The Fifth Elephant d-24

by Terry Pratchett

  'Or you could accept it and make such a cockup of it that he takes it away from you...'

  'You're doing this on purpose, Nobby!'

  'Might be worth a try, Fred.'

  'Yeah, but the thing about cock-ups, Nobby, is that it's hard for you to be, you know, precise. You might think you're making a little cock-up and then it blows up in your face and it turns out to be in fact a big cock-up, and in those circumstances, Nobby, I'm sort of worried that what his lordship might take away from me wouldn't just be the job. I hope I don't have to draw you a picture.'

  'Good point, Fred.'

  'What I'm saying is, cock-ups is like... well, cock-ups is... well, the thing about cock-ups is you never know what size they're going to be.'

  'Well, Fred, the third choice is you putting up with it.'

  'That's not helpful, Nobby.'

  'It'll only be for a couple of weeks, then Mister Vimes'll be back.'

  'Yeah, but supposing he isn't? Nasty place, Uberwald. I heard where it's a misery wrapped in a enema. That doesn't sound too good. You can fall down things. Then I'm stuck, right? I don't know how to do officering.'

  'No one knows how to do officering, Fred. That's why they're officers. If they knew anything, they'd be sergeants.'

  Now Colon's face screwed up again in desperate thought. As a lifelong uniformed man, a three-striped peg that had found a three-striped hole very early in its career, he subscribed automatically and unthinkingly to the belief that officers as a class could not put their own trousers on without a map. He conscientiously excluded Vimes and Carrot from the list, elevating them to the rank of honorary sergeant.

  Nobby was watching him with an expression of combined concern, friendliness and predatory intent.

  'What shall I do, Nobby?'

  'Well, "captain",' said Nobby, and then he gave a little cough, 'what officers mainly have to do, as you know, is sign things—'

  The door was knocked on and opened at the same time by a flustered constable.

  'Sarge, Constable Shoe says he really does need an officer down at Sonky's factory.'

  'What, the rubber wally man?' said Colon. 'Right. An officer. Right. We'll be along.'

  'And that's Captain Colon,' said Nobby quickly.

  'Er... er... yes, and that's Captain Colon, thank you very much,' said Colon, adding as his resolve stiffened, 'and I'll thank you not to forget it!'

  The constable stared at them, and then stopped trying to understand.

  'And there's a troll downstairs who insists on speaking to whoever's in charge—'

  'Can't Stronginthearm deal with it?'

  'Er... is Sergeant Stronginthearm still a sergeant?' said the constable.

  'Yes!'

  'Even unconscious?'

  'What?'

  'He's flat on the floor right now, Sar— Captain.'

  'What's the troll want?'

  'Right now he wants to kill someone, but mainly I think he wants someone to take the clamp off'f his foot.'

  Gaspode ran up and down, nose barely an inch from the ground. Carrot waited, holding his horse. It was a good one. Carrot hadn't spent a lot of his wages, up until now.

  Finally the dog sat down and looked depressed.

  'So tell me about this wonderful nose the, Patrician has got, then,' he said.

  'Not a trace?'

  'You'd better get Vetinari down here, if he's so good,' said Gaspode. 'What's the point of starting here? Worst place in the whole city! It's the gate to the cattle market, am I right? Trying not to smell stuff is the trick here, is the point I'm makin'. There's ground-in stink. If you wanted to get on the trail of somebody, this is the last place I'd start.'

  'Very good point,' said Carrot carefully. 'So, what's the strongest smell heading Hubwards?'

  'Dung carts, o'course. Yesterday. Always a big clear-out of the pens first thing Friday morning.'

  'You can follow the smell?'

  Gaspode rolled his eyes. 'With my head in a bucket.'

  'Good. Let's go.'

  'So,' said Gaspode, as they began to leave the gate's bustle behind, 'we're chasing this girl, right?'

  'Yes.'

  'Just you?'

  'Yes.'

  'Not like with dogs, then, where there might be twenty or thirty?'

  'No.'

  'So we're not looking at a bucket of cold water here?'

  'No.'

  Constable Shoe saluted, but a little testily. He'd been waiting rather a long time. 'Afternoon, Sergeant—'

  'That's Captain,' said Captain Colon. 'See the pip on my shoulder, Reg?'

  Reg looked closely. 'I thought it was bird doings, Sarge.'

