Chapter Seven - In which patient detectoring yields sinister results, and we witness a regrettable act of violence.
'The Duck Man?' said Carrot.
'Ignore the suit, just look at the face,' said Vimes.
Carrot stared. 'You're right. But why would the duck man hire freelance gamblers?'
'I think it's more likely someone hired the Duck Man to pretend to hire the gamblers.'
'Who'd do that?'
'I think you'd better ask him.'
'I don't want to crow or anything,' said Gaspode as they headed for the bridge, 'but if you'd have taken me along instead of that stupid imp in a hat I could have told you straight away.'
Carrot didn't say anything.
'In fact, it might be easier if I'm the one who talks to him. They all trust me, whereas you're just a copper.'
Carrot nodded reluctantly. 'I'll wait here then, shall I?'
'Now you know what it feels like,' said Gaspode, as he headed off to see the beggars.
He found them sitting in their usual spot under the bridge.
'You got the duck back then?'
'Duck?'
Gaspode had got into the duck argument once before, and that was enough. 'Never mind. But you've got the watch interested in you now.'
The Duck Man shrugged. 'They won't worry about us. As wonderful a provider as the Ankh is, we do need money occasionally, and there are worse ways of getting it.'
Foul Ole Ron spat. 'Buggrit.'
'Exactly,' continued the Duck Man without a pause. 'Why are you so concerned anyway?'
'I know that Captain Carrot. He seems daft enough, but he gets there, and he's got a knack of getting people to do as they're told.'
'Probably because he's the king.'
And though everyone knew it, this was the only place Gaspode had ever heard it mentioned. He scratched an ear. 'Maybe. Anyway, he's sniffing around so either we tell him what we know or he'll come down here himself. He goes anywhere he likes.'
The Duck Man shrugged. 'There's not much to tell anyway. A man hired me to pretend to be a rich gambler, gave me ten dollars and a glass of wine.'
'The Captain won't be impressed if that's all I bring him. He needs to find that man – could you at least give some kind of description?'
'I don't need to. He was sat at the table with us.'
---
There was an hour to go before they went to the palace. Maxim had checked his costume and his makeup far too many times, and he was now at the pacing up and down stage. It'll be fine, he told himself. We're bound to get away with it.
A few rooms down the hall, Art was busy rechecking his costume, his makeup and his crossbow.
---
Gaspode was keenly feeling the loss of dignity that accompanied being carried by Captain Carrot, especially since he hadn't been consulted. He'd just told his story and Carrot had picked him up and started running. There was some small consolation, though, in the face that he got to see first hand the look on Commander Vimes's face when a six-foot man in armour burst into his office.
---
Max kept pulling at the hood of his cloak to make sure it covered his face, but no one seemed to notice either of them as they wandered through the streets with their ladder. As Art had said, it'd be easier to get into the gardens first, then start creeping towards a convenient door, possibly by making use of the trenches whose presence in the landscape indicated the hand of Bloody Stupid Johnson in the design.
In getting over the wall they decided to opt for speed rather than stealth. No amount of excuses stand up against being spotted halfway up the ladder, so they threw off the cloaks, made sure they were on the ladder for as little time as possible, then lay on top of the wall and pulled the it over with them. On the other side they moved a little more carefully getting into the trench, which really did seem very deep, and carrying the ladder along with them.
---
As Vimes and Carrot ran off towards the palace it took all Gaspode's self-control to stop him shouting 'Oi, what about me?' after them. He settled for muttering obscenities as he wandered along, following the scent of soap and cigars.
---
If anyone had been paying attention in the garden, they would have seen two grey figures standing on either side of the library window that definitely hadn't been there last night. Fortunately for them, no one noticed them, although one of the apprentice gardeners did get shouted at for leaving a ladder on the lawn.
Inside the library the two figures looked well placed, fitting in perfectly with the solemn stillness of the room. Until they began talking, anyway.
'I think we should split up,' said Art quietly.
'What?' murmured Max. 'Why not just stay here for the two hours? We're in the palace, aren't we?'
'Yes, but if someone comes in we'll both get caught. If we split up we'll have twice as much chance of winning the bet.'
'If one of us goes wandering around the palace he's bound to be seen, and then people'll be on the lookout for mysterious walking statues. I say we stay here.' Max used his firmest tone.
Art looked indecisive for a minute, and then drew a crossbow Max hadn't realised he'd been carrying. 'Sorry, Max, but I need to go somewhere else in the palace. Without you.'
Max suddenly felt very cold. 'You're going to kill someone, aren't you.'
'Yes. But not you, if I can help it.'
Max couldn't prevent the sarcasm reaching his tone. 'Well, thanks, that's-'
'I'll need you to take the blame.'
As Max tried to think of a reply, Art hit him.