Progress Quest

[Sly Fly]

"Understand your enemy" replied Vail quietly.

"Exactly. And if you had bothered to do any research* you would have discovered that the librarian was in fact an ape, and maybe then you wouldn't have triggered any alarms, and maybe then he wouldn't have seen you, and maybe then they wouldn't be looking for a PERSON FITTING YOUR DESCRIPTION !!!" he shouted.

"Yes master. I have failed you and deserve punishment."

"Indeed... Your punishment will be to stay away from Brandon Longbeard until I say otherwise, and to reflect upon your recent poor performance and learn from your mistakes."

"Yes master."

"Good. Now go."

"Yes master." With that, Vail stood up and walked over and opened the door.

"Make sure you rest well, Vail. I will call for you in a few days time. You have important work ahead of you."

"It will be an honour to serve you again, my Lord."

And with that, Vail walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. The house was empty as he walked down the stairs and along the hallways. The guards at the door were gone, and there was no one patrolling the outside of the house. The sky was dark, and pouring with rain as he made his way out of the grounds and started his journey home, thinking about what his master had just said. Vail did not know exactly how Brandon and the book he had stolen would be connected, or, come to that matter, what the book actually was. With his enhanced memory, Vail could remember all the sigils and runes on the cover in precise detail, but did not know what ancient language they were written in. Considering he had a few days time off, he thought it would be well spent researching the translation of these symbols. Perhaps then he might better understand the connection behind the book and Brandon...


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*It so happened that Brandon did do his research into who worked at the Unseen University, but because the people of Ankh-Morpork have become so accustomed to him being the librarian, it never crossed their mind to point out he was in fact an ape. The librarian's real name is long-forgotten, and is now simply known as 'the librarian'. In fact, if anyone ever said they had seen an orang-utan up at the university, most people would rush up there to see what they were talking about.

[Sly Fly]

It had been a restless night for Mitch Crevice. He had laid awake in bed for the better part of the night trying to figure out how to get himself out of the situation he'd gotten into. He only realised some time after the event how stupid he was in taking Dibbler's money and running off. Although his intention was to make Brandon happy by returning with his first proper payment, all he'd actually done was to jeopardise Brandon's reputation as being an honest smithy. If that happened Mitch wouldn't be able to live with himself.

He finally decided, right there and then, that the only proper thing to do was to go to Brandon and tell him exactly what had happened. If the dwarf decided to fire him, then he would accept that. Mitch just couldn't face lying to the most honest person he had ever met. He got up from bed and was shocked to find that the candleclock had burnt down to eight o'clock in the morning. He quickly washed and dressed, and ran down the stairs, out of the house without so much as a word to his mother, and on to work. He was thinking over his course of action in his mind while he was running, and he knew he had made the right choice. Lying to a person only led to more lies to cover up the initial lie. If he was open and honest about his mistake, Brandon might forgive him and he'd get another chance.

He rounded the c.orner to Quality Street and headed over to the forge. These days he didn't have to squint and concentrate to make the forge appear - it seemed as though the building was getting used to him. He stopped running to get his breath back, and opened the door.

"Morning Brandon" he shouted. "Sorry I'm la..."

Mitch voice faltered suddenly when he saw Cut Me Own Throat Dibbler standing next to Brandon over by the drinks cabinet.

"There he is." said Dibbler, pointing over at Mitch. The salesman drained the last of his brandy and put the glass down. "I need to go and quickly check on my cart now, but I hope you give him what he deserves Brandon." He walked over to Mitch, who saw that he had a very satisfied smile on his face. "Goodbye... Mitch" Dibbler said slowly, and closed the door behind him.

Mitch tried to say something, but fear had made his throat dry up.

"No need to say anything lad." said Brandon. "Dibbler told me what happened. He told me everything."

[Sly Fly]

Dibbler had beaten him to it. There was no way he could admit his guilt now, as it would seem to Brandon as though Mitch only wanted to apologise because he'd been caught. He let out a big sigh with breath he never knew he was holding, and realised it would be best to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"I wasn't thinking Brandon... I... I just acted on impulse and... and the money was just there for the taking and even though I KNEW you wouldn't be happy I had to... I just had to..."

