Men at Arms

candelabra toward him and thumped the paper with a finger.
    “Well, look what it says here. I mean, opening those old Watch Houses? On the gates? What’s the point in that? Right out there on the edge?”
    “Oh, I’m sure matters of organization detail can be changed, sir,” said Carrot.
    “Keep a general gate guard, yes , but if you’re going to have any kind of finger on the pulse of…look, you’d need one along Elm Street somewhere, close to the Shades and the docks, and another one halfway up Short Street, and maybe a smaller one in Kingsway. Somewhere up there, anyway. You’ve got to think about population centers. How many men based per Watch House?”
    “I thought ten, sir. Allowing for shifts.”
    “No, can’t do that. Use six at most. A corporal, say, and one other per shift. The rest you’ll move around on, oh, a monthly rota. You want to keep everyone on their toes, yes? And that way everyone gets to walk every street. That’s very important. And…wish I had a map here…oh…thank you, dear. Right. Now, see here. You’ve got a strength of fifty-six, nominal, OK? But you’re taking over day watch too, plus you’ve got to allow for days off, two grandmother’s funerals per year per man—gods know how your undead’ll sort out that one, maybe they get time off to go to their own funerals—and then there’s sickness and so on. So…we want four shifts, staggered around the city. Got a light? Thanks. We don’t want the whole guard changing shift at once. On the other hand, you’ve got to allow each Watch House officer a certain amount of initiative. But we should maintain a special squad in Pseudopolis Yard for emergencies…look, give me that pencil. Now give me that notebook. Right…”
    Cigar smoke filled the room. The little presentation watch played every quarter of an hour, entirely unheeded.
    Lady Sybil smiled and shut the door behind her, and went to feed the dragons.
“Dearest Mumm and Dad,
Well here is Amazing news for, I am now Captain!! It has been a very busy and vareid Week all round as, I shall now recount…”
    And only one thing more…
    There was a large house in one of the nicer areas of Ankh, with a spacious garden with a children’s tree-house in it and, quite probably, a warm spot by the fire.
    And a window, breaking…
    Gaspode landed on the lawn, and ran like hell toward the fence. Flower-scented bubbles streamed off his coat. He was wearing a ribbon with a bow on it, and carrying in his mouth a bowl labelled MR. HUGGY.
    He dug his way frantically under the fence and squirmed into the road.
    A fresh pile of horse droppings took care of the floral smell, and five minutes of scratching removed the bow.
    “Not a bloody flea left,” he moaned, dropping the bowl. “An’ I had nearly the complete set. Whee-ooo! I’m well out of that . Huh!”
    Gaspode brightened up. It was Tuesday. That meant steak-and-suspicious-organs pie at the Thieves’ Guild, and the head cook there was known to be susceptible to a thumping tail and a penetrating stare. And holding an empty bowl in your mouth and looking pathetic was a sure-fire winner, if Gaspode was any judge. It shouldn’t take too long to claw off MR. HUGGY.
    Perhaps this wasn’t the way it ought to be. But it was the way it was.
    On the whole, he reflected, it could have been a lot worse.

About the Author
    Terry Pratchett is one of the most popular living authors in the world. His first story was published when he was thirteen, and his first full-length book when he was twenty. He worked as a journalist to support the writing habit, but gave up the day job when the success of his books meant that it was costing him money to go to work.
    Pratchett’s acclaimed novels are bestsellers in the U.S. and the United Kingdom and have sold more than thirty million copies worldwide. He lives in England, where he writes all the time. (It’s his hobby, as well.)
    Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

Praise
    THE ACCOLADES!
    THE ADORATION!
    Acclaim for Bestselling Author
    Terry Pratchett
    “Unadulterated fun…witty, frequently hilarious. Pratchett parodies everything in sight.”
San Francisco Chronicle
    “Pratchett continues to distinguish himself from his colleagues with clever plot lines and genuinely likable characters.”
Publishers Weekly (*Starred Review*)
    “Think J.R.R. Tolkien with a sharper, more satiric edge.”
Houston Chronicle
    “If I were making my