'Hey, pal?' said Wee Mad Arthur. 'Can yer mother sew, pal? Yeah? Then get her to stitch this one!'
He grabbed an eyelid in each hand and thrust his head forward with pin-point precision. There was another crack as the skulls met.
The man with the broken knee tried to drag himself away but Wee Mad Arthur leapt from his stunned comrade and proceeded to kick him. The kicks of a man not much more than six inches high should not hurt, but Wee Mad Arthur seemed to have a lot more mass than his size would allow. Being nutted by Arthur was like being hit by a steel ball from a slingshot. A kick seemed to have all the power of one from a large man, but very painfully concentrated into a smaller area.
'Yez can tell them buggers at the Rat-Catchers' Guild that I works for whoze I want and charges what I like,' he said, between kicks. 'And them shites can stop tryin' to persecute the small businessman...'
The other guild enforcer made it to the end of the alley. Arthur gave Sid a final kick and left him in the gutter.
Wee Mad Arthur walked back to his task, shaking his head. He worked for nothing and sold his rats for half the official rate, a heinous crime. Yet Wee Mad Arthur was growing rich because the guild hadn't got its joint heads around the idea of fiscal relativity.
Arthur charged a lot more for his services. A lot more, that is, from the specialized and above all low point of view of Wee Mad Arthur. What Ankh-Morpork had yet to understand was that the smaller you are the more your money is worth.
A dollar for a human bought a loaf of bread that was eaten in a few bites. The same dollar for Wee Mad Arthur bought the same-sized loaf, but it was food for a week and could then be further hollowed out and used as a bedroom.
The size-differential problem was also responsible for his frequent drunkenness. Few publicans were prepared to sell beer by the thimbleful or had gnome-sized mugs. Wee Mad Arthur had to go drinking in a swimming costume.
But he liked his work. No one could clear out rats like Wee Mad Arthur. Old and cunning rats that knew all about traps, deadfalls and poison were helpless in the face of his attack, which was where, in fact, he often attacked. The last thing they felt was a hand gripping each of their ears, and the last thing they saw was his forehead, approaching at speed.
Muttering under his breath, Wee Mad Arthur got back to his calculations. But not for long.
He spun around, forehead cocked.
'It's only us, Wee Mad Arthur,' said Sergeant Colon, stepping back hurriedly.
'That's Mr Wee Mad Arthur to youse, copper,' said Wee Mad Arthur, but he relaxed a little.
'We're Sergeant Colon and Corporal Nobbs,' said Colon.
'Yeah, you remember us, don't you?' said Nobby, in a wheedling voice. 'We was the ones who helped you when you was fighting them three dwarfs last week.'
'Yez pulled me off 'f them, if that's what you mean,' said Wee Mad Arthur. 'Just when I'd got 'em all down.'
'We want to talk to you about some rats,' said Colon.
'Can't take on any more customers,' said Wee Mad Arthur firmly.
'Some rats you sold to Gimlet's Hole Food Delicatessen a few days ago.'
'What's that to yez?'
'He reckons they was poisoned,' said Nobby, who had taken the precaution of moving behind Colon.
'I never uses poison!'
Colon realized he was backing away from a man six inches high. 'Yeah, well... see ... fing is ... you being in fights and that... you don't get on with dwarfs... some people might say... fing is ... it could look like you might have a grudge.' He took another step back and almost tripped over Nobby.
'Grudge? Why should I have a grudge, pal? It ain't me that gets the kicking!' said Wee Mad Arthur, advancing.
'Good point. Good point,' said Colon. 'Only it'd help, right, if you could tell us ... where you got those rats from...'
'Like the Patrician's palace, maybe,' said Nobby.
'The palace? No one catches rats at the palace. That's not allowed. No, I remember those rats. They wuz good fat ones, I wanted a penny each, but he held out for four for threepence, th' ole skinflint that he is.'
'Where did you get them, then?'
Wee Mad Arthur shrugged. 'Down the cattle market. I do the cattle market Tuesdays. Couldn't tell yez where they came from. Them tunnels guz everywhere, see?'