"...refuse payment and tell him to come and see me in the morning." smiled Brandon.

"I did?" stammered Mitch

"I'm proud of you lad. You upheld the principles I've been teaching you, and in doing so you've earned a customers respect. He was very surprised when you refused to take his money after he noticed something wrong with the cart. He told me that most people in Ankh-Morpork would have just grabbed the money and run off like a common thief! To think that my Mitch would ever go and do a stupid thing like that I told him! 'Dibbler,' I said, 'There's no way that boy would let down the honourable and trustworthy name of Brandon's Forge'. And it was good thinking of you to tell him to come and see me in the morning. Very good thinking! You knew that would build on the customer relationship and might lead to more work in the future - and you were right! He came in at eight o'clock this very morning with a proposal for some new work! Major work as well! Our first regular customer, and it's all thanks to you and your honesty Mitch."

Mitch could not respond to this because his brain had pressed the 'big red button' and shut down the entire body. It was refusing to process any new information on account that what it had just heard couldn't possibly be true and therefore Mitch was dreaming, and therefore Mitch must be still be asleep, and therefore it, the brain, must be sleep-thinking. As an experiment, it commanded one of the eyelids to open slowly, and saw that the forge owner was still standing there, staring at Mitch. The forge owner's mouth was opening and closing quickly, but because there was no power to the ears, it couldn't hear what he was saying. The only thing left to do was to save the current memory and turn itself off and on again. Hopefully this new information will either be gone or understood when the brain booted back up again.

A couple of seconds later, Mitch passed out and fell to the floor.

[Sly Fly]

At the time it seemed like a good idea, Fred thought. A simple enough plan that had a fair chance of working. He was proud of his plan too. It wasn't often Fred thought of plans, and even less often did he do anything about them. Plans meant responsibility, and responsibility inevitably led to promotion, and Fred wasn't interested in being promoted. A cash bonus was what he wanted. A reward for his work that he could spend in the local pub. Fred lent against the fence in the alleyway he and Nobby were hiding in, rubbed his chin, and wondered where the idea had started to fall apart. After a moments thought he knew it had been back at their makeshift headquarters. He should have stopped the whole thing right then...

"I look like a right berk in this Fred."

"I'm sure you don't Nobby." said the Sergeant pacing up and down the bedroom. He'd rented out the best room the Mended Drum had to offer, turning it into an office of sorts. "You've been back there for over half an hour! Come on out and let's take a look at you."

Corporal Nobby Nobbs stepped out from behind the privacy screen, and Fred took a step back and screamed.

"Told you I look like a berk."

"No... no you don't. You er... look er... I mean you don't look that bad at all!" lied Fred. Nobby was wearing a full-length light blue flowery dress and white cardigan, with a large black bonnet that covered not only his face, but most of his head as well. The overall effect could be described as being somewhere between confusing and nauseous, but what made Fred shudder most of all was the two dirty-grey boot toes sticking out from underneath the hem of the dress. "You can't go round with those on Nobby."

"Why not?"

"Why? 'Cause it will spoil the effect won't it."

"WHAT EFFECT?" cried Nobby.

"Well, I think, looking like you are now, you might just pass for being Mrs Hollow. You're the right height, the right build, and so long as you keep that hat on they'll never know. But it won't work if they hear you clomping up to the pie shop wearing standard issue watchman boots now will it? So get in those fancy blue shoes what we bought and practise walking like what the posh ladies does!"

"'kay Sarge. This is never gonna work you know. We should scrap this stupid plan." grumbled Nobby, and clomped off behind the screen.

Fred stood there thinking for a few seconds. "I think you're right Corporal."

"I am? asked Nobby

"Yeah. You do look like a right berk in that."

And now, an hour later, here he was with a cross-dressing Corporal, ready to make the jump on the unsuspecting Eva Hollow - the reporter who was buying pies from a pie shop, but not eating them. The simple enough plan was for them to kidnap - apprehend Fred corrected himself - the woman on suspicion of something he hadn't yet decided, and then for Nobby to take her place. He would then purchase a pie from Mrs Miggin's Pie Shop, and report back to Fred whereupon they would see if anything dodgy was going on. What he had not considered was that Nobby didn't sound anything like Mrs Hollow and that he walked like pregnant duck with a severe case of dysentery.

