Thud

`Then don't tell 'em,' said Vimes. `You're the ... smelter, it's up to you what, er, tools you use. Seen this?' He waved the report about the three officers he was trying not to think of as deserters.

`Yes, Sir. I was meaning to talk to you about that. It might help if we changed the patrols a bit,' said Carrot.

`How do you mean?,

'Er, it would be quite easy to arrange the patrol schedules so that trolls and dwarfs don't have to go on the beat together, sir. Um ... some of the lads say they'd be a bit happier if we could. .

Carrot let the sentence die away in the stony glare.

`We've never paid any attention to an officer's species when we do the roster, captain,' said Vimes coldly. `Except for the gnomes, of course.

`There's your precedent, then-' Carrot began.

`Don't be daft. A typical gnome room is about twice the size of a shoebox, captain! Look, you can see this idea is nuts. Dangerous nuts, too. We'd have to patrol troll with troll, dwarf with dwarf and human with human-'

`Not necessarily, sir. Humans could patrol with either of the others.'

Vimes rocked his chair forward. `No, they couldn't! This is not about common sense, this is about fear! If a troll sees a dwarf and a human patrolling together, he'll think: "There's the enemy, two against one." Can't you see where this is going? When a copper's in a tight corner and blows his whistle for back-up, I don't want him demanding that when it arrives it's the right damn shape!' He calmed down a little, opened his notebook, and tossed it on to the desk. `And talking of shapes, do you know what this means? I spotted it in the mine, and a dwarf called Helmclever scrawled it in some spilt coffee, and you know what? I think he was only half aware that he'd done it.'

Carrot picked up the notebook and regarded the sketch solemnly for a moment.

`Mine sign, sir,' he said. `It means "the Following Dark".'

`And what does that mean?'

`Er, that things are pretty bad down there, sir,' said Carrot earnestly. `Oh dear.' He put the notebook down slowly, as if half afraid that it might explode.

`Well, there has been a murder, captain,' Vimes pointed out.

`Yes, Sir. But this might mean something worse, sir. Mine-sign is a very strange phenomenon.'

`There was a sign like it over the door, only there was just one line and it was horizontal,' Vimes added.

`Oh, that'd be the Long Dark rune, sir,' said Carrot dismissively. `It's just the symbol for a mine. Nothing to worry about.'

`But this other one is? Is it anything to do with grags sitting in a room surrounded by lighted candles?'

It was always nice to surprise Carrot, and this time he looked amazed. `How did you work that out, sir?'

`It's only words, captain,' said Vimes, waving a hand. "'The Following Dark" doesn't sound good. Time to stay brightly lit, maybe? When I met them they were surrounded by candles. I thought maybe it was some kind of ceremony.'

`Could be,' Carrot agreed, carefully. `Thank you for this, sir. I'll go prepared.'

As Carrot reached the door, Vimes added, `One thing, captain?' `Yes, sir?'

Vimes didn't look up from the sandwich, out of which he was daintily separating the fragments of L and the T from the crispy B. `Just remember you're a copper, will you?' he said.

Sally knew something was up as soon as she got back into the locker room, in her shiny new breastplate and soup-bowl helmet. Coppers of various species were standing around trying to look nonchalant. Coppers are never any good at this.

They watched as she approached her locker. She opened the door, therefore, with due care. The shelf was full of garlic.

Ah. It starts, and so soon, too. Just as well she'd been prepared ...

Here and there, behind her, she heard the faint coughs and throat-clearings of people trying not to laugh. And there was smirking going on; a smirk makes a subtle noise if you're listening for it.

She reached into the locker with both hands and pulled out two big fat bulbs. All eyes were on her, all coppers were motionless as she walked slowly around the room.

The reek of garlic was strong on one young constable, whose big

grin was suddenly caked with nervousness at the corners. He had the

look about him of the kind of fool who'd do anything for a giggle. `Excuse me, constable, but what is your name?' she said meekly.

`Er ... Fittly miss. ..'

`Are these from you?' Sally demanded. She let her canines extend just enough to notice.

`... er, only a joke, miss. .

`Nothing funny about it,' said Sally sweetly. `I like garlic. I love

garlic. Don't you?'

`Er, yeah,' said the unhappy Fittly. `Good,' said Sally.

With a speed that made him flinch, she rammed a bulb into her

mouth and bit down heavily. The crunching was the only sound in

the locker room.

And then, she swallowed.

`Oh dear, where are my manners, constable?' she said, holding

out the other bulb. `This one's yours . .

Laughter broke out around the room. Coppers are like any other

mob. The table's been turned, and this way round it's funnier. It's a

bit of a laugh, a bit of fun. No harm done, eh?