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Chapter XLIV
In truth, as they made their way towards the Egitto, she became increasingly glad that Susan was with her. They'd left Honeysuckle at Morpork Mercy, before she could find out that Moo had gone missing again, and were now making their way to the Omnian Quarter by as direct a route as possible. This was taking a lot longer than they'd anticipated as all the streets were rammed with people; they seemed almost as numerous as the flies.
Many of them were inebriated by alcohol, others were intoxicated on other drugs but they were all drunk on hate and smashing-up Omnian shops. A lot of them carried flags bearing the black cross, some of the nastier ones carried the horrible hooked-cross, but everyone seemed to be carrying a weapon…and a torch. Given that the heatwave had made whole city almost tinder-dry, Sacharissa thought that this was stupidity bordering on insanity, but then she thought all these anti-Omites were completely crazy.
A lot of the people who weren't involved in the marches, especially the women, were being harassed by those who were, yet she and Susan had been left mercifully unmolested. It was almost as though people couldn't see them. Unlike the vampires on The Watch, Sacharissa didn't know her friend's secret. For her part, Susan wasn't ashamed of her lineage, but she didn't broadcast it either. Sacharissa just wanted to get into the Egitto and away from these lunatics. Of course she knew that all these nutcases were heading there too, still at least the Watch would be there to offer some protection…she hoped.
Managing to get a little ahead of the crowd she and Susan turned down Carrow Road which was the first street that led directly into the Egitto. About fifty metres down it was blocked by dwarfs, a lot of dwarfs. They were all carrying shields and axes and wearing chain-mail and very deep frowns. One particularly severe looking dwarf stood out in front of the others and now held up his hand.
"No one passes here," he said. "No one," he repeated, in case they'd thought that no one had really meant: no one at all, apart from you two, of course.
"It doesn't matter," said Sacharissa, reassuringly, "Portman Road is just, well, down the road."
They went back to Loftus Road and headed for the next street down. Portman Road, it turned out, was also blocked by dwarfs, but this time the dwarf-in-front was Brick Murersson who Sacharissa knew from The Duck.
"Hello, Brick, it's me," she said in a friendly voice.
"No one passes here," he replied, in a very unfriendly way.
"Sacharissa," she said, waving her hand in front of his eyes, "don't you remember?"
"No one passes here," said Brick, impassively.
Sacharissa didn't know what to do.
"Oh, come on," said Susan, grabbing her arm.
Back on the maine road she could see by their torches that the mob was now following them down it. Unfortunately, when she looked the other way she saw that it was coming up it too. She wasn't in any way religious but she now prayed to Blind Io that Bramell Lane wasn't going to be another blind alley. She wasn't surprised to be disappointed.
"Oh, gods!" she cried, "What are we going to do now?"
They were caught between the jamb and the door, and it was about to slam behind them.
"Oh, I've had enough of this nonsense," Susan snorted.
She took Sacharissa's hand and marched directly towards the dwarf-in-front.
"EXCUSE ME," she said, in the weirdest voice Sacharissa had ever heard. The dwarf immediately stepped aside, and saluted. As they approached the dwarf-phalanx there was a great deal of shuffling and then a corridor started to appear through the ranks. As they walked down it Sacharissa noted how deep it was and that everyone remained facing forward. No one even looked at them. When they were through and the passage had closed behind them she turned to Susan.
"How did you do that?" she gasped, amazed and impressed in equal measure.
"It was a trick," said Susan with a shrug.
"Yes, I know it was a trick," said Sacharissa, "but how did you do it?"
"It's a secret."
"Well, it was a very good trick."
"It was, wasn't it?" Susan agreed, smiling.
When they reached it, Dean Court was a sight indeed. It was still light, what with it being summer and all, but though there were no torches, the square was filled with artificial light. Partly the work of Leonardo of Quirm and partly that of Otto Chreik, beams of chemical illumination swept the square, where swarms of actors were preparing the stage for the night's greatest performance.