"This strap is really chafing my chin Sarge." whispered Nobby.

"Well, you can take it off for now. Just make sure you're wearing it when you go to the pie shop."

Nobby removed his bonnet, and Fred screamed. Due to the confines of the alleyway he couldn't take a step back, so he screamed some more. "Good GODS! What... the hell... is that on your face?" gasped Fred.

The Corporal looked to the ground. "'s make-up Sarge" he said sheepishly. Nobby hardly ever took his helmet off, even when he went to sleep - and the odd times he did take it off, his face had been so dirty it was impossible to make out any features. To get a close up of his face not only clean but with make-up on was a sight Fred knew would haunt him forever. "I just thought it would help get me into the spirit of things. One of the ladies at the Drum helped me wivvit when you were having a few bevvies."

"I was on an intelligence gathering mission Nobby. Lots of gossip going on down by the bar. Got to make sure we keep an ear out for any strange goings on."

"The only strange goings on," said Nobby replacing his bonnet, "is some prat dressed up as a hoity-toity woman hiding in an alleyway getting ready to buy a pie!"

"Well I didn't hear you come up with any ideas on how to... hang on... did you hear that? I think she's coming! Quick get ready!"

[Sly Fly]

Fred poked his head round the c.orner of the alleyway, and there was Eva walking toward them. He nodded to Nobby, and both of them crouched down. The footsteps came closer and closer, but it was only when the woman was level with them did the two of them pounce. Fred slapped a hand over her mouth to stop Eva screaming, and Nobby grabbed her legs. Together with Fred - who now had both arms looped underneath her armpits - they carried her into the alleyway and set her down onto the ground

"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM??" demanded the woman when Fred had removed his hand.

"No." lied Fred.

"I am Miss Eva Hollow, reporter for a very well known tabloid newspaper!"

"Oh. Do you know who we are?" asked Nobby.

"No." replied Miss Hollow.

"Good." said Nobby, and covered her mouth with one of his handkerchiefs. After a few seconds of muffled screams and Miss Hollow waving her arms around, she had passed out and was snoring gently upon the muddy floor of the alleyway.

"What's on the tissue?" asked Fred. "Chloroform? Ammonia?"

"Eau du Nobby." replied Nobby.

Fred knew when to let certain matters drop, and this was definitely one of them. "Right. Okay, off you go then Corporal. Good luck."

With a quick salute, the new Miss Hollow turned around, walked out of the alleyway and immediately fell over.

"BUGGER!" shouted Nobby as he picked himself up off the floor. These BUGGERING heels are a BUGGER to walk in. Can't believe I'm wearing this buggering thing and doing this stupid buggering job making me look like a complete buggering berk." shouted Nobby walking up the street.

Fred leant back on the fence and closed his eyes. While the snores of the nearby Miss Hollow filled his ears, he wondered how he could explain a failed operation, a drugged reporter, and a cross dressing corporal to Commander Vimes without getting sacked.

"'evenin' Mr. Cologne. 'sthere anyfin I can do for you?"

Fred looked down to find Miniature Morris suddenly standing beside him, staring at the now dormant Miss Hollow. Morris was the leader of the Morphic Street boys, a young but ruthless gang of kids who operated all over the city. Rumour had it that both the Assassins and the Theives Guild were already impressed with some of their work, and that the two of them were competing to sign the group up.

"Hello Morris. Decided which one of the guilds you want to join yet?"

"neiver of 'em Mr. Cologne sir. We dabbling wiv the idea of establishing our own exclusive organisation wivvin Ankh-Morpork sir Mr. Cologne sir." replied the young lad, who could be quite articulate when he felt like it.

"Oh I see. And it's Colon by the way Morris." added Fred. "Well, whatever you decide, I trust you won't be giving the Watch any trouble eh lad?" laughed the Sergeant. Morris just smiled at him. It was an innocent sort of smile, but one which suggested that, if he so wished, his organisation could operate completely undetected.

"Er.. there is one thing you could do for me actually Morris" coughed Fred, breaking the uneasy silence.

"No problem Mr. Cologne sir."

"Excellent." replied the Watchman, ignoring the mispronunciation of his name yet again, and fished around in his pocket for a coin. "Here's a shiny tuppence for your troubles."

"I couldn't do it fer less than sixpence sir Mr. sir." said Morris upon seeing just the one bronze coloured coin.

"Sixpence? I thought we'd agreed the going rate was tuppence!"

"That's right. Tuppence fer the job. And tuppence for not tellin' anyone about you beating up the posh lady wot is lying here in the alley."

"Wha...? We apprehended her on suspicion of a crime Morris. Watchmen do not go around "beating people up". And besides, that only comes to fourpence."

"'s sir, but it'll be anuvver tuppence for not telling anyone the Wotch is going around dressin' up as ladies, wiv all doo respect Mr sir Cologne sir, sir."

Fred thought very quickly for any kind of excuse but failed to come up with one. "Nobby has... some problems, Morris." Fred stopped and thought some more. "Nobby has a lot of problems actually, but it wouldn't be very nice to tell the whole of the city about this particular problem would it?"

"No sir. 's just that we're being paid a penny a day from a newspaper wot I cannot mention to tell 'em about any strange goings on."

"I see. And what you're saying is tuppence would help you... forget... that you ever saw anything."

"Yes Mr. Cologne, and your kindly donation will also help us fund our new guild."

Not having any recourse open to him, Fred opened his wallet and took out a silver sixpence. Normally he would have bartered Morris down to half that amount, but seeing that the Watch would be paying, he could afford to be a bit more generous. "Okay Morris," sighed Fred as he handed over the coin, " but I hope you remember this in the future!"

"Morris don't forget his friends." the boy replied, as he pocketed his payment. "What is it you'd like me to do sir?"

Fred bent down and whispered something in Morris' ear.

"Ah. Ver' clever Mr. Cologne sir. I'll see to it personally that the task is carried out properly. Good luck in your investigations, and have a nice time up at the Unseen University."

"It's COLON Morris, and we're not going to go anywhere near those damn wizards."

Morris smiled at him. "Are you sure Mr Colon sir? It might be very illuminating..." he said with a slight wink. Then he turned around and ran off down the alley, leaving the confused Watchman behind him. The Unseen University was the premiere Wizarding School in all of Discworld, and had been responsible for creating both gifted wizards and for freeing huge terrifying demons from the Dungeon Dimensions*. The Watch had never trusted wizards, and the wizards had never liked the Watch meddling in their business. The uneasy relationship was maintained by one ignoring the other and leaving them to clear up their own mess - and it was a relationship Fred had no intention of interfering with.

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*But as the chancellor of the University once pointed out 'You can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs'.**


**Whereupon the residents of Ankh-Morpork pointed out 'Sod your bloody omelet then!'

[Sly Fly]

Nobby was not having a good time.

He had so far mastered the art of falling over only every three steps, ripped his dress in several places, and had broken the heel off his right shoe. Worse was the fact that everyone had started staring at him. Not just a surreptitious glance in his direction, but more a blatant gawk of disbelief. Cats hissed when he passed, dogs barked, and even the rats squeaked and ran away. Some children were beginning to point at him. Well, Nobby mumbled to himself, at least it can't get any worse.

And then his hat blew off.

To his horror - and to everyone else's who happened to be looking at him - a freak gust of wind lifted the bonnet off his head, and another took it over the roof of a nearby guildhouse. As the hat drifted out of sight behind some clouds Nobby swore under his breath. "Fan... fupping... tastic" he sighed. Judging by Fred's reaction, Nobby's make-up wasn't going to fool anyone, and now his only means of camouflage was well on its way into space*.

"Excuse me young miss, would you like a chance to sample one of the finest pies in Ankh-Morpork?" said a voice nearby.

Nobby closed his eyes and shook his head. Why now, he thought. Why does he have to choose to talk to me now - I'll never live this one down. He turned around and sure enough the ironed-on innocent face of CMOT Dibbler stared back at him. There was also a huge troll and a long queue of people behind him.

"Rat onna stick? Sausage inna bun?"

"No thank you Dibbler. Just mov..."

"I see my reputation proceeds me! Perhaps a slice or two of my special kebobcat grill for the young lady then?" said Dibbler hopefully.

"Very funny. I'm still on duty you know so I could..."

"On duty?"

"Stop buggering around Dibbler, or I'll tell Fred you've been obstructing an operation run by The Specials."

Dibbler purposefully paused for a few seconds, and, using a skill honed with years of feigning ignorance said "Nobby? Is that you?" If there had been a new-born lamb standing right next to Dibbler, with a fleece whiter than the whitest snow, it still would have had some way to go to match the salesman's innocence. Nobby, being Nobby, fell for it completely. Even though Dibbler had customers coming out of his ears, he knew the importance of spending time to keep on the right side of the Watch. He'd learnt that giving away a hot pie now and again to a freezing-cold Watchman on the midnight-beat could be really helpful a week or two down the road, as Dibbler often ended up in the cells for the odd night after a 'misunderstanding' with a customer.

"That's Corporal Nobbs to you Dibbler. I'm on duty as I said. Except not right now... er... because I'm in disguise. And don't go making fun of the dress either! It's an undercover operation." Nobby noticed that Dibbler was staring at his face. "Don't... even... think about it..." said Nobby slowly.

"Your dedication to the job is admirable Corporal." replied Dibbler. "Your secret's safe with me" he added, and for unnecessary emphasis, tapped his nose with his finger. "Mighty fine disguise if I may say so sir. Completely fooled old Dibbler you did. Allow me to buy you something on the house. GRUBBAL!" the salesman shouted. The enormous troll which had been standing behind him grunted, and slowly knelt down on all fours. Nobby could now see for the first time that the troll had Dibbler's cart strapped to his back.

"Why have you replaced your wheels with a troll?" asked Nobby.

"Slight accident." replied the salesman. "What'll it be? Rat burger or chicken onna stick?"

Nobby squinted. "How chicken is the chicken?"

"Guaranteed fifty percent chicken Corporal."

What's the other fifty percent then?"

"Stick." replied Dibbler without batting an eyelid.

"Go on then." replied Nobby who had suddenly felt peckish.

"There you go" said the other, as he handed over a steaming mound of white flesh. It looked suspicious to say the least. "See you later Cor- I mean Miss. GRUBBAL!" shouted Dibbler again as he turned back to the troll, "FOLLOW. FOLLOW DIBBLER." The troll grunted and moved off as the salesman set off and made his way into the merchant quarter of the city. Most of the queue also followed, but others looked around as if they had just been hit over the head with a truncheon. One by one they looked around a bit sheepishly, mumbled an excuse and made their way home.


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*The bonnet, carried by warm updrafts and mysterious air currents, continued its airborne journey around the Disc for another week before eventually coming to rest on a small piece of desolate land hundreds of miles away where the Mage Wars of the First Age took place. After two years of soaking up the magical energy that littered the ravaged land, it got bored contemplating the meaning of life and traveled across the Discworld for several years atop the heads of various personages cunningly disguised as an ordinary hat. It eventually found happiness in a mansion in Sto Lat where it settled down with a very respectable fedora called Kenneth.

[Sly Fly]

With the belief that Dibbler failed to recognise him, Nobby set off to Mrs Miggin's Pie Shop with renewed determination. He was one half of The Specials God dammit, which meant he could do anything - he wasn't going to let Fred down and come back empty handed. If he had been paying attention - and Nobby wasn't as usual - he would have realised that the closer he got to the shop, the more often people screamed and ran away. By the time he actually approached the door there was no-one left inside except for Mr Rancid the baker.

This is it he told himself. Time to get the job done. He was about to step inside when he remembered he was still holding Dibbler's untouched chicken onna stick. Thinking that very few women (who are in fact men) go into a shop holding a stick full of chicken (which is in fact... better left unidentified), Nobby decided it would be wise to eat it before going in. He took a bite and realised all too late what he had done. He turned around to spit it out, but noticed that a group of people had suddenly gathered to watch him. Not wanting to give away his lady-like masquerade, he smiled feebly and, with extraordinary effort, chewed the meat instead of vomiting all over the pavement.

The crowd waited anxiously.

Nobby winced and swallowed the meat.

The Discworld hicupped.

"Hmm, lovely" the Watchman lied to the onlooking spectators. They were genuinely curious as to what would happen next as no person (debate was still ongoing amongst the crowd as to whