Selecting the Instruments


A note- this fic is set post Thief of Time, if you were wondering. Sorry it's been so long coming. I don't own anything except my guitar, my black clothes, a handbag and Barking Will Gravy. Don't steal him, he's mine. Huzzah.


-Angua and Cheery-


Sargeant Angua tripped mid-stride and almost fell over the running dwarf. The dwarf was wearing high-heeled iron boots and a leather skirt. 'Hello, Cheery,' she said wearily, helping the dwarf to her feet.

'Hello Angua,' winced Cheery, accepting the hand up. 'Where are you going?'

'Sensible Alley, off Morphic Street,' said Angua. 'You?'

'Same,' said Cheery, looking down.

'You going to Barking Will Gravy's, then?' Angua asked.

'Yes,' said Cheery quietly.

'Me too,' said Angua, as the two officers hurried down the alley to Morphic Street.


Barking Will Gravy was, as his nickname suggests, rather mad. Barking mad, in fact. It didn't show, unless, of course, you mentioned weasels, or things that went bloop. He was, however, extremely good at what he did, and what he did was sell things. What he sold was mutable, but whatever it was, he sold it. With the recent resurgence of Music With Rocks In, he had managed to acquire several instruments from the Street of Cunning Artificers. While many more reputable shops over in Ankh sold similar items, Will's were infallibly cheaper.

Due to the lateness of the hour, there were very few customers about. A few half-concealed features slunk further into the shadows at the sight of Angua. They were ignored. The two Watchmen entered the small, dark emporium. Barking Will could have kept the place brightly lit, he certainly made enough money, but it was the look of the thing.

'Good evening,' said Barking Will, pottering out of the shadows behind the counter. He spotted who it was, and smiled genially. 'Oh, it's you, Sargeant Angua, Corporal Littlebottom. Didn't quite see you. What can I, hmm, do for you, officers?'

'We're after instruments,' said Angua. 'I'm looking for something that looks like a guitar, sounds deeper, named after a fish?'

'Ah! A bass guitar, very, hmm, popular, very. I have a fine one over there in the corner, of you'd care to, hmm, have a look...?'

Angua crossed the room in three strides and picked up the bass. She held it as Big Mad Drongo had, and plucked a note. It resounded satisfyingly. 'I'll have it,' she said.

'A fine choice, hmm, a fine choice, very nice instrument. Appropriate to your, hmm, temperament, one might say?' Will peered over the top of the counter and addressed Cheery. 'And for you, Corporal?'

Cheery pointed at the set of drums in the grubby window. 'Those,' she said.

'The drums? Hmm, yes. Generally not so popular with dwarfs… the original idea was developed by trolls, you see, hitting big rocks together and making them go thunk. Adapted for less, hmm, siliceous life forms, but still not a big, hmm, hit with dwarfs.'

'Don't care.' Cheery folded her arms. 'Those.'

'I can, hmm, see your mind's made up. Will you be paying, hmm, separately?'

'Yes,' said Angua, laying the bass on the counter. 'How much is it?'

'Ten, hmm, dollars, Sargeant,' said Will.

'Fine,' said Angua, counting coins out of her pocket. 'There, ten dollars. Thanks, Will.'

'How much for the drums?' asked Cheery.

'Usually, hmm, forty dollars,' said Barking Will. As Angua and Cheery's eyebrows flew up in unison, he hastily said, 'But for an officer of the, hmm, Watch that keeps our city so safe these days, how about twenty?' Angua's brow failed to shift. 'And I'll have them sent round to your lodgings, no, hmm, charge!'

Angua relaxed. So did Barking Will. Madness was one thing, but blind stupidity was not one of Barking Will's traits. Cheery produced the money, feeling only a small pang of guilt at spending so much. 'You are still rooming at Mrs, hmm, Cake's, Corporal?'

'Yes,' said Cheery, feeling confident. Angua shifted her new bass to a more comfortable position under her arm. They went to leave. Just as she was about to walk out, Cheery turned back. 'And if those drums don't arrive, or if they have even one scratch on them, I won't even bother with exploding things. I'll go straight to things that go bloop.'

Will paled several shades. 'Quite,' he choked. Cheery gave a grim, satisfied little smile, and walked out of the shop, tapping out a little rhythm with her fingers.