He poked his head out from under the blanket. Snow stung his eyes. Running alongside the sled, only a few feet away from Carrot and glowing silver in the moonlight, was Gavin.
This is me, thought Gaspode; stuck between the humans and the wolves. It"s a dog"s life.
This is the life, thought Acting Captain Colon. Hardly any paperwork was coming up here now, and by dint of much effort he"d entirely cleared the backlog. It was a lot quieter, too.
When Vimes was here - and Fred Colon suddenly found himself thinking the word "Vimes" without prefixing it with "Mister" - the main office was full of so much noise and bustle you could hardly hear yourself speak. Completely inefficient, that was. How could anyone hope to get anything done?
He counted the sugar again. Twenty-nine. But he"d had two in his tea, so that was all right. Toughness was paying off.
Colon went and opened his door a fraction so that he could just see down into the office. It was amazing how you could catch them out that way.
Quiet. And neat, too. Every desk was clear. Much better than the mess you used to get.
He went back to the desk and counted the sugar lumps. There were twenty-seven.
Ah-ha! Someone was trying to drive him mad. Well, two could play at that game.
He counted the lumps again. There were twenty-six, and there was a knock at the door.
This caused it to swing inwards, and Colon to jump up in evil triumph.
"Ah-ha! Burst in on me, eh? Oh..."
The "oh" was because the knocker was Constable Dorfl, the golem. He was taller than the doorway and strong enough to tear a troll in half; he"d never done this, since he was an intensely moral being, but not even Colon was going to pick an argument with someone who had glowing red holes where his eyes should be. Ordinary golems would riot harm a human because they had magic words in their head that ordered them not to. Dorfl had no magic words but he didn"t harm people because he"d decided that it wasn"t moral. This left the worrying possibility that, given enough provocation, he might think again.
Beside the golem was Constable Shoe, saluting smartly.
"We"ve come to pick up the wages chitty, sir," he said.
"The what?"
"The wages chitty, sir. The monthly chitty, sir. And then we take it to the Palace and bring back the wages, sir."
"I don"t know anything about that!"
"I put it on your desk yesterday, sir. Signed by Lord Vetinari, sir."
Colon couldn"t hide the flicker in his eyes. The black ash in the fireplace was, by now, overflowing.
Shoe followed his gaze.
"I haven"t seen any such thing," said Colon, while the colour drained from his face like a sucked ice-lolly.
"I"m sure I did, sir," said Constable Shoe. "I wouldn"t forget a thing like that, sir. In fact, I distinctly remember saying to Constable Visit, "Washpot, I"m just going to take this - " "
"Look, you can see I"m a busy man!" snapped Colon. "Get one of the sergeants to sort it out!"
"There"s no sergeants left except Sergeant Flint, sir, and he spends all his time going round asking people what he should be doing," said Constable Shoe. "Anyway, sir, it"s the senior officer who must sign the chitty - "
Colon stood up, leaning on his knuckles, and shouted, "Oh, I "must", must I? That"s a nerve and no mistake! "Must", eh? Most of you lot are lucky anyone even gives you a job! Bunch of zombies and loonies and lawn ornaments and rocks! I"ve had it up to here with you!"
Shoe leaned back out of range of the spittle. "Then I"m afraid I must take this up with the Guild of Watchmen, sir," he said.
"Guild of Watchmen? Hah! And since when has there been a Guild of Watchmen?"
"Dunno. What"s the time now?" said Corporal Nobbs, ambling into the room. "Got to be a couple of hours, at least. Morning, captain."
"What are you doing here, Nobby?"