Feet of Clay

about the poisoned candles?” said Carrot.
    “That wasn’t my idea!”
    “Whose idea was it?”
    Carry’s crossbow swung back and forth. He licked his lips. “This has all gone far too far,” he said. “I’m getting out.”
    “Whose idea, Mr. Carry?”
    “I’m not going to end up in some alley somewhere with as much blood as a banana!”
    “Now then, we wouldn’t do anything like that,” said Carrot.
    Mr. Carry was exporting terror. Angua could smell it streaming off him. He might pull the trigger out of sheer panic.
    There was another smell, too. “Who’s the vampire?” she said.
    For a moment she thought the man would fire the crossbow. “I never said anything about him!”
    “You’ve got garlic in your pocket,” said Angua. “And the place reeks of vampire.”
    “He said we could get the golem to do anything,” Carry mumbled.
    “Like making poisoned candles?” said Carrot.
    “Yes, but he said it’d just keep Vetinari out of the way,” said Carry. He seemed to be getting a tenuous grip on himself. “And he’s not dead, ’cos I’d have heard,” he said. “I shouldn’t think making him ill is a crime, so you can’t—”
    “The candles killed two other people,” said Carrot.
    Carry started to panic again. “Who?”
    “An old lady and a baby in Cockbill Street.”
    “Were they important?” said Carry.
    Carrot nodded to himself. “I was almost feeling sorry for you,” he said. “Right up to that point. You’re a lucky man, Mr. Carry.”
    “You think so?”
    “Oh, yes. We got to you before Commander Vimes did. Now, just put down the crossbow and we can talk about—”
    There was a noise. Or, rather, the sudden cessation of a noise that had been so pervasive that it had no longer been consciously heard.
    The clacking line had stopped. There was a chorus of little waxy thuds as the hanging candles swung and hit one another, and then silence unrolled. The last candle dropped off the line, tumbled down the heap in the hopper, and bounced on the floor.
    And in the silence, the sound of footsteps.
    Carry started to back away. “Too late!” he moaned.
    Both Carrot and Angua saw his finger move.
    Angua pushed Carrot out of the way as the claw released the string, but he had anticipated this and his hand was already flinging itself up and across. She heard the sickening, tearing noise as his palm whirled in front of her face, and his grunt as the force of the bolt spun him round.
    He landed heavily on the floor, clutching his left hand. The crossbow bolt was sticking out of the palm.
    Angua crouched down. “It doesn’t look barbed, let me pull—”
    Carrot grabbed her wrist. “The point’s silver! Don’t touch it!”
    They both looked up as a shadow crossed the light.
    The king golem looked down at her.
    She felt her teeth and fingernails begin to lengthen.
    Then she saw the small round face of Cheri peering nervously around a pile of crates. Angua fought down her werewolf instincts, screamed “Stay right there!” at the dwarf and at every swelling hair follicle, and hesitated between pursuing the fleeing Carry and dragging Carrot to safety.
    She told her body again that a wolf-shape was not an option. There were too many strange smells, too many fires…
    The golem glistened with tallow and wax.
    She backed away.
    Behind the golem she saw Cheri look down at the groaning Carrot and then up at a fire-axe hooked on the wall. The dwarf took it down and weighed it vaguely in her hands.
    “Don’t try—” Angua began.
    “ T’dr’duzk b’hazg t’t! ”
    “Oh, no!” moaned Carrot. “Not that one!”
    Cheri came up behind the golem at a run and hacked at its waist. The axe rebounded but she pirouetted with it and caught the statue on the thigh, chipping off a piece of clay.
    Angua hesitated. Cheri’s axe was making blurred orbits around the golem while its wielder yelled more terrible battle cries. Angua couldn’t make out any words but many dwarf cries didn’t bother with words. They went straight for emotions in sonic form. Chips of pottery ricocheted off the crates as each blow landed.
    “What did she yell?” Angua said, as she pulled Carrot out of the way.
    “It’s the most menacing dwarf battle-cry there is! Once it’s been shouted someone has to be killed!”
    “What’s it mean?”
    “Today Is A Good Day For Someone Else To Die!”
    The golem watched the dwarf incuriously, like an elephant watching an attack by a rogue chicken.
    Then it picked the