‘Really?’
‘And … his father was Beaky Littlebottom.’
Not a trace, not a smidgeon of a grin twitched anywhere. Vimes merely pushed the paper aside.
‘Well, we work for a living here, Littlebottom.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We don’t blow things up, Littlebottom.’
‘No, sir. I don’t blow everything up, sir. Some just melts.’
Vimes drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘Know anything about dead bodies?’
‘They were only mildly concussed, sir.’
Vimes sighed. ‘Listen. I know about how to be a copper. It’s mainly walking and talking. But there’s lots of things I don’t know. You find the scene of a crime and there’s some grey powder on the floor. What is it? I don’t know. But you fellows know how to mix things up in bowls and can find out. And maybe the dead person doesn’t seem to have a mark on them. Were they poisoned? It seems we need someone who knows what colour a liver is supposed to be. I want someone who can look at the ashtray and tell me what kind of cigars I smoke.’{8}
‘Pantweed’s Slim Panatellas,’ said Littlebottom automatically.
‘Good gods!’
‘You’ve left the packet on the table, sir.’
Vimes looked down. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘So sometimes it’s an easy answer. But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes we don’t even know if it was the right question.’
He stood up. ‘I can’t say I like dwarfs much, Littlebottom. But I don’t like trolls or humans either, so I suppose that’s okay. Well, you’re the only applicant. Thirty dollars a month, five dollars living-out allowance, I expect you to work to the job not the clock, there’s some mythical creature called “overtime”, only no one’s even seen its footprints, if troll officers call you a gritsucker they’re out, and if you call them rocks you’re out, we’re just one big family and, when you’ve been to a few domestic disputes, Littlebottom, I can assure you that you’ll see the resemblance, we work as a team and we’re pretty much making it up as we go along, and half the time we’re not even certain what the law is, so it can get interesting, technically you’ll rank as a corporal, only don’t go giving orders to real policemen, you’re on a month’s trial, we’ll give you some training just as soon as there’s time, now, find an iconograph and meet me on Misbegot Bridge in … damn … better make it an hour. I’ve got to see about this blasted coat of arms. Still, dead bodies seldom get deader. Sergeant Detritus!’
There was a series of creaks as something heavy moved along the corridor outside and a troll opened the door.
‘Yessir?’
‘This is Corporal Littlebottom. Corporal Cheery Littlebottom, whose father was Jolly Littlebottom. Give him his badge, swear him in, show him where everything is. Very good, Corporal?’
‘I shall try to be a credit to the uniform, sir,’ said Littlebottom.
‘Good,’ said Vimes briskly. He looked at Detritus. ‘Incidentally, Sergeant, I’ve got a report here that a troll in uniform nailed one of Chrysoprase’s henchmen to a wall by his ears last night. Know anything about that?’
The troll wrinkled its enormous forehead. ‘Does it say anything ’bout him selling bags of Slab to troll kids?’
‘No. It says he was going to read spiritual literature to his dear old mother,’ said Vimes.
‘Did Hardcore say he saw dis troll’s badge?’
‘No, but he says the troll threatened to ram it where the sun doesn’t shine,’{9} said Vimes.
Detritus nodded gravely. ‘Dat’s a long way to go just to ruin a good badge,’ he said.
‘By the way,’ said Vimes, ‘that was a lucky guess of yours, guessing that it was Hardcore.’
‘It come to me in a flash, sir,’ said Detritus. ‘I fort: what bastard who sells Slab to kids deserves bein’ nailed up by his ears, sir, and … bingo. Dis idea just formed in my head.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
Cheery Littlebottom looked from one impassive face to the other. The Watchmen’s eyes never left each other’s face, but the words seemed to come from a little distance, as though both of them were reading an invisible script.
Then Detritus shook his head slowly. ‘Musta been a impostor, sir. ’S easy to get helmets like ours. None of my trolls’d do anything like dat. Dat would be police brutality, sir.’
‘Glad to hear it. Just for the look of the thing, though, I want you to check the trolls’ lockers. The Silicon Anti-Defamation League are on to this one.’
‘Yes, sir. An’ if I find out it was one of my trolls I will be down on dat troll like a ton of rectang’lar buildin’ things, sir.’
‘Fine. Well, off you go, Littlebottom. Detritus will look after you.’
Littlebottom hesitated. This was uncanny. The man hadn’t mentioned axes, or gold. He hadn’t even said anything like ‘You can make it big in the Watch’. Littlebottom felt really unbalanced.
‘Er … I did tell you my name, didn’t I, sir?’
‘Yes. Got it down here,’ said Vimes. ‘Cheery Littlebottom. Yes?’
‘Er … yes. That’s right. Well, thank you, sir.’
Vimes listened to them go down the passage. Then he carefully shut the door and put his coat over his head so that no one would hear him laughing.
‘Cheery Littlebottom!’
Cheery ran after the troll called Detritus. The Watch House was beginning to fill up. And it was clear that the Watch dealt with all sorts of things, and that many of them involved shouting.
Two uniformed trolls were standing in front of Sergeant Colon’s high desk, with a slightly smaller troll between them. This troll was wearing a downcast expression. It was also wearing a tutu and had a small pair of gauze wings glued to its back.
‘—happen to know that trolls don’t have any tradition of a Tooth Fairy,’ Colon was saying. ‘Especially not one called’ — he looked down — ‘Clinkerbell.{10} So how about if we just call it breaking and entering without a Thieves’ Guild licence?’
‘Is racial prejudice, not letting trolls have a Tooth Fairy,’ Clinkerbell muttered.
One of the troll guards upended a sack on the desk. Various items of silverware cascaded over the paperwork.
‘And this is what you found under their pillows, was it?’ said Colon.
‘Bless dere little hearts,’ said Clinkerbell.
At the next desk a tired dwarf was arguing with a vampire. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s not murder. You’re dead already, right?’
‘He stuck them right in me!’
‘Well, I’ve been down to interview the manager and he said it was an accident. He said he’s got nothing against vampires at all. He says he was merely carrying three boxes of HB Eraser Tips and tripped over the edge of your cloak.’
‘I don’t see why I can’t work where I like!’
‘Yes, but … in a pencil factory?’
Detritus looked down at Littlebottom and grinned. ‘Welcome to life in der big city, Littlebottom,’ he said. ‘Dat’s an int’restin’ name.’
‘Is it?’
‘Most dwarfs have names like Rockheaver or Stronginthearm.’
‘Do they?’
Detritus was not one for the fine detail of relationships, but the edge in Littlebottom’s voice got through to him. ‘’S a good name, though,’ he said.
‘What’s Slab?’ said Cheery.
‘It are chloric ammonium an’ radium mixed up. It give your head a tingle but melts troll brains. Big problem in der mountains and some buggers are makin’ it here in der city and we tryin’ to lettin’ me run a’ — Detritus concentrated — ‘pub-lic a-ware-ness campaign tellin’ people what happens to buggers who sells it to kids …’ He waved a hand at a large and rather crudely done poster on the wall. It said: