'It's slow, then,' said Sergeant Colon. 'All the others just struck, you couldn't miss 'em.'
'My cousin Jorgen makes ones like these,' said Cuddy. 'They keep better time than demons or water clocks or candles. Or those big pendulum things.'
'There's a spring and wheels,' said Carrot.
'The important bit,' said Cuddy, taking an eyeglass from somewhere in his beard and examining the watch carefully, 'is a little rocking-thingummy that stops the wheels from going too fast.'
'How does it know if they're going too fast?' said Angua.
'It's kind of built-in,' said Cuddy. 'Don't understand it much myself. What's this inscription here . . .'
He read it aloud.
' “A Watch From, Your Old Freinds in the Watch”?'
'It's a play on words,' said Carrot.
There was a long, embarrassed silence.
'Um. I chipped in a few dollars each from you new recruits,' he added, blushing. 'I mean . . . you can pay me back when you like. If you want to. I mean . . . you'd be bound to be friends. Once you got to know him.'
The rest of the Watch exchanged glances.
He could lead armies, Angua thought. He really could. Some people have inspired whole countries to great deeds because of the power of their vision. And so could he. Not because he dreams about marching hordes, or world domination, or an empire of a thousand years. Just because he thinks that everyone's really decent underneath and would get along just fine if only they made the effort, and he believes that so strongly it burns like a flame which is bigger than he is. He's got a dream and we're all part of it, so that it shapes the world around him. And the weird thing is that no-one wants to disappoint him. It'd be like kicking the biggest puppy in the universe. It's a kind of magic.
'The gold's rubbing off,' said Cuddy. 'But it's a good watch,' he added quickly.
'I was hoping we could give it to him tonight,' said Carrot. 'And all go out for a . . . drink . . .'
'Not a good idea,' said Angua.
'Leave it until tomorrow,' said Colon. 'We'll form a guard of honour at the wedding. That's traditional. Everyone holds their swords up in a kind of arch.'
'We've only got one sword between us,' said Carrot glumly.
They all stared at the floor.
'It's not fair,' said Angua. 'I don't care who stole whatever they stole from the Assassins, but he was right to try to find out who killed Mr Hammerhock And no-one cares about Lettice Knibbs.'
'I like to find out who shoot me,' said Detritus.
'Beats me why anyone'd be daft enough to steal from the Assassins,' said Carrot. 'That's what Captain Vimes said. He said you'd have to be a fool to think of breaking into that place.'
They stared at the floor again.
'Like a clown or a jester?' said Detritus.
'Detritus, he didn't mean a cap-and-bells Fool,' said Carrot, in a kindly voice. 'He just meant you'd have to be some sort of idi—'
He stopped. He stared at the ceiling.
'Oh, my,' he said. 'It's as simple as that?'
'Simple as what?' said Angua.
Someone hammered at the door. It wasn't a polite knock. It was the thumping of someone who was either going to have the door opened for them or break it down.
A guard stumbled into the room. Half his armour was off and he had a black eye, but he was just recognizable as Skully Muldoon of the Day Watch.
Colon helped him up.
'Been in a fight, Skully?'
Skully looked up at Detritus, and whimpered.
'The buggers attacked the Watch House!'
'Who?'
'Them!'
Carrot patted him on the shoulder.
'This isn't a troll,' he said. 'This is Lance-Constable Detritus – don't salute. Trolls attacked the Day Watch?'
'They're chucking cobbles!'
'You can't trust 'em,' said Detritus.
'Who?' said Skully.
'Trolls. Nasty pieces of work in my opinion,' said Detritus, with all the conviction of a troll with a badge. 'They need keeping a eye on.'
'What's happened to Quirke?' said Carrot.
'I don't know! You lot have got to do something'.'
'We're stood down,' said Colon. 'Official.'
'Don't give me that!'
'Ah,' said Carrot, brightly. He pulled a stub of pencil out of his pocket and made a little tick in his black book. 'You still got that little house in Easy Street, Sergeant Muldoon?'
'What? What? Yes! What about it?'
'Is the rent worth more than a farthing a month?'
Muldoon stared at him with his one operating eye.
'Are you simple or what?'
Carrot gave him a big smile. 'That's right, Sergeant Muldoon. Is it, though? Worth a farthing, would you say?'
'There's dwarfs running around the streets looking for a fight and you want to know about property prices?'
'A farthing?'
'Don't be daft! It's worth at least five dollars a month!'
'Ah,' said Carrot, ticking the book again. 'That'd be inflation, of course. And I expect you've got a cooking pot . . . do you own at least two-and-one-third acres and more than half a cow?'
'All right, all right,' said Muldoon. 'It's some kind of joke, right?'
'I think probably the property qualification can be waived,' said Carrot. 'It says here that it can be waived for a citizen in good standing. Finally, has there been, in your opinion, an irreparable breakdown of law and order in the city?'
'They turned over Throat Dibbler's barrow and made him eat two of his sausages-inna-bun!'
'Oh, I say!' said Colon.
'Without mustard!'
'I think we can call that a Yes,' said Carrot. He ticked the page again, and closed the book with a definite snap.
'We'd better be going,' he said.
'We were told—' Colon began.
'According to the Laws and Ordinances of Ankh-Morpork,' said Carrot, 'any residents of the city, in times of the irreparable breakdown of law and order, shall, at the requeft of an officer of the city who is a citizen in good standing – there's a lot of stuff here about property and stuff, and then it goes on – form themfelves into a militia for city defence.'
'What does that mean?' said Angua.
'Militia . . .' mused Sergeant Colon.
'Hang on, you can't do that!' said Muldoon. 'That's nonsense!'
'It's the law. Never been repealed,' said Carrot.