"This vill only take vun minute," he said.
It never does. Polly watched in horrified fascination as Otto took picture after picture of Lieutenant Blouse in a variety of what the lieutenant thought were heroic poses. It is a terrible thing to see a man trying to jut out a chin he does not, in fact, have.
"Very impressive," said de Worde. "I just hope you live to see it in my paper, sir."
"I shall look forward to it with the keenest anticipation," said Blouse. "And now, Perks, please go along with the sergeant and put these two gentlemen back on their way."
Otto sidled up to Polly as they walked back to the cart. "I need to tell you somezing about your vampire," he said.
"Oh, yes?"
"You are a friend of his?" said Otto.
"Yes," said Polly. "Is something wrong?"
"Zere is a problem..."
"He's got twitchy because he has run out of coffee?"
"Alas, if only it vas that simple." Otto looked awkward. "You have to understand that ven a vampire forgoes... the b-vord, there is a process that ve call transference? Ve force ourselves to desire something else? For me this vas not painful. I crave the perfection of light and shade. Pictures are my life! But your friend chose... coffee. And now he has none."
"Oh. I see."
"I vunder if you do. It probably seemed so sensible to him. It is a human craving, and no one minds if you say, as it might be, 'I am dying for a cup of coffee', or 'I'd kill for a cup of coffee'. But without coffee, he vill, I am afraid... revert. You understand, this is very difficult for me to talk about..." Otto trailed off.
"By revert you mean...?"
"First vill come mild delusions, I think. A psychic susceptibility to all kinds of influences from who knows vhere, and vampires can hallucinate so stronkly zat zey can be contagious. I zink zat is happening already. He vill become... erratic. This may last for several days. And then his conditioning vill break and he vill be, vunce again, a true vampire. No more Mr Nice Coffee Drinker Guy."
"Can't I do anything to help him?"
Otto reverentially laid his picture box in the back of the cart, and turned to her. "You can find him some coffee, or... you can keep a vooden stake and a big knife ready. You vould be doink him a favour, believe me."
"I can't do that!"
Otto shrugged. "Find someone who vill."
"He is amazing!" said de Worde, as the cart rocked back down through the trees. "I know the clacks is against your religion, but he seems to understand all about it."
"Like I said, sir, he assesses stuff," said Jackrum, beaming. "Mind like a razor."
"He was talking about clacks algorithms that the companies are only just now investigating," said de Worde. "That department he was talking about - "
"Ah, I can see nothing gets past you, sir," said Jackrum. "Very hush-hush. Can't talk about it."
"To be frank, sergeant, I'd always assumed that Borogravia was, well... backward."
Jackrum's smile was waxy and bright. "If we seem to be a long way back, sir, it's only so's we can get a good run-up."
"You know, sergeant, it's a great shame to see a mind like that wasted," said de Worde, as the cart lurched in a rut. "This is not an age of heroes and famous last stands and death-or-glory charges. Do your men a favour and try to tell him that, will you?"
"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," said Jackrum. "Here is your road, sir. Where will you be heading now?"
"To the Kneck valley, sergeant. This is a good story, sergeant. Thank you. Allow me to shake you by the hand."
"Glad to hear you think that, sir," said Jackrum, extending his hand. Polly heard the faint clink of coins in their passage from palm to palm. De Worde took the reins.
"But I must tell you, sergeant, that we'll probably send off our stuff by pigeon within the hour," he said. "We will have to say you have prisoners."