'Doodahs?' he said.
'You know,' said Angalo. 'Droppings.' Masklin nodded. 'They fall for that, do they?' he said doubtfully.
'They're very stupid, I told you.' The boy walked around Masklin. 'You must come and see my father,' he said. 'Of course, it's a foregone conclusion that you'll join the Haberdasheri.' Masklin looked at the tribe. They had spread out among the food stalls. Torrit had a lump of cheese as big as his head, Granny Morkie was investigating a banana as if it might explode, and even Grimma wasn't paying him any attention.
Masklin felt lost. What he was good at, he knew, was tracking a rat across several fields, bringing it down with a single spear throw, and dragging it home. He'd felt really good about that People had said things like 'Well done'.
He had a feeling that you didn't have to track a banana. 'Your father?' he said.
'The Duke de Haberdasheri,' said Angalo proudly. 'Defender of the Mezzanine and Autocrat of the Staff Canteen.' 'He's three people?' said Masklin, puzzled.
'Those are his titles. Some of them. He's nearly the most powerful nome in the Store. Do you have things like fathers Outside?' Funny thing, Masklin thought. He's a rude little twerp except when he talks about the Outside, then he's like an eager little boy.
'I had one once,' he said. He didn't want to dwell on the subject.
'I bet you had- lots of adventures!' Masklin thought about some of the things that had happened to him - or, more accurately, had nearly happened to him - recently.
'Yes,' he said.
'I bet it was tremendous fun!' Fun, Masklin thought. It wasn't a familiar word. Perhaps it referred to running through muddy ditches with hungry teeth chasing you. 'Do you hunt?' he asked.
'Rats, sometimes. In the boiler-room. Of course, we have to keep them down.' He scratched Bobo behind an ear.
'Do you eat them?' Angalo looked horrified. 'Eat rat?' Masklin stared around at the piles of food. 'No, I suppose not,' he said. 'You know, I never realized there were so many nomes in the world. How many live here?' Angalo told him.
'Two what?' said Masklin.
Angalo repeated it.
'You don't look very impressed,' he said, when Masklin's expression didn't change.
Masklin looked hard at the end of his spear. It was a piece of flint he'd found in a field one day, and he'd spent ages teasing a bit of binder twine out of the haybale in order to tie it on to a stick. Right now it seemed about the one familiar thing in a bewildering world.
'I don't know,' he said. What is a thousand?' Duke Cido de Haberdasheri, who was also Lord Protector of the Up Escalator, Defender of the Mezzanine and Knight of the Counter, turned the Thing over in his hands, very slowly. Then he tossed it aside.
'Very amusing,' he said.
The nomes stood in a confused group in the Duke's palace, which was currently under the - floorboards in the Soft Furnishings Department. The Duke was still in armour, and not very amused.
'So,' he said, 'you're from Outside, are you? Do you really expect me to believe you?' 'Father, I-' Angalo began.
'Be quiet! You know the words of Arnold Bros (est. 1905)! Everything Under One Roof. Everything! Therefore, there can be no Outside. Therefore, you people are not from it. Therefore, you're from some other part of the Store. Corsetry. Or Young Fashions, maybe. We've never really explored there.' 'No, we're-' Masklin began.
The Duke held up his hands.
'Listen to me,' he said, glaring at Masklin. 'I don't blame you. My son is an impressionable young lad. I have no doubt he talked you into it. He's altogether too fond of going to look at lorries, and he listens to silly stories and his brain gets overheated. Now I am not an unreasonable nome,' he added, daring them to disagree, 'and there is always room for a strong lad like yourself in the Haberdashen guards. So let us forget this nonsense, shall we?' 'But we really do come from outside,' Masklin persisted.
'There is no Outside!' said the Duke. 'Except of course when a good nome dies, if he has led a proper life. Then there is an Outside, where they will live in splendour for ever. Come now,' he patted Masklin on the shoulder, 'give up this foolish chatter, and help us in our valiant task.' 'Yes, but what for?' said Masklin.
'You wouldn't want the Ironmongri to take our department, would you?' said the Duke. Masklin glanced at Angalo, who shook his head urgently.
'I suppose not,' he said, 'but you're all nomes, aren't you? And there's masses for everyone. Spending all your time squabbling seems a bit silly.' Out of the corner of his eye he saw Angalo put his head in his hands.
The Duke went red.
'Silly, did you say?' Masklin leaned backwards to get out of his-way, but he'd been brought up to be honest. He felt be wasn't bright enough to get away with lies.
Well-' he began.
'Have you never heard of honour?' said the Duke. Masklin thought for a while, and then shook his head.
'The Ironmongri want to take over the whole Store,' said Angalo hurriedly. 'That would be a terrible thing. And the Millineri are nearly as bad.' 'Why?' said Masklin.
'Why?' said the Duke 'Because they have always been our enemies. And now you may go,' he added.
'Where?' said Masklin.
'To the Ironmongri, or the Millineri. Or the Stationeri, they're just the people for you. Or go back Outside, for all I care,' said the Duke sarcastically.
'We want the Thing back,' said Masklin stolidly.
The Duke picked it up and threw it at him.
'Sorry,' said Angalo, when they had got away.
'I should have told you father had rather a temper.' 'What did you go and upset him for?' said Grimma irritably. 'If we've got to- join up with someone, why not with him? What happens to us now?' 'He was very rude,' said Granny Morkie stoutly.
'He'd never heard of the Thing,' said Torrit. 'Terrible, that is. Or Outside. Well, I was borned and bred outside. Ain't no dead people there. Not living in any splendour, anyway.' They started to squabble, which was fairly usual. Masklin looked at them. Then he looked at his feet. They were walking on a sort of short dry grass that Angalo had said was called Carpet. Something else stolen from the Store above.
He wanted to say: this is ridiculous. Why is it that as soon as a nome has all he needs to eat and drink he starts to bicker with other nomes? There must be more to being a nome than this.
And he wanted to say: if humans are so stupid, how is it that they built this Store and all these lorries? If we're that clever, then they should be stealing from us, not the other way around. They might be big and slow, but they're quite bright, really.
And he wanted to add: I wouldn't be surprised if they're at least as intelligent as rats, say.
But he didn't say any of this, because while he was thinking his eyes fell on the Thing, clasped in Torrit's arms.
He was aware that there was a thought he ought to be having. He made a space in his head politely and waited patiently to see what it was and then, just as it was about to arrive, Grimma said to Angalo: 'What happens to nomes who aren't in a department?' 'They lead very sad lives,' said Angalo. 'They just have to get along as best they can.' He looked as if he was about to cry. 'I believe you,' he said. 'My father says it's wrong to watch the lorries. They can lead you into wrong thoughts, he says. Well, I've watched them for months. Sometimes they come in wet. It's not all a dream Outside, things happen. Look, why don't you sort of hang around, and I'm sure he'll change his mind.' The Store was big. Masklin had thought the lorry was big. The Store was bigger. It went on for ever, a maze of floor and walls and long, tiring steps. Nomes hurried or sauntered past them on errands of their own, and there seemed to be no end of them. In fact the word 'big' was too small. The Store needed a whole new word.