"Now we are going to have to part ways," said Susan, in her schoolmistress voice, "as you have your work to do and I mine. Try to be good, as I shall have my eye on you."
"If I'm a good girl will you tell me the secret of your trick, miss?" Sacharissa laughed.
"No," said Susan with a chuckle of her own, "but you may have a sweet. Now, get on with you."
"Yes, miss," Sacharissa chuckled as she skipped away.
Her light-heartedness disappeared when she considered the sight in front of her. When she looked back, though, Susan appeared to be talking to someone; someone taller, by the way she kept looking up, but there was clearly no one there.
"GOOD EVENING, GRANDFATHER," said Susan
"GOOD EVENING, LITTLE ONE," said Death.
"I really wish You wouldn't call me that."
"I APOLOGISE, GRANDDAUGHTER."
"Now You're just yanking my chain."
"I DO NOT HAVE ANY CHAINS WITH ME AT PRESENT, HOWEVER IF SUCH ARE REQUIRED…"
"I never know when You're joking," she said. Obviously looking at His face wasn't going to be of any help.
"NOR DO I," He said.
Susan thought this was almost certainly true; nature of the job she supposed.
"Are You going to be very busy tonight?" she asked, suspecting that she didn't really want to know the answer.
"THAT I CANNOT SAY," replied Death.
"Trade secret, I assume?"
"NO, ON THIS OCCASION I SIMPLY DO NOT KNOW."
"That's unusual, surely?"
"ALMOST UNPRECEDENTED," He agreed.
Susan knew her Grandfather was very precise in his language, so almost meant it had happened at least once before, and probably only once.
"I think I can guess when the last time was."
"I THINK YOU CAN TOO."
Well, that had certainly cheered her down.
"Is there anything You want me to do?"
"I WOULD LIKE YOU TO BE YOUR OWN WOMAN, SUSAN, JUST AS YOUR MOTHER ALWAYS WAS."
Sometimes she so wished He had a tone of voice because she really couldn't tell…
"No, I meant tonight; is there anything You want me to do tonight?"
"LOOK AFTER YOUR FRIENDS," He said, simply.
"I'll do that, thanks, Gramps,"
"AH, IT APPEARS THAT I DO INDEED HAVE SOME LENGTHS OF CHAIN BENEATH MY CLOAK," He said and then did that strange rattling thing He thought was a laugh.
"Well, I must go now," said Susan, "I look forward to seeing you again."
Though she really meant this, she really didn't. Death raised a skeletal hand in parting and then vanished. Not that anyone else had been able to see Him anyway.
As Sacharissa took in the sight of the whole stage she could see that if a play was going to be performed here tonight then it wasn't going to be a comedy. Dean Court wasn't a huge square but she thought it was probably capable of holding several thousand people and there were armed watchmen everywhere, hundreds of them, including up on the roofs. They were building barricades, practicing drills, sharpening weapons and generally preparing for a pitched battle. Meanwhile the Omnian residents -at least the ones not being shepherded deeper into the Egitto by officers of The Watch- were busy boarding up their windows and doors against the coming assault, often with the assistance of Watchmen too. The Watchmen themselves were a mixture as exotic as the city they defended. The majority were human but there was also a huge dwarf representation. She didn't know if the dwarfs in the side streets were Watchmen as well -they certainly hadn't been wearing the uniform- but even without them, there were still a lot of dwarfs in The Watch. There were also quite a few trolls and some golems. It was the golems who were doing most of the boarding-up, and doing it very quickly and efficiently, as they did everything they did.
She knew that not all of the Watchmen who looked human were actually human, of course: there were a few werewolves and several vampires –who may have been among those on the roofs- and there was even a rumour that one was an elf. Mind you, there was also a rumour that there was a Watchman who was an Orc. She preferred to leave wild, unsubstantiated rumours to the people who liked that sort of thing, like The Banner and The Post.
