Thud

`But the money is not accounted for!'

`Oh yes it is,' said Vimes. `It was stolen by Nobby Nobbs. It always is. He never steals more than four dollars fifty.'

`Would you like me to make an appointment for a disciplinary interview?' said the imp, hopefully.

`Of course not. I'm signing it off now. Er, thank you. Can you add up the other dockets?'

The imp beamed. `Absolutely!'

Vimes left it scribbling happily and walked over to the window.

They don't acknowledge our law and they undermine our city. That's

not just a bunch of deep-downers here to keep their fellow dwarfs on the

straight and narrow. How far do those tunnels go? Dwarfs dig like crazy.

But why here? What are they looking for? As sure as any hell you choose,

there's no treasure trove under this city, no sleeping dragon, no secret

kingdom. There's just water and mud and darkness.

How far do they go? How much- Hold on, we know this, we know

this, don't we? We know about numbers and figures in today's

Watch...

`Imp?' he said, turning round. `Yes, Insert Name Here?'

`You see that big pile of paper in the corner?' said Vimes, pointing. `Somewhere in there are the gate guard reports for the past six months. Can you compare them with last week's? Can you compare

the number of dunny wagons leaving the city?'

'Dunny Wagon Not Found in Root Dictionary. Searching Slang

Dictionary ... mip ... mip ... mip ... Dunny Wagon, n.: cart for

carrying night soil (see also Honey Wagon, Treacle Wagon,

Midnight Special, Gong Wagon and variants,' said the imp.

`That's right,' said Vimes, who hadn't heard the Midnight Special

one before. `Can you?'

`Ooh, yes!' said the imp. `Thank you for using the Dis-Organizer

Mark Five "Gooseberry" the most advanced-'

`Yeah, don't mention it. Just look at the ones for the Hubwards

Gate. That's closest to Treacle Street.'

`Then I suggest you stand back, Insert Name Here,' said the imp.

`Why?'

The imp leapt into the pile. There were some rustling noises, a couple of mice scampered out - and the pile exploded. Vimes backed away hurriedly as papers fountained into the air, borne aloft on a very pale green cloud.

Vimes had instigated record-keeping at the gates not because he had a huge interest in the results, but because it kept the lads on their toes. It wasn't as if it was security duty. Ankh-Morpork was so wide open it was gaping. But the cart census was handy. It stopped watchmen falling asleep at their posts, and it gave them an excuse to be nosy.

You had to move soil. That was it. This was a city. If you were a long way from the river, the only way to do that was on a cart. Blast it, he thought, I should have asked the thing to see if there's been any increase in stone and timber loads, too. Once you've dug a hole in mud, you've got to keep it open

The circling, swooping papers snapped back into piles. The green haze shrank with a faint zzzzp noise, and there was the little imp, ready to explode with pride.

`An extra one point one dunny carts a night over six months ago!' it announced. `Thank you, Insert Name Here! Cogito ergo sum, Insert Name Here. I exist, therefore I do sums!'

`Right, yes, thank you,' said Vimes. Hmm. A bit more than one cart a night? They held a couple of tons, maximum. You couldn't make much of that. Maybe people living near that gate had been really ill lately. But ... what would he do, in the dwarfs' position?

He damn well wouldn't send stuff out of the nearest gate, that's what. Ye gods, if they were tunnelling in enough places, they could dump it anywhere.

`Imp, could you ... Vimes paused. `Look, don't you have some kind of a name?'

`Name, Insert Name Here?' said the imp, looking puzzled. `Oh, no. I am created by the dozen, Insert Name Here. A name would be a bit stupid, really.'

`I'll call you Gooseberry, then. So, Gooseberry, can you give me the same figures for every city gate? And also the numbers of timber and stone carts?'

`It will take some time, Insert Name Here, but yes! I should love to!'

`And while you're about it, see if there were any reports of

subsidence. Walls falling down, houses cracking, that sort of thing?' `Certainly, Insert Name Here. You can rely on me, Insert Name

Here!'

`Snap to it, then!'

`Yes, Insert Name Here! Thank you, Insert Name Here. I think

much better outside the box, Insert Name Here!'

zzzzp. Paper started to fly.

Well, who'd have thought it? Vimes wondered. Maybe the

damned thing could be useful after all.

The speaking tube whistled. He unhooked it and said, `Vimes: `I've got the evening edition of the Times, sir,' said the distant

voice of Sergeant Littlebottom. She sounded worried.

`Fine. Send it up.'

`And there's a couple of people here who want to see you, sir.'

Now there was a guarded tone to her voice.

`And they can hear you?' said Vimes.

`That's right, sir. Trolls. They insist on seeing you personally.

They say they have a message for you.'

`Do they look like trouble?' `Every inch, sir.' `I'm coming down.'

Vimes hung up the tube. Trolls with a message. It was unlikely to

be an invitation to a literary lunch.