet-looking little doggie that's been strugglin' for days through deep snow, huh, not that anyone cares.'

The bargeman gave up. There's only so long you can argue with yourself.

Ten minutes later the barge was on the long drop to the plains, with a small dog sitting at the prow, enjoying the breeze.

On the whole, thought Gaspode, it was always best to look to the future.