Men at Arms by Terry Pratchett

drinks. Very slowly, like a mighty sequoia beginning the first step towards resurrection as a million Save The Trees leaflets, Detritus toppled backward with his mug still in his hand. Apart from the 90 ° change in position, he didn’t move a muscle.
    “It’s the sulphur,” said Cuddy, without looking around. “It goes right to their heads.”
    Carrot thumped his fist on the bar.
    “We ought to do something!”
    “We could nick his boots,” said Nobby.
    “I mean about Mr. Hammerhock.”
    “Oh, yeah, yeah,” said Nobby. “You sound like old Vimesy. If we was to worry about every dead body in this town—”
    “But not like this!” snapped Carrot. “Normally it’s just…well…suicide, or Guild fighting, stuff like that. But he was just a dwarf! Pillar of the community! Spent all day making swords and axes and burial weapons and crossbows and torture implements! And then he’s in the river with a great big hole in his chest! Who’s going to do anything about it, if not us?”
    “You been putting anything in your milk?” said Colon. “Look, the dwarfs can sort it out. It’s like Quarry Lane. Don’t stick your nose where someone can pull it off and eat it.”
    “We’re the City Watch,” said Carrot. “That doesn’t mean just that part of the city who happens to be over four feet tall and made of flesh!”
    “No dwarf did it,” said Cuddy, who was swaying gently. “No troll, neither.” He tried to tap the side ofhis nose, and missed. “The reason being, he still had all his arms and legs on.”
    “Captain Vimes’ll want it investigated,” said Carrot.
    “Captain Vimes is trying to learn to be a civilian,” said Nobby.
    “Well, I’m not going to—” Colon began, and got off his stool.
    He hopped. He jumped up and down a bit, his mouth opening and shutting. Then the words managed to come out.
    “My foot!”
    “What about your foot?”
    “Something stuck in it!”
    He hopped backward, clutching at one sandal, and fell over Detritus.
    “You’d be amazed what can get stuck to your boots in this town,” said Carrot.
    “There’s something on the bottom of your sandal,” said Angua. “Stop waving it about, you silly man.”
    She drew her dagger.
    “Bit of card or something. With a drawing pin in it. You picked it up somewhere. Probably took a while for you to tread it through…there.”
    “Bit of card?” said Carrot.
    “There’s something written on it…” Angua scraped away the mud.
    “GONNE”
    “What does that mean?” she said.
    “I don’t know. Something’s gone, I suppose. Perhaps it’s Mr. Gonne’s visiting card, whoever he is,” said Nobby. “Who cares? Let’s have ano—”
    Carrot took the card and turned it over and over in his hands.

    “Save the pin,” said Cuddy. “You only get five of them for a penny. My cousin Gimick makes them.”
    “This is important,” said Carrot, slowly. “The captain ought to know about this. I think he was looking for it.”
    “What’s important about it?” said Sergeant Colon. “Apart from my foot hurting like blazes.”
    “I don’t know. The captain’ll know,” said Carrot stubbornly.
    “You tell him, then,” said Colon. “He’s staying up at her ladyship’s now.”
    “Learning to be a gentleman,” said Nobby.
    “I’m going to tell him,” said Carrot.
    Angua glanced through the grubby window. The moon would be up soon. That was one trouble with cities. The damn thing could be lurking behind a tower if you weren’t careful.
    “And I’d better be getting back to my lodgings,” she said.
    “I’ll accompany you,” said Carrot, quickly. “I ought to go and find Captain Vimes in any case.”
    “It’ll be out of your way…”
    “Honestly, I’d like to.”
    She looked at his earnest expression.
    “I couldn’t put you to the trouble,” she said.
    “That’s all right. I like walking. It helps me think.”
    Angua smiled, despite her desperation.
    They stepped out into the softer heat of the