Men at Arms

Brother Beano stole the gonne.”
    “Did he steal the gonne?”
    “I think he may have, yes.”
    “But he died before the gonne was stolen!” said Colon.
    “Yes,” said Carrot. “I know that.”
    “Now that,” said Colon, “is what I calls an alibi .”
    The squad formed up and, after a brief discussion among the trolls as to which was their left foot and which was their right, marched away. Nobby kept looking back longingly to the fire machine.
    Sometimes it’s better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness.

    Ten minutes later they’d pushed through the crowds and were outside the Guilds.
    “See?” Carrot said.
    “They back on to each other,” said Nobby. “So what? There’s still a wall between them.”
    “I’m not so sure,” said Carrot. “We’ll jolly well find out.”
    “Have we got time?” said Angua. “I thought we were going to see the Day Watch.”
    “There’s something I must find out first,” said Carrot. “The Fools haven’t told me the truth .”
    “Hang on a minute, hang on a minute,” said Sergeant Colon. “This is going altogether just a bit too far by half. Look, I don’t want us to kill anyone, right? I happen to be sergeant around here, if anyone’s interested. Understand, Carrot? Nobby? No shooting or swordplay. It’s bad enough barging into Guild property, but we’ll get into really serious trouble if we shoot anyone. Lord Vetinari won’t stop at sarcasm. He might use”—Colon swallowed—” irony . So that’s an order. What do you want to do, anyway?”
    “I just want people to tell me things,” said Carrot.
    “Well, if they don’t, you’re not to hurt them,” said Colon. “Look, you can ask questions, fair enough. But if Dr. Whiteface starts getting difficult, we’re to come away, right? Clowns give me the creeps. And he’s worst of all. If he won’t answer, we’re to leave peacefully and, oh, I don’t know, think of something else. That’s an order, like I said. Are you clear about this? It’s an order.”
    “If he won’t answer my questions,” said Carrot, “I’m to leave peacefully. Right.”
    “So long as that’s understood.”
    Carrot knocked on the Fools’ door, reached up, caught the custard pie as it emerged from the slot and rammed it back hard. Then he kicked the door so that it swung inward a few inches.
    Someone behind it said “Ow.”
    The door opened a bit further to reveal a small clown covered in whitewash and custard.
    “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
    “I just wanted to get into the spirit of the thing,” said Carrot. “I’m Corporal Carrot and this is the citizens’ militia, and we all enjoy a good laugh.”
    “’Scuse me—”
    “Except for Lance-Constable Cuddy. And Lance-Constable Detritus enjoys a good laugh too, although some minutes after everyone else. And we’re here to see Dr. Whiteface.”
    The clown’s hair rose. Water squirted from his buttonhole.
    “Have—have you got an appointment?” he said.
    “I don’t know,” said Carrot. “Have we got an appointment?”
    “I’ve got an iron ball with spikes on,” Nobby volunteered.
    “That’s a morningstar, Nobby.”
    “Is it?”
    “Yes,” said Carrot. “An appointment is an engagement to see someone, while a morningstar is a large lump of metal used for viciously crushing skulls. It is important not to confuse the two, isn’t it, Mr.—?” He raised his eyebrows.
    “Boffo, sir. But—”
    “So if you could perhaps run along and tell Dr. Whiteface we’re here with an iron ball with spi—What am I saying? I mean, without an appointment to see him? Please? Thank you.”
    The clown scuttled off.
    “There,” said Carrot. “Was that all right, sergeant?”
    “He’s probably going to be satirical , even,” said Colon, morosely.
    They waited. After a while Lance-Constable Cuddy took a screwdriver from his pocket and inspected the custard-pie-throwing machine bolted to the door. The rest of them shuffled their feet, except for Nobby, who kept dropping things on his.
    Boffo reappeared, flanked by two muscular jesters who didn’t look as though they had a sense of humor at all .
    “Dr. Whiteface says there’s no such thing as a city militia,” he ventured. “But. Um. Dr. Whiteface says, if it’s really important he’ll see some of you. But not the trolls or the dwarf. We heard there’s gangs of trolls and dwarfs terrorizing the city.”
    “Dat’s what they say,” said Detritus,