‘Thank you.’
His son said something in Klatchian. There was a brief family argument.
‘I appreciate your strength of feeling,’ said Carrot, going red, ‘although I must say I think your language was a little strong.’
‘My son is sorry,’ said Goriff automatically. ‘He did not remember that you speak Kl—’
‘No, I’m not! Why should we run away?’ said the boy. ‘We live here! I’ve never seen Klatch!’
‘Oh, well, that will be something to look forward to,’ said Carrot. ‘I hear it has many fine—’
‘Are you stupid?’ said Janil. He shook himself free of his father’s grasp and confronted Carrot. ‘I don’t care! I don’t want all this stuff about the moon rising over the Mountains of the Sun!{57} I get that at home all the time! I live here!’
‘Now, you really ought to listen to your parents—’
‘Why? My dad works all the time and now he’s being pushed out! What good’s that? We ought to stay here and defend what’s ours!’
‘Ah, well, you shouldn’t take the law into your own hands—’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s our job—’
‘But you’re not doing it!’
There was a rattle of Klatchian from Mr Goriff.
‘He says I’ve got to apologize,’ said Janil sullenly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I,’ said Carrot.
The boy’s father gave him that complicated shrug used by adults in a situation involving adolescents.
‘You’ll be back, I know it,’ said Carrot.
‘We shall see.’
They went down the quay towards a waiting boat. It was a Klatchian ship. People lined the rails, people who were getting out with what they could carry before they could only get out with what they wore. The watchmen found themselves under hostile scrutiny.
‘Surely Rust isn’t already forcing Klatchians out of their homes?’ said Angua.
‘We can tell which way the wind is blowing,’ said Goriff calmly.
Carrot sniffed the salt air. ‘It’s blowing from Klatch,’ he said.
‘For you, perhaps,’ said Goriff.
A whip cracked behind them and they stood aside as several coaches rumbled by. A blind at the window was pulled aside momentarily. Carrot caught a brief glimpse of a face, all gold teeth and black beard, before the cloth twitched back.
‘That’s him, isn’t it?’
There was a faint grunt from Angua. She had her eyes closed, as she always did when she was letting her nose do the seeing…
‘Cloves,’ she murmured, and then grabbed Carrot’s arm.
‘Don’t run after it! There’s armed men on that ship! What will they think when they see a soldier running towards them?’
‘I’m not a soldier!’
‘How long do you think they’ll spend working out the difference?’
The coach pushed through the press of people on the dock. The crowd surged back around it.
‘There’s boxes being unloaded — I can’t quite see…’ said Carrot, shading his eyes. ‘Look, I’m sure they’ll understand if—’
71-hour Ahmed stepped out on to the dock and looked back towards the watchmen. There was a momentary sparkle as he grinned. They saw his hand reach over his shoulder and come back holding the curved sword.
‘I can’t just let him get away,’ said Carrot. ‘He’s a suspect! Look, he’s laughing at us!’
‘With diplomatic impunity,’ said Angua. ‘But there’s a lot of armed men down there.’
‘My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure,’{58} said Carrot.
‘Really? Well, there’s eleven of them.’
71-hour Ahmed threw his sword in the air. It spun a couple of times, making a whum-whum noise, and then his hand shot out and caught it by the handle as it fell.
‘That’s what Mr Vimes was doing,’ said Carrot, through gritted teeth. ‘Now he’s taunting us—’
‘You will be killed if you go on the ship,’ said Goriff behind him. ‘I know that man.’
‘You do? How?’
‘He is feared in the whole of Klatch. That is 71-hour Ahmed!’
‘Yes, why is—’
‘You haven’t heard of him? And he is a D’reg!’ Mrs Goriff pulled at her husband’s arm.
‘D’reg?’ said Angua.
‘A warlike desert tribe,’ said Carrot. ‘Very fierce. Honourable, though. They say that if a D’reg is your friend he’s your friend for the rest of your life.’
‘And if he’s not your friend?’
‘That’s about five seconds.’
He drew his sword. ‘Nevertheless,’ he added, ‘we can’t let—’
‘I have said too much. We must go,’ said Goriff. The family picked up their bundles.
‘Look, there might be another way to find out about him,’ said Angua. She pointed at the carriage.
A couple of lean, long-haired and extremely graceful dogs had been let out and were straining at their leashes as they led the way up the gangplank.
‘Klatchistan hunting dogs,’ she said. ‘The Klatchian nobility are very keen on them, I understand.’
‘They look a bit like—’ Carrot began, and then the penny dropped. ‘No, I can’t let you go on there by yourself,’ he said. ‘Something would go wrong.’
‘I stand a much better chance than you would, believe me,’ said Angua quickly. ‘They won’t be leaving until the tide changes, in any case.’
‘It’s too dangerous.’
‘Well, they are supposed to be our enemies.’
‘I meant for you!’
‘Why?’ said Angua. ‘I’ve never heard of werewolves in Klatch, so they probably don’t know how to deal with us.’
She undid the little leather collar that held her badge and handed it to Carrot.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘If the worst comes to the worst, I’ll dive overboard.’
‘Into the river?’
‘Even the river Ankh can’t kill a werewolf.’ Angua glanced at the turgid water. ‘Probably, anyway.’
Sergeant Colon and Corporal Nobbs had gone on patrol. They weren’t sure why they were patrolling, and what they were supposed to do if they saw a crime, although many years of training had enabled them not to see some quite large crimes. But they were creatures of habit. They were watchmen, so they patrolled. They didn’t patrol with a purpose. They patrolled, as it were, in pure essence. Nobby’s progress wasn’t helped by the large, leather-bound book in his arms.
‘A war’d do this place good,’ said Sergeant Colon, after a while. ‘Put some backbone in people. Everything’s gone all to pot these days.’
‘Not like when we were kids, sarge.’
‘Not like when we were kids indeed, Nobby.’
‘People trusted one another in them days, didn’t they, sarge?’
‘People trusted one another, Nobby.’
‘Yes, sarge. I know. And people didn’t have to lock their doors, did they?’
‘That’s right, Nobby. And people were always ready to help. They were always in and out of one another’s houses.’
‘’sright, sarge,’ said Nobby vehemently. ‘I know no one ever locked their houses down our street.’
‘That’s what I’m talking about. That’s my point.’
‘It was ’cos the bastards even used to steal the locks.’
Colon considered the truth of this.
‘Yes, but at least it was each other’s stuff they were nicking, Nobby. It’s not like they was foreigners.’
‘Right.’
They strolled on for a while, each entangled in his own thoughts.