Up on the roofs were the gargoyles, looking menacingly down, plus vampires –probably including Otto- and some humans, and she was fairly sure she'd spotted and ape –undoubtedly the Librarian. There was also at least one banshee as she could periodically hear her screaming her warning to keep away. You'd have to be incredibly thick to ignore that, unfortunately…
In addition, there were supposed to be gnomes, zombies and bogeymen –and possibly an orc- in the sewers in case anyone tried to get in that way. She hadn't seen any pictsies, but then she wouldn't have expected to be able to. She knew that that if they weren't already here then their arrival was imminent, and that was enough. Altogether, in was a formidable force and far more than a match for the drunken thuggery currently brawling and groping its way towards them. But, she supposed, that rather depended on how many thugs there actually were.
Dean Court sloped up from its main entrance at Rodney Parade all the way to the Civic Centre, where it seemed, as far as Sacharissa could tell, The Watch had decided to establish its base. She could definitely see Commander Carrot there and, she thought, Sergeant von Humpeding. It seemed to her like a good place to view and report from. That it was likely to be a safe place too –if anywhere was going to be- had not even entered her calculations.
The Civic Centre was a grand, solid, columned hall that the people of the Egitto had built themselves for the purpose of public meetings. At these meetings people1 could –if they had at least ten supporters- suggest a policy for the council to pursue in the future and the 'people' would then vote on this; if a majority agreed it would then become policy and everyone had to behave accordingly. Being Omnians, the thought that one of the people might choose not to obey the rules had never occurred to them. Naturally, this struck outsiders as being completely bonkers.
Ankh-Morpork was a Republic, it even had a senate, consuls, tribunes and a Patrician to prove it, –the letters SPAM2 were worked into the iron gates of The Patrician's palace, carved into the marble above the doors of the Senate building and even wrought in the covers of the manholes that led into the Cloaca Maxima3- but it wasn't a democracy; it had learned its lesson –as everyone had- from the Ephebean city of Máthima and the lesson was this: never trust the people.
From his elevated vantage point Carrot could survey the Watch preparations going on below and they made good viewing: a well-ordered and well-disciplined force going about its well-planned business almost brought a chanting and stomping to his dwarfish heart. Unfortunately, the number of torches he could make out in the surrounding streets wasn't quite so heartening.
"What is your best estimate of their numbers, sergeant?" he asked Sally.
"Between five and six thousand, sir," she replied.
"Can we defeat that many?"
Sally paused for a moment to calculate. While she was doing so she felt something land lightly on her back; in an instant it was on her shoulder.
"Hullaw, bloodsuckin' lassie," said the pictsie by her ear.
"We can beat them easily, sir," she concluded, "oh, and this is Magnus Og." She'd never met him before but, through Harry and Lucy, she knew exactly who he was.
"Hail and well met, Magnus Og," said Carrot, observing the formalities.
"Same tae you, Carrot Ironfoundersson," said the pictsie, not quite managing to do the same.
"Are you here to aid us?" asked Carrot.
"Aye," Magnus replied.
"Are there others of your kind with you?"
"Aye."
"How many?" Carrot asked.
"Enough," said Magnus and was gone.
After a moment's thought Carrot asked Sally:
"Will that be enough?"
"Almost certainly, sir," Sally replied.
To Patrick's expert eye the preparations being made by The Watch were, loath though he was to admit it, not too bad. He'd sort of expected something from the professionals but even the reserves and the volunteers seemed to be fairly disciplined, in spite of the fact that most of them were human, as was the majority of The Watch itself. Patrick wasn't prejudiced against humans, what with his being one and all that but, given his unique background and experience, he had no illusions about them either.
Take this anti-Omitism thing, for example. Now no one, least of all the Omnians themselves, would deny that they deserved everything they got: all that flaying and smiting, and the burning and torturing too, and the invading of their neighbours where they put everyone to the sword and their towns and villages to the torch… Well, you could see that that wasn't the best way to make friends. "As ye plant so shall ye grow," as one of their prophets had said prophetically and, unusually, accurately. Of course no one thought of invading Omnia back, not while it had a huge, ferocious and rigidly disciplined army.4 But after the Reformation of Brutha and the Laying Down of Arms the wolves had begun stalking. The Ephebeans -who were no mean battlers themselves- had decided to send some surveyors ahead to assess the likely costs of an invasion. In that peculiarly strange Ephebean way they had chosen philosophers for the job; their reasoning was that, though they might all be half-mad, they knew their geometry.
One particularly mad one was Aristarchus of Patmos, who not only believed that the Disc was really a globe but also that the sun was a giant fiery ball that the "globe" orbited in an infinite universe; he was also particularly good at geometry, algebra, arithmetic –all invented in Ephebe- but also something they called myalology.5 When he duly reported what he had discovered to The Assembly it had voted almost unanimously to abandon any plans for an invasion.6
According to Aristarchus the army wasn't only still there, but was actually a great deal bigger, as it now also contained women. Admittedly it was now called either called the Peace Force –which undertook public works: building, houses, roads, dams…- or the Redemption Army –that helped the poor and took care of the sick and elderly- but it was still an army. Virtually every young person in Omnia belonged to one or the other branches of it and they were collectively known as Lennies. They all lived, at least for several years of Holy Service, on communal farms called Kravitz. Aristarchus had calculated that it would take 3.1415926535 seconds to turn it into an army that could fight. When, ignoring Aristarchus because they had never heard of him, Istanzia had in fact invaded, it was discovered that it actually took less time even than that. Though the Omnians no longer had any weapons it turned out that one unarmed Omnian was now the equivalent of only one, fully-armed, enemy soldier; the four:forty rule still applied. The invasion had been defeated in six days.
No one tried again. However, here in the city, the anti-Omites clearly thought that if they outnumbered them by a hundred to one then they should by fairly safe. Yet what drove them completely baffled him. They blamed Omnians for virtually everything. Oh, he knew, better than most that this was the human way: whatever your problems may be, they are someone else's fault, not yours. It was a tired and tested excuse –he'd tried it himself a few times, though found it wanting- and not just among humans. The difference was that humans, unlike other races, always seemed to blame the wrong people. If they were poor then they never blamed the rich, but only other poor people and if they were being made penurious by interest payments the never blamed the Lenders7 but somehow thought immigrants, who were poorer than they were themselves, were somehow to blame. One of the Omnian prophets, Obidiah, he thought, had stated that stupidity was its own punishment. Unfortunately, Patrick knew this not to be the case; or at least not sufficient punishment.
There were quite a few Omnians in The Watch, and they could all fight as well Smite. The Watch actually seemed to be a good inoculation against anti-Omitism: there had been one anti-Omite –Constable Mogg- but he had resigned from the force as he kept being beaten up. Strangely, by gangs of Black Crossers.8 Initially the Omnians had been randomly distributed throughout the force, until Harry had arrived, that is, and realised they would work much better as single unit; this was the Special Patrol Group, which was dedicated to riot-control. Of course, if there were no riots then its constables would be assigned other duties, but as there was almost always a riot going on somewhere –this being Ankh-Morpork, after all- it had rather become a force within a force. Patrick could see that it had now been split in two, half on the left-flank and half on the right. He approved of this as they were ordering the young Omnian volunteers. These were unlikely to measure up to the Lennies back home, but he thought they'd still be more useful than the average human volunteer. True, they refused to carry weapons, as it was against their religion, but that was a good thing, as even a gladius in untrained hands was as likely to damage its user as his opponent.
