Men at Arms

humans generally have.”
    Nobby subsided.
    “There’s one thing that’s true at least,” he said. “You dwarfs really love gold, don’t you?”
    “Of course we don’t. Don’t be silly.”
    “Well—”
    “We just say that to get it into bed.”

    It was in a clown’s bedroom. Colon had occasionally wondered what clowns did in private, and it was all here—the overlarge shoe tree, the very wide trouser press, the mirror with all the candles round it, some industrial-sized sticks of make-up…and a bed which looked like nothing more complicated than a blanket on the floor, because that’s what it was. Clowns and fools weren’t encouraged to live the soft life. Humor was a serious business.
    There was also a hole in the wall, just big enough to admit a man. A little pile of crumbling bricks was heaped next to it.
    There was darkness on the other side.
    On the other side, people killed other people for money.
    Carrot stuck his head and shoulders through the hole, but Colon tried to pull him back.
    “Hang on, lad, you don’t know what horrors lie beyond these walls—”
    “I’m just having a look to find out.”
    “It could be a torture chamber or a dungeon or a hideous pit or anything!”
    “It’s just a student’s bedroom, sergeant.”
    “You see?”
    Carrot stepped through. They could hear him moving around in the gloom. It was Assassin’s gloom, somehow richer and less gloomy than clown’s gloom.
    He poked his head through again.
    “No one’s been in here for a while, though,” he said. “There’s dust all over the floor but there’s footprints in it. And the door’s locked and bolted. On this side.”
    The rest of his body followed Carrot.
    “I just want to make sure I fully understand this,” he said to Dr. Whiteface. “Beano made a hole into the Assassins’ Guild, yes? And then he went and exploded that dragon? And then he came back through this hole? So how did he get killed?”
    “By the Assassins, surely,” said Dr. Whiteface. “They’d be within their rights. Trespass on Guild property is a very serious offense, after all.”
    “Did anyone see Beano after the explosion?” said Carrot.
    “Oh yes. Boffo was on gate duty and he distinctly remembers him going out.”
    “He knows it was him?”
    Dr. Whiteface looked blank.
    “Of course.”
    “How?”
    “How? He recognized him, of course. That’s how you know who people are. You look at them and you say…that’s him. That’s called re-cog-nit-ion,” said the clown, with pointed deliberation. “It was Beano. Boffo said he looked very worried.”
    “Ah. Fine. No more questions, doctor. Did Beano have any friends among the Assassins?”
    “Well…possibly, possibly. We don’t discourage visitors.”
    Carrot stared at the clown’s face. Then he smiled.
    “Of course. Well, that about wraps it all up, I think.”
    “If only he’d stuck to something, you know, original ,” said Dr. Whiteface.
    “Like a bucket of whitewash over the door, or a custard pie?” said Sergeant Colon.
    “That’s right!”
    “Well, we might as well be going,” said Carrot. “I imagine you don’t want to lay a complaint about the Assassins?”
    Dr. Whiteface tried to look panicky, but this did not work very well under a mouth painted into a wide grin.
    “What? No! I mean—if an Assassin broke into our Guild, I mean, not on proper business, and stole something, well, we’d definitely consider we were within our rights to, well—”
    “Pour jelly into his shirt?” said Angua.
    “Hit him around the head with a bladder on a stick?” said Colon.
    “Possibly.”
    “Each Guild to their own, of course,” said Carrot. “I suggest we might as well be going, sergeant. Nothing more for us to do here. Sorry to have troubled you, Dr. Whiteface. I can see this must have been a great strain on you.”
    The clown was limp with relief.
    “Don’t mention it. Don’t mention it. Happy to help. I know you have your job to do.”
    He ushered them down the stairs and into the courtyard, bubbling with small talk now. The rest of the Watch clanked to attention.
    “Actually…” said Carrot, just as he was being ushered out of the gate, “there is one thing you could do.”
    “Of course, of course.”
    “Um, I know it’s a bit cheeky,” said Carrot, “but I’ve always been very interested in Guild customs…so…do you think someone could show me your museum?”
    “Sorry? What museum?”
    “The clown museum?”
    “Oh, you mean