  'That's Captain,' said Colon automatically. 'It's only chalk now because I ain't got time to get it done properly,' he said. 'So don't be cheeky.'

  'What's up with Nobby?' said Reg. Corporal Nobbs was holding a damp cloth over one eye.

  'Bit of a contry tomps with an illegally parked troll,' said Captain Colon.

  'Shows what kind of troll he was, striking a lady,' muttered Nobby.

  'But you ain't a lady, Nobby. You're just wearing your traffic-calming disguise.'

  'He wasn't to know.'

  'You'd got your helmet on. Anyway, you shouldn't have clamped him.'

  'He was parked, Fred.'

  'He'd been knocked down by a cart,' said Captain Colon. 'And that's captain.'

  'Well, they always have excuses,' said Nobby sullenly.

  'You'd better show us the corpus, Reg,' said Colon.

  The body in the cellar was duly inspected.

  '... and I remember Cheery saying there was a smell of cat's pee and sulphur at the Dwarf Bread Museum,' said Reg.

  'Certainly hangs about,' said Colon. 'You wouldn't have blocked sinuses if you worked here for a day.'

  'And I thought, "I wonder if someone'd tried to make a mould of the replica Scone", sir,' said Reg.

  'Now that is clever,' said Fred Colon. 'You'd get the real one back then, wouldn't you?'

  'Er, no, Sarge— Captain. But you'd get a copy of the. replica.'

  'Would that be legal?'

  'Can't say, sir. I wouldn't think so. It wouldn't fool a dwarf for five minutes.'

  'Then who'd want to kill him?'

  'A father of thirteen kids, maybe?' said Nobby. 'Haha.'

  'Nobby, will you stop pinching the merchandise?' said Colon. 'And don't argue, I just saw you put a couple of dozen in your handbag.'

  'Dat don't matter,' rumbled the troll. 'Mister Sonky always said dey was free to the Watch.'

  'That was very... civic of him,' said Captain Colon.

  'Yeah, he said der last frog we wanted was more bloody coppers around the city.'

  A pigeon chose that diplomatic moment to flutter into the factory and land on Colon's shoulder, where it promoted him. Colon reached up, removed the message capsule and unfolded the contents.

  'It's from Visit,' he said. 'There's a Clue, he says.'

  'What to?' said Nobby.

  'Not to anything, Nobby. Just a Clue.' He took off his helmet and wiped his brow. This was what he'd hoped to avoid. In his heart of battered hearts, he suspected that Vimes and Carrot were good at putting clues next to other clues and thinking about them. That was their talent. He had others... well, he was good with people, and he had a shiny breastplate, and he could sergeant in his sleep 'All right, write up your report,' he said. 'Well done. We're going back to the Yard.

  'I can see this is going to get on top of me,' said Colon, as they walked away. 'There's paperwork, too. You know me and paperwork, Nobby.'

  'You're a very thorough reader, that's all, Fred,' said Nobby. 'I've seen you take ages over just one page. Digesting it magisterially, I thought.'

  Colon brightened a little. 'Yes, that's what I do,' he said.

  'Even if it's only the menu down at the Klatchian Take-Away, I've seen you staring at one line for a minute at a time.'

  'Well, obviously you can't let people put one over on you,' said Colon, sti
cking out his chest, or at least sticking it further up.

  'What you need is an aide de camp,' said Nobby, lifting his dress to step over a puddle.

  'I do?'

  'Oh, yes. 'Cos of you being a figurehead and setting an example to your men,' said Nobby.

  'Ah. Right. Yes,' said Colon, grasping the idea with relief. 'A man can't be expected to do all that and read long words, am I right?'

  'Exactly. And, of course, we're down one sergeant at the Yard now,' said Nobby.

  'Good point, Nobby. It's going to be busy.'

  They walked on for a while.

  'You could promote someone,' Nobby prompted.

  'Could I?'

  'What good's being the boss if you can't?'

  'That's true. And it's sort of an emergency. Hmm... any thoughts, Nobby?'

  Nobby sighed inwardly. A penny could drop through wet cement faster than it could drop for Fred Colon.

  'A name springs to mind,' he said.

  'Ah, right. Yes. Reg Shoe, right? Good at writing, a keen thinker, and of course he's cool headed,' said Colon. 'Icy, practically.'

  'But a bit on the dead side,' said Nobby.

  'Yes, I suppose that counts against him.'

