'It was like . . . I mean, I was sort of inside something, like a bowl, and there were these three terrible faces peering in at me.'
'Aye?'
'Yes, and then they all said, “All hail . . .” and then they started arguing about my name, and then they said, “Anyway, who shall be king hereafter?” And then one of them said, “Here after what?” and one of the other two said, “Just hereafter, girl, it's what you're supposed to say in these circumstances, you might try and make an effort”, and then they all peered closer, and one of the others said, “He looks a bit peaky, I reckon it's all that foreign food”, and then the youngest one said, “Nanny, I've told you already, there's no such place as Thespia”, and then they bickered a bit, and one of the old ones said, “He can't hear us, can he? He's tossing and turning a bit”, and the other one said, “You know I've never been able to get sound on this thing, Esme”, and then they bickered some more, and it went cloudy, and then . . . I woke up . . .' he finished lamely. 'It was horrible, because every time they came close to the bowl it sort of magnified everything, so all you could see was eyes and nostrils.'
Hwel hoisted himself on to the edge of the narrow bed.
'Funny old things, dreams,' he said.
'Not much funny about that one.'
'No, but I mean, last night, I had this dream about a little bandy-legged man walking down a road,' said Hwel. 'He had a little black hat on, and he walked as though his boots were full of water.'
Tomjon nodded politely.
'Yes?' he said. 'And—?'
'Well, that was it. And nothing. He had this little cane which he twirled and, you know, it was incredibly . . .'
The dwarfs voice trailed off. Tomjon's face had that familiar expression of polite and slightly condescending puzzlement that Hwel had come to know and dread.
'Anyway, it was very amusing,' he said, half to himself. But he knew he'd never convince the rest of the company. If it didn't have a custard pie in it somewhere, they said, it wasn't funny.
Tomjon swung his legs out of bed and reached for his britches.
'I'm not going back to sleep,' he said. 'What's the time?'
'It's after midnight,' said Hwel. 'And you know what your father said about going to bed late.'
'I'm not,' said Tomjon, pulling on his boots. Tm getting up early. Getting up early is very healthy. And now I'm going out for a very healthy drink. You can come too,' he added, 'to keep an eye on me.'
Hwel gave him a doubting look.
'You also know what your father says about going out drinking,' he said.
'Yes. He said he used to do it all the time when he was a lad. He said he'd think nothing of quaffing ale all night and coming home at 5 a.m., smashing windows. He said he was a bit of a roister-doister, not like these white-livered people today who can't hold their drink.' Tomjon adjusted his doublet in front of the mirror, and added, 'You know, Hwel, I reckon responsible behaviour is something to get when you grow older. Like varicose veins.'
Hwel sighed. Tomjon's memory for ill-judged remarks was legendary.
'All right,' he said. 'Just the one, though. Somewhere decent.'
'I promise.' Tomjon adjusted his hat. It had a feather in it.
'By the way,' he said, 'exactly how does one quaff?'
'I think it means you spill most of it,' said Hwel.
If the water of the river Ankh was rather thicker and more full of personality than ordinary river water, so the air in the Mended Drum was more crowded than normal air. It was like dry fog.
Tomjon and Hwel watched it spilling out into the street. The door burst open and a man came through backwards, not actually touching the ground until he hit the wall on the opposite side of the street.
An enormous troll, employed by the owners to keep a measure of order in the place, came out dragging two more limp bodies which he deposited on the cobbles, kicking them once or twice in soft places.
'I reckon they're roistering in there, don't you?' said Tomjon.
'It looks like it,' said Hwel. He shivered. He hated taverns. People always put their drinks down on his head.
They scurried in quickly while the troll was holding one unconscious drinker up by one leg and banging his head on the cobbles in a search for concealed valuables.