Feet of Clay

Littlebottom, I can assure you that you’ll see the resemblance. We work as a team and we’re pretty much making it up as we go along, and half the time we’re not even certain what the law is, so it can get interesting. Technically you’ll rank as a corporal, only don’t go giving orders to real policemen. You’re on a month’s trial. We’ll give you some training just as soon as there’s time. Now, find an iconograph and meet me on Misbegot Bridge in…damn…better make it an hour…I’ve got to see about this blasted coat of arms. Still, dead bodies seldom get deader. Sergeant Detritus!”
    There was a series of creaks as something heavy moved along the corridor outside and a troll opened the door.
    “Yessir?”
    “This is Corporal Littlebottom. Corporal Cheery Littlebottom, whose father was Jolly Littlebottom. Give him his badge, swear him in, show him where everything is. Very good, Corporal?”
    “I shall try to be a credit to the uniform, sir,” said Littlebottom.
    “Good,” said Vimes briskly. He looked at Detritus. “Incidentally, Sergeant, I’ve got a report here that a troll in uniform nailed one of Chrysoprase’s henchmen to a wall by his ears last night. Know anything about that?”
    The troll wrinkled its enormous forehead. “Does it say anything ’bout him selling bags of Slab to troll kids?”
    “No. It says he was going to read spiritual literature to his dear old mother,” said Vimes.
    “Did Hardcore say he saw dis troll’s badge?”
    “No, but he says the troll threatened to ram it where the sun doesn’t shine,” said Vimes.
    Detritus nodded gravely. “Dat’s a long way to go just to ruin a good badge,” he said.
    “By the way,” said Vimes, “that was a lucky guess of yours, guessing that it was Hardcore.”
    “It come to me in a flash, sir,” said Detritus. “I fort: what bastard who sells Slab to kids deserves bein’ nailed up by his ears, sir, and…bingo. Dis idea just formed in my head.”
    “That’s what I thought.”
    Cheery Littlebottom looked from one impassive face to the other. The Watchmen’s eyes never left each other’s face, but the words seemed to come from a little distance, as though both of them were reading an invisible script.
    Then Detritus shook his head slowly. “Musta been a impostor, sir. ’S easy to get helmets like ours. None of my trolls’d do anything like dat. Dat would be police brutality, sir.”
    “Glad to hear it. Just for the look of the thing, though, I want you to check the trolls’ lockers. The Silicon Anti-Defamation League are on to this one.”
    “Yes, sir. An’ if I find out it was one of my trolls I will be down on dat troll like a ton of rectang’lar buildin’ things, sir.”
    “Fine. Well, off you go, Littlebottom. Detritus will look after you.”
    Littlebottom hesitated. This was uncanny. The man hadn’t mentioned axes, or gold. He hadn’t even said anything like “You can make it big in the Watch.” Littlebottom felt really unbalanced.
    “Er…I did tell you my name, didn’t I, sir?”
    “Yes. Got it down here,” said Vimes. “Cheery Littlebottom. Yes?”
    “Er…yes. That’s right. Well, thank you, sir.”
    Vimes listened to them go down the passage. Then he carefully shut the door and put his coat over his head so that no one would hear him laughing.
    “Cheery Littlebottom!”

    Cheery ran after the troll called Detritus. The Watch House was beginning to fill up. And it was clear that the Watch dealt with all sorts of things, and that many of them involved shouting.
    Two uniformed trolls were standing in front of Sergeant Colon’s high desk, with a slightly smaller troll between them. This troll was wearing a downcast expression. It was also wearing a tutu and had a small pair of gauze wings glued to its back.
    “—happen to know that trolls don’t have any tradition of a Tooth Fairy,” Colon was saying. “Especially not one called”—he looked down—“Clinkerbell. So how about it we just call it breaking and entering without a Thieves’ Guild license?”
    “It’s racial prejudice, not letting trolls have a Tooth Fairy,” Clinkerbell muttered.
    One of the troll guards upended a sack on the desk. Various items of silverware cascaded over the paperwork.
    “And this is what you found under their pillows, was it?” said Colon.
    “Bless dere little hearts,” said Clinkerbell.
    At the next desk a tired dwarf was arguing with a vampire. “Look,” he said, “it’s not