Guards! Guards!

Page 9

 

  “I-” Carrot began, and then remembered that, yes, one should tell the truth, even to odd people like Nobby who didnt seem to know what it was. And the truth was that he was always getting Minty in trouble, although exactly how and why was a bit of a mystery. Just about every time he left after paying calls on her at the Rocksmacker cave, he could hear her father and mother shouting at her. They were always very polite to him, but somehow merely being seen with him was enough to get Minty into trouble.

  “Yes, ” he said.

  “Ah. Often the case, ” said Nobby wisely.

  “All the time, ” said Carrot. “Just about every night, really. ”

  “Blimey, ” said Nobby, impressed. He looked down at the Protective. “Is that why they make you wear that, then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, dont worry about it, ” said Nobby. “Everyones got their little secret. Or big secret, as it might be. Even the captain. Hes only with us because he was Brung Low by a Woman. Thats what the sergeant says. Brung low. ”

  “Goodness, ” said Carrot. It sounded painful.

  “But I reckon its cos he speaks his mind. Spoke it once too often to the Patrician, I heard. Said the Thieves Guild was nothing but a pack of thieves, or something. Thats why hes with us. Dunno, really. ” He looked speculatively at the pavement and then said: “So wherere you staying, lad?”

  “Theres a lady called Mrs Palm-” Carrot began.

  Nobby choked on some smoke that went the wrong way.

  “In the Shades?” he wheezed. “Youre staying there?”

  “Oh, yes. ”

  “Every night?”

  “Well, every day, really. Yes. ”

  “And youve come here to have a man made of you?”

  “Yes!”

  “I dont think I should like to live where you come from, ” said Nobby.

  “Look, ” said Carrot, thoroughly lost, “I came because Mr Varneshi said it was the finest job in the world, upholding the law and everything. Thats right, isnt it?”

  “Well, er, ” said Nobby. "As to that. . . I mean, upholding the Law. . . I mean, once, yes, before we had all the Guilds and stuff. . . the law, sort of thing, aint really, I mean, these days, everythings more. . . oh, I dunno. Basically you just ring your bell and keep your head down.

  Nobby sighed. Then he grunted, snatched his hourglass from his belt, and peered in at the rapidly-draining sand grains. He put it back, pulled the leather muffler off his bells clapper, and shook it once or twice, not very loudly.

  “Twelve of the clock, ” he muttered, “and alls well. ”

  “And thats it, is it?” said Carrot, as the tiny echoes died away.

  “More or less. More or less. ” Nobby took a quick drag on his dog-end.

  “Just that? No moonlight chases across rooftops? No swinging on chandeliers? Nothing like that?” said Carrot.

  “Shouldnt think so, ” said Nobby fervently. “I never done anything like that. No-one ever said anything to me about that. ” He snatched a puff on the cigarette. “A man could catch his death of cold, chasing around on rooftops. I reckon Ill stick to the bell, if its all the same to you. ”

  “Can I have a go?” said Carrot.

  Nobby was feeling unbalanced. It can be the only reason why he made the mistake of wordlessly handing Carrot the bell.

  Carrot examined it for a few seconds. Then he waved it vigorously over his head.

  “Twelve oclock!” he bellowed. “And alls weeeeelllll!”

  The echoes bounced back and forth across the street and finally were overwhelmed by a horrible, thick silence. Several dogs barked somewhere in the night. A baby started crying.

  “Ssshh!” hissed Nobby.

  “Well, it is all well, isnt it?” said Carrot.

  “It wont be if you keep on ringing that bloody bell! Give it here. ”

  “I dont understand!” said Carrot. “Look, Ive got this book Mr Varneshi gave me-” He fumbled for the Laws and Ordinances.

  Nobby glanced at them, and shrugged. “Never heard of em, ” he said. “Now just shut up your row. You dont want to go making a din like that. You could attract all sorts. Come on, this way. ”

  He grabbed Carrots arm and bustled him along the street.

  “What sorts?” protested Carrot as he was pushed determinedly forward.

  “Bad sorts, ” muttered Nobby.

  “But were the Watch!”

  “Damn right! And we dont want to go tangling with people like that! Remember what happened to Gas-kin!”

  “I dont remember what happened to Gaskin!” said Carrot, totally bewildered. “Whos Gaskin?”

  “Before your time, ” mumbled Nobby. He deflated a bit. Poor bugger. Could of happened to any of us. “ He looked up and glared at Carrot. ”Now stop all this, you hear? Its getting on my nerves. Moonlight bloody chases, my bum!"

  He stalked along the street. Nobbys normal method of locomotion was a kind of sidle, and the combination of stalking and sidling at the same time created a strange effect, like a crab limping.

  “But, but, ” said Carrot, “in this book it says-”

  “I dont want to know from no book, ” growled Nobby.

  Carrot looked utterly crestfallen.

  “But its the Law-” he began.

  He was nearly terminally interrupted by an axe that whirred out of a low doorway beside him and bounced off the opposite wall. It was followed by sounds of splintering timber and breaking glass.

  “Hey, Nobby!” said Carrot urgently, “Theres a fight going on!”

  Nobby glanced at the doorway. “Ocourse there is, ” he said. “Its a dwarf bar. Worst kind. You keep out of there, kid. Them little buggers like to trip you up and then kick twelve kinds of shit out of you. You come along oNobby and hell-”

  He grabbed Carrots treetrunk arm. It was like trying to tow a building.

  Carrot had gone pale.

  “Dwarfs drinking? And fighting?” he said.

  “You bet, ” said Nobby. “All the time. And they use the kind of language I wouldnt even use to my own dear mother. You dont want to mix it with them, theyre a poisonous bunch of-dont go in there!”

  . . .

  No-one knows why dwarfs, who at home in the mountains lead quiet, orderly lives, forget it all when they move to the big city. Something comes over even the most blameless iron-ore miner and prompts him to wear chain-mail all the time, carry an axe, change his name to something like Grabthroat Shinkicker and drink himself into surly oblivion.

  Its probably because they do live such quiet and orderly lives back home. After all, probably the first thing a young dwarf wants to do when he hits the big city after seventy years of working for his father at the bottom of a pit is have a big drink and then hit someone.

  The fight was one of those enjoyable dwarfish fights with about a hundred participants and one hundred and fifty alliances. The screams, oaths and the ringing of axes on iron helmets mingled with the sounds of a drunken group by the fireplace who-another dwarfish custom-were singing about gold.

  Nobby bumped into the back of Carrot, who was watching the scene with horror.

  “Look, its like this every night in here, ” said Nobby. “Dont interfere, thats what the sergeant says. Its their ethnic folkways, or somethin. You dont go messin with ethnic folkways. ”

  “But, but, ” Carrot stuttered, “these are my people. Sort of. Its shameful, acting like this. What must everyone think?”

  “We think theyre mean little buggers, ” said Nobby. “Now, come on!”

  But Carrot had waded into the scuffling mass. He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed something in a language Nobby didnt understand. Practically any language including his native one would have fitted that description, but in this case it was Dwarfish.

  “Grduzk! Grduzk! aaKzt ezem ke burk tze tzim?”[7]

  The fighting stopped. A hundred bearded faces glared up at Carrots stooped figu
re, their annoyance mingled with surprise.

  A battered tankard bounced off his breastplate. Carrot reached down and picked up a struggling figure, without apparent effort.

  “Juk, ydtruz-trud-eztuza, hudrzddezek drezhuk, huzukruk t b tduz g ke k me ek b tduzt be tk kce drutk kehktd. aaDbthuk?”[8]

  No dwarf had ever heard so many Old Tongue words from the mouth of anyone over four feet high. They were astonished.

  Carrot lowered the offending dwarf to the floor. There were tears in his eyes.

  “Youre dwarfs!” he said. “Dwarfs shouldnt be acting like this! Look at you all. Arent you ashamed?”

  One hundred bone-hard jaws dropped.

  “I mean, look at you!” Carrot shook his head. “Can you imagine what your poor, white-bearded old mother, slaving away back in her little hole, wondering how her son is getting on tonight, can you imagine what shed think if she saw you now? Your own dear mothers, who first showed you how to use a pickaxe-”

  Nobby, standing by the doorway in terror and amazement, was aware of a growing chorus of nose-blowings and muffled sobs as Carrot went on: “-shes probably thinking, I expect hes having a quiet game of dominoes or something-”

  A nearby dwarf, wearing a helmet encrusted with six-inch spikes, started to cry gently into his beer.

  “And I bet its a long time since any of you wrote her a letter, too, and you promised to write every week-”

  Nobby absent-mindedly took out a grubby handkerchief and passed it to a dwarf who was leaning against the wall, shaking with grief.

  “Now, then, ” said Carrot kindly. “I dont want to be hard on anyone, but I shall be coming past here every night from now on and I shall expect to see proper standards of dwarf behaviour. I know what its like when youre far from home, but theres no excuse for this sort of thing. ” He touched his helmet. “Ghruk, tuk. ”[9]

  He gave them all a bright smile and half-walked, half-crouched out of the bar. As he emerged into the street Nobby tapped him on the arm.

  “Dont you ever do anything like that to me again, ” he fumed. “Youre in the City Watch! Dont give me any more of this law business!”

  “But it is very important, ” said Carrot seriously, trotting after Nobby as he sidled into a narrower street.

  “Not as important as stay in in one piece, ” said Nobby. “Dwarf bars! If youve got any sense, my lad, youll come in here. And shut up. ”

  Carrot stared up at the building they had reached. It was set back a little from the mud of the street. The sounds of considerable drinking were coming from inside. A battered sign hung over the door. It showed a drum.

  “A tavern, is it?” said Carrot, thoughtfully. “Open at this hour?”

  “Dont see why not, ” said Nobby, pushing open the door. “Damn useful idea. The Mended Drum. ”

  “And more drinking?” Carrot thumbed hastily through the book.

  “I hope so, ” said Nobby. He nodded to the troll which was employed by the Drum as a splatter, [10] “Eve-nin, Detritus. Just showing the new lad the ropes. ”

  The troll grunted, and waved a crusted arm.