Feet of Clay

bridge. Vimes nodded hurriedly at the shocked priests and hurried after him. We took him and baked him in the fire and he’s turned out to be free , he thought. No words in the head except the ones he’s chosen to put there himself. And he’s not just an atheist, he’s a ceramic atheist. Fireproof!
    It looked like being a good day.
    Behind them, on the bridge, a fight was breaking out.

    Angua was packing. Or, rather, she was failing to pack. The bundle couldn’t be too heavy to carry by mouth. But a little money (she wouldn’t have to buy much food) and a change of clothes (for those occasions when she might have to wear clothes) didn’t have to take up much room.
    “The boots are a problem,” she said aloud.
    “Maybe if you knot the laces together you could carry them round your neck?” said Cheri, who was sitting on the narrow bed.
    “Good idea. Do you want these dresses? I’ve never got round to wearing them. I expect you could cut them down.”
    Cheri took them in both arms. “This one’s silk! ”
    “There’s probably enough material for you to make two for one.”
    “D’you mind if I share them out? Only some of the lads—the ladies at the Watch House”—Cheri savored the word “ladies”—“are beginning to get a bit thoughtful…”
    “Going to melt down their helmets, are they?” said Angua.
    “Oh, no . But perhaps they could be made into a more attractive design. Er…”
    “Yes?”
    “Um…”
    Cheri shifted uneasily.
    “You’ve never actually eaten anyone, have you? You know…crunching bones and so on?”
    “No.”
    “I mean, I only heard my second cousin was eaten by werewolves. He was called Sfen.”
    “Can’t say I recall the name,” said Angua.
    Cheri tried to grin. “That’s all right, then,” she said.
    “So you won’t need that silver spoon in your pocket,” said Angua.
    Cheri’s mouth dropped open, and then the words tumbled over themselves. “Er…I don’t know how it got there it must have dropped in when I was washing up. Oh I didn’t mean—”
    “It doesn’t worry me, honestly. I’m used to it.”
    “But I didn’t think you’d—”
    “Look, don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not a case of not wanting to,” said Angua. “It’s a case of wanting to and not doing it .”
    “You don’t really have to go, do you?”
    “Oh, I don’t know if I can take the Watch seriously and…and sometimes I think Carrot’s working up to ask me…and, well, it’d never work out. It’s the way he just assumes everything, you know? So best to go now,” Angua lied.
    “Won’t Carrot try to stop you?”
    “Yes, but there’s nothing he can say.”
    “He’ll be upset.”
    “Yes,” said Angua briskly, throwing another dress on the bed. “And then he’ll get over it.”
    “Hrolf Thighbiter’s asked me out,” said Cheri shyly, looking at the floor. “And I’m almost certain he’s male!”
    “Glad to hear it.”
    Cheri stood up. “I’ll walk with you as far as the Watch House. I’ve got to go on-duty.”
    They were halfway along Elm Street before they saw Carrot, head and shoulders above the crowd.
    “Looks like he was coming to see you,” said Cheri. “Er, shall I go away?”
    “Too late…”
    “Ah, good morning, Corporal Miss Littlebottom!” said Carrot cheerfully. “Hello, Angua. I was just coming to see you but I had to write my letter home first, of course.”
    He took off his helmet, and smoothed back his hair. “Er…” he began.
    “I know what you’re going to ask,” said Angua.
    “You do?”
    “I know you’ve been thinking about it. You knew I was wondering about going.”
    “It was obvious, was it?”
    “And the answer’s no. I wish it could be yes.”
    Carrot looked astonished. “It never occurred to me that you’d say no,” he said. “I mean, why should you?”
    “Good grief, you amaze me,” she said. “You really do.”
    “I thought it’d be something you’d want to do.” said Carrot. He sighed. “Oh, well…it doesn’t matter, really.”
    Angua felt that a leg had been kicked away. “It doesn’t matter? ” she said.
    “I mean, yes, it’d have been nice, but I won’t lose any sleep over it.”
    “You won’t?”
    “Well, no. Obviously not. You’ve got other things you want to do. That’s fine. I just thought you might enjoy it. I’ll do it by myself.”
    “What? How can…?” Angua stopped. “What are you talking about, Carrot?”
    “The Dwarf Bread Museum. I promised Mr.