And, after all, the Omnians weren't the only members of The Watch who didn't have any weapons, in fact most of them, apart from the humans, didn't need them. Of course any dwarf worth his seam generally slept with his/her/hes/hir axe but, them apart, weapons were rare. A troll did like his club but, except on a battlefield, this was mostly for show and Patrick couldn't see any troll at the moment that was actually carrying one. There were two reasons for this: there would probably be little room to swing it and, in any case, a stone fist was at least as effective against a human as any club yet cut or hewn. A golem fist was, if anything, even harder than a troll's, gargoyles couldn't hold a weapon properly, vampires and werewolves relied mostly on terror and the only pictsie in The Watch –Douglas Douglas of the Clan Douglas- would have considered it an insult to suggest he would ever need one; his knife, which he called a Beastie Bhoy, was only for eating.
No, weapons were for humans. Oh, and dwarfs. The militia now blocking the side streets off the square was armed to the beard and snarling for a fight. He hoped they wouldn't be needed, because if they got involved there was going to be a bloodbath. Of course, this was what the anti-Omites wanted, though not, as was going to be the case here, if it was going to be their blood. However, looking over the defences, he didn't think they'd be needed. Still, that rather depended on how many anti-Omites turned up for the fight.
Nurse Blister sat staring out of the window of what had been Moo's room. She'd finally managed to calm the hysterical Shame sufficiently to discover what had happened and was rather disappointed in her. Yes, people disappearing right in front of you could be disconcerting, she'd admit that, but such things happened all the time in the Holy Texts, so she shouldn't have been that shocked. Unless she didn't believe in the Sacred Word, that is, but she couldn't believe that of Shame. She knew that Patrick didn't believe in Om, but then he didn't believe in Offler the Crocodile God either, and he'd met him. No, Shame had just been upset by all that was happening and become overwrought. Now she was sleeping it off in Moo's bed while Blister watched over her. She could have sent her home; Om knew she'd wanted to, but it was likely that tonight they were going to need every trained pair of hands they could lay their hands on. She didn't need an Augur to tell her that the omens were bad; she could hear them. But it was the view from the window that really frightened her.
The flies, in their multitudes, kept banging themselves hopelessly against the glass, but they couldn't distract her from the terrible sight she now had over the city. The clouds still lowered ever lower over everything but more than this the setting sun had also leant them a dark red tinge as if somewhere, deep within them, a fire was burning and when the lightening flashed it almost looked like there was a huge serpent's head there too. Yet that was as nothing compared to what was going on below: everywhere she looked she could see streets running with torches. In a city that was now as dry as straw this alone was foolishness of the first order, but she could now even see bonfires in various places too and that was clearly insane.
She could also see a lot of light coming from the Egitto, though it didn't look like flames. She desperately wanted to be with her parents and little Harangue, Mortify and Destroy, but Patrick had persuaded her that she was much more valuable in the hospital than in the Quarter. She trusted him, and for reasons she couldn't explain. She knew that there was something dark about him and his mysterious past; something dangerous even, but she also knew that whenever he put his arms around her, or even just took her hand, she felt safe. She felt protected. If her family was safe in anyone's hands then it was safe in his. Deep in her heart she knew that he would lay down his life for her and therefore also for her family. She had faith in him; almost more than she had faith in Om Himself.
Lucy had left Mrs. Zarkom and little Bom in one of the shelters that had been set up by the Egitto council to protect women and children from the Black Crossers. One of the good things about being a vampire, Lucy had always thought –and least until she'd been struck by the agonbite of inwit- was that just because you were female, it didn't mean that you needed to be protected. Actually, quite a few of the young women in the shelter clearly didn't need protecting either; they were there for one –or possibly two- of two reasons: to do the protecting or because their fathers had told them to be.9 She'd even run into Patrick again as he delivered his own "family" to the shelter. They'd done the introductions and chatted amiably for a few minutes; it turned out that Abominate and Mortify -Bom and Mort- were in the same class at school. Or at least they had been when it was still safe for them to attend. Lucy didn't know what was stranger: that they were making friendly small talk while violent mobs were marching on their way here to kill them all; or that these upright, decent, God-fearing people were prepared to accept vampires and assassins into their families. Omnians might be subject to a great deal of unfair discrimination, but they were clearly not prejudiced themselves, even when they ought to be.
When she and Patrick had parted again on the street she became aware that the air was thicker, the atmosphere more oppressive and the flies even more numerous. She wasn't imagining it, she couldn't, –vampires had very fecund imaginations10 but they never confused dreams and reality- no, things were actually getting worse, and they were getting worse almost by the minute. She'd better get a move on.
From his vantage point, in front of the Civic Centre, Carrot Ironfoundersson, Commander of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch had a good view of not only his preparations going on in the square below but also of what they were preparing for, going on in the surrounding streets. One was good; the other, not so much.
He was flanked by sergeants Boltmaker and Grindersson and being three dwarfs together felt somehow reassuring.11 However, it wasn't a good sign that even the desk sergeants would be fighting tonight: in this particular Ankh-Morpork Minute many would be going to Urgency, but no one would be going to jail.
"There are an awful lot of them, aren't there, sir?" said Tiffany, who had suddenly appeared at his shoulder.
"Yes, Miss Aching," said Carrot, "an awful lot."
"How many do you reckon, sir?" asked Agnes, who was now on his other side, without his having noticed her arrival.
"At a rough estimate, I'd say about fifteen to twenty thousand."
"And how many of us are on that frontline down there?" asked Tiffany.
Carrot didn't bridle are her presumptuous use of the word "us"; they were all in this to together, after all.
"Four hundred-and-seventeen, give or take Nobby Nobbs."
"I don't think he'll be a game-changer either way," she said.
"Nor do I," he agreed, "but, in addition, there are over twelve hundred reserves and volunteers and also a large number of Omnians, both young and old."
"Those still aren't good odds, are they?" said Agnes.
"No," he agreed, "but we can call on the Wee Free Men if we need them."
"Believe me, we'll need them," said Tiffany, "so what shall we have then?"
"Well," Carrot began, calculating in his head as he went along, "if we assume a pictsie counts as one-and-a-half men, a dwarf as two men and both a troll and as golem as six…then I would say about four and a half thousand."
"I think they're still favourites though," said Agnes, sarcastically.
"I think so too," he agreed, "especially as my original estimate about their numbers seems to be have been wrong."
And getting wronger by the minute, thought Agnes.
The angry crowd was pouring into the square like sand into the bottom of an hourglass by now, and Carrot thought it must have numbered at least thirty thousand. In addition, by the blaze of their torches, he estimated that the surrounding streets held at least as many again. That would mean the mob held ten times what that whole Egitto did. How could these people possibly think that so few other people were a threat to anything?
"We've also got the gargoyles for aerial attack," he went on, "and the vampires are around somewhere."
"And how much difference could that possibly make?" Tiffany scoffed.
"You mide be surbrized how much diverence vee can make," said Vlad, suddenly looming behind her. She turned around, startled and then had to look up. And then look up again.
"Well, aren't you a big boy," she said, with a smile.
"And how many can you take then?" asked Agnes, to stop Tiffany getting side-tracked.
"I do not know, berhabs four or five hundred, but it is not just about zee numbers."
"You could take four or five hundred?" drooled Tiffany.
"What do you mean that it's not about the numbers!?" scoffed Agnes, trying to save her friend from herself.
"I can get inzide zer minds," said Vlad, "make zem frightened, even of zhemzelves."
"How many can you do this to," she asked, excitedly.
"A zhouzand, perhabs more."
"Damn!" said Agnes, as close to swearing as she could ever get, "Still not enough."
"But I am not alone," said Vlad.
Agnes was suddenly aware that she was now surrounded by vampires. Not an ideal situation for a pretty, young virgin. At least she wasn't just wearing a nightie.
"Oh, hello," she giggled nervously. And then, fortunately, there was Sally.
"Sorry," said Sally, "but we don't have time for formal introductions. So, Agnes, this is Otto, and these are Lucy and Estragon."
She indicated a distinguished, older gentleman, a sad-looking little girl and a handsome hunk. Otto took her hand and kissed it:
"Enchanted to meet you," he said.
Lucy smiled nervously and gave a little wave.
"Can vee get on viz zis," said Estragon, "I have dinner rezervationz."
Tiffany nudged Agnes: "Vampires are all the same, eh?"
Harry now came bounding up to where they were standing. He had covered a huge amount of ground in a very short amount of time, but he was barely out of breath.
"Ok, boys and girls," he said, "Oh, and you, sir," he added, nodding to Otto,12 "it's time to person up!"
The vampires all looked at each other. Otto spoke first:
"Ladiez first…" he said, bowing to Sally and Lucy, and they were a dark vapour heading for the enemy lines even as their clothes fell to the ground behind them.
"On zee ozer hand," he continued, "you two can eat my zmoke." Then he was gone too. No clothes this time, Agnes noticed.
Vlad and his friend looked at each other.
"I am not going to compete viz girlz ant old men," said Estragon to Vladimir.
"Az if I vould azk such a zing," he replied, "but I am going to compete viz you."
And another two more smoke-trails were gone. No clothes again.
Tiffany and Agnes watched the five missiles hit the mob and saw the mob panic and try to flee, but the terror that the vampires were creating at the front was being countered by even more mob pouring out of Rodney Parade and into the square.
"Time for us to go too," said Harry.
"Indeed," said Carrot, straightening his back and stepping forward, but Harry slapped his hand on his breastplate.
"No, sir, not you," he said.
"I am your commander," said Carrot, indignantly.
"Yes, sir," said Harry, "you are in overall command; which is why you have to stay here."
Carrot drew up his chest; then he frowned and then his shoulders slumped.
"You're right, of course, Captain," he said, "you may proceed."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry.
"You, on the other hand, could cause some mayhem" he said, pointing at Tiffany, "so you're invited."
"What!? Me!?" yelped Tiffany in a high soprano, slapping her arms to her chest, as if to emphasise that she was a girl, "I can't fight!"
"Not you, you daft girl," said Harry, almost laughing and pointing above her head, "him!"
It was only now that she noticed Patrick looming behind her. Creeping-up behind people's backs when they weren't noticing was part of his training, she supposed.
"Thank you, sir," said Patrick, "the honour is to serve."
"Assassins, eh?" said Harry, winking at Tiffany, "the morals are despicable, but you have to admire the manners."
"Race you?" said Patrick.
"Oh, that would be…" said Harry, and sprinted away,
"…UNDIGNIFIED!" he called over his shoulder.
Tiffany watched the two men running down the hill towards the enemy lines; then she looked over at Agnes and reached out her hand.
"Don't you think that there's something we could do too?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," said Agnes, taking her hand, "I think there are many things we could do; we're witches, after all."
Carrot really wished there were something he could do, apart from standing around looking important. He'd never been able to see how that was useful.
1 Men, of course. Though women were technically people, they weren't really "people".
2 The Senate and People of Ankh-Morpork.
3 The great sewer that carried all the city's waste, before dumping it into the Ankh.
4 It was said that a single Omnian soldier was worth two of anyone else's, but that four of them were worth forty.
5 They claimed this was the 'study of the mind', though how they studied something no one could see they didn't explain.
6 The one dissenting voice had been Aristarchus' own father. He had wanted to teach his son a lesson, though he wasn't sure what it was.
7 Dwarfs never made this mistake: if someone charged them excessive interest, they cut his head off. There was no such thing as a dwarf bank.
8 Or at least people who dressed like them.
9 Ominian children were very obedient to their parents' wishes; daughters seven times more so than sons.
10 How else to account for all those different instruments of torture?
11 Even in their helmets neither of them came up close to his shoulder.
12 Vampires didn't start going grey until they were, at least, Millennials.