  'And he goes to pieces unpredictably,' said Nobby.

  'That's true,' said Captain Colon. 'No one likes shaking hands and ending up with more fingers than they started with.'

  'So p'raps it might be best to consider someone who has been unreasonably overlooked,' said Nobby, going for broke. 'Someone whose face dunt fit, p'raps. Someone whose experience in the Watch genially and in Traffic in particular could be of great service to the city if people wouldn't go on about one or two lapses which didn't happen in any case.'

  The dawn of intelligence rose across the vistas of Colon's face.

  'Ah,' he said. 'I see. Well, why didn't you come right out with that at the start, Nobby?'

  'Well, it's your decision, Fred... I mean, Captain,' said Nobby earnestly.

  'But s'posing Mister Vimes doesn't agree? He'll be back in a couple of weeks.'

  'That'll be long enough,' said Nobby.

  'And you don't mind?'

  'Me? Mind? Not me. You know me, Fred, always ready to do my bit.'

  'Nobby?'

  'Yes, Fred?'

  'The dress...'

  'Yes, Fred?'

  'I thought we weren't doing the... traffic calming any more?'

  'Yes, Fred. But I thought I'd keep it on ready to swing into action just in case you decided that we should.'

  A chilly wind blew across the cabbage fields.

  To Gaspode it brought, besides the overpowering fumes of the cabbage and the dark red smell of the dung carts, hints of pine, mountains, snow, sweat and stale cigar smoke. The last came from the cart men's habit of smoking large, cheap cigars. They kept the flies off.

  It was better than vision. The world of smell stretched before Gaspode.

  'My paws hurt,' he said.

  'There's a good dog,' said Carrot.

  The road forked. Gaspode stopped and snuffled around. 'Well, here's an int'resting frog,' he said. 'Some of the dung's jumped down off'f the cart and headed away across the fields here. You were right.'

  'Can you smell water anywhere around?' said Carrot, scanning the flat plain.

  Gaspode's mottled nose wrinkled up in effort. 'Pond,' he said. 'Not very big. 'bout a mile away.'

  'She'll be heading towards it. Very meticulous about cleanliness, Angua. That's not usual in werewolves.'

  'Never been one for water myself,' said Gaspode.

  'Is that a fact?'

  'Here, no need for that! I had a B-A-T-H once, you know, it's not as if I don't know what it's like.'

  The pond was in a clump of wind-blown trees. Dry grass rustled in the breeze. A single coot scuttled into the reeds as Carrot and Gaspode approached.

  'Yeah, here we are,' said Gaspode. 'A lot of muck goes in, and' - he sniffed at the stirred-up mud - 'er, yeah, she comes out. Um.'

  'Is there a problem?' said Carrot.

  'What? Oh, no. Clear scent. Headin' for the mountains, just like you said. Um.' Gaspode sat down and scratched himself with a hind leg.

  'There's a problem, isn't there... ?' said Carrot.

  'Well, supposin' there was something really bad that you wouldn't really want to know, and I knew what it was... How'd you feel about me tellin' you? I mean, some peopled rather not know. It's a pers'nal thing.'

  'Gaspode!'

  'She's not alone. There's another wolf.'

  'Ah.' Carrot's mild, uninformative smile did not change.

  'Er, of the male persuasion,' said Gaspode. 'A boy wolf. Er. Very much so.'

  'Thank you, Gaspode.'

  'Extremely male. Um. In a very def'nite way. Unmistakably.'

  'Yes, I think I understand.'

  'And this is just words. In smell, it's a lot more, well, emphatic.'

  'Thank you for that, Gaspode. And they're heading...'

  'Still straight for the mountains, boss,' said Gaspode, as kindly as he could. He wasn't certain of all the details of human sexual relationships, and the ones he was certain of he still couldn't quite believe, but he knew that they were a lot more complicated than those enjoyed by the doggy fraternity.

  'This smell...'

  'The extremely male one I was talkin' about?'

  'The very one, yes,' said Carrot levelly. 'You could still smell it if you were on the horse, could you?'

  'I could smell it with my nose in a sack of onions.'

  'Good. Because I think we should move a little faster now.'

  'Yes, I thought you'd think that.'

  Constable Visit saluted when Nobby and Colon entered Pseudopolis Yard.

  'I thought you ought to know about this right away, sir,' he said, flourishing a square of paper. 'I just got it off Rodney.'

  'Who?'

  'The imp on the bridge, sir. He paints pictures of carts going too fast? No one had been feeding him,' Visit added, in a mildly accusing tone.

  'Oh. Someone speeding,' said Colon. 'So?' He looked again. 'That's one of those sedan chairs the deep-down dwarfs use, isn't it? Them trolls must've been moving!'

  'It was just after the Scone was stolen,' said Visit. 'Rodney writes the time in the corner, see? A bit odd, I thought. Like a kind of getaway vehicle, sir?'

  'What'd a dwarf want to steal a worthless lump of rock for?' said Colon. 'Especially them dark dwarfs. They give me the creeps in those stupid clothes they wear.'

  Angry silence rang like a dropped girder in a temple. There were three dwarfs in the room.

  'You two! You ought to be out on patrol!' barked Sergeant Stronginthearm. 'I've got business down at Chitterling Street!'

  All three dwarfs marched out, somehow contriving even to walk angrily.

  'Well, what was that about?' said Fred Colon. 'Bit touchy, aren't they? Mister Vimes says that sort of thing all the time and no one minds.'

  'Yes, but that's because he's Sam Vimes,' said Nobby.

  'Oh? And are you inferring I'm not?' said Captain Colon.

  'Well, yes, Fred. You're Fred Colon,' said Nobby patiently.

  'Oh, I am, am I?'

  'Yes, Captain Colon.'

  'And they'd better bloody remember it!' Colon snapped. 'I'm not a soft touch, me. I'm not going to take insubordination like that! I've always said Vimes was a bit too soft on those dwarfs! They gets the same pay as us and they're only half the size!'

  'Yes, yes,' said Nobby, waving his hands placatingly in a desperate attempt to calm things down. 'But, Fred, trolls are twice as big as us and they get paid the same, so it—'

  'But they've only got a quarter of the brains, so it's just the same, like I said—'

  The noise they heard was long and drawn out and menacing. It was the sound of LanceConstable Bluejohn's chair being pushed back.

  The floor creaked as he shambled past Colon, removed his helmet from its peg with one enormous hand and headed for the door.

 
; ' 'm goin' on patrol,' he mumbled.

  'You're not on patrol for another hour,' said Constable Visit.

  ' 'm goin' now,' said Bluejohn. The room was darkened for a moment as he eclipsed the doorway, and then he was gone.

  'Why's everyone so tetchy all of a sudden?' said Colon. The remaining constables tried not to catch his eye.

  'Did I hear someone snigger?' he demanded.

  'I didn't hear anyone snigger, Sarge,' said Nobby.

  'Oh? Oh? You think I'm a sergeant, do you, Corporal Nobbs?'

  'No, Fred, I— Oh, gawds...'

  'I can see things have got pretty slack around here,' said Captain Colon, an evil little gleam in his eye. 'I bet you were all thinking, oh, it's only fat old Fred Colon, it's all going to be gravy from now on, eh?'

  'Oh, Fred, no one thinks you're old— Oh, gawds...'

  'Just fat, eh?' Fred glowered around the room. Suddenly, and against all previous evidence, everyone was vitally interested in their paperwork.

  'Right! Well, from now on things are going to be different,' said Captain Colon. 'Oh, yes. I'm on to all your little tricks— Who said that?'

  'Said what, captain?' said Nobby, who'd also heard the little whispered 'We learned 'em all from you, sarge,' but at this moment would eat live coals rather than admit it.

  'Someone said something blotto voice,' said Captain Colon.

  'I'm sure they didn't, captain,' said Nobby.

  'And I won't be eyeballed like that, neither!'

  'No one's looking at you!' wailed Nobby.

  'Aha, you think I don't know that one?' Colon shouted. 'There's plenty of ways to eyeball someone without lookin' at 'em, corporal. That man over there is earlobing me!'

  'I think Constable Ping is just really interested in the report he's writing, Fre— Sar— Captain.'

  Colon's ruffled feathers settled a little. 'Well, all right. And now I'm going up to my office, all right? There'll be some changes around here. And someone bring me a cup of tea.'

  They watched him go up the stairs, enter the office and slam the door.

  'Well, the—' Constable Ping began, but Nobby, who had a lot more experience of the Colon personality, waved one hand frantically for silence while he held the other one to his ear, very theatrically.

  Then they all heard the door click open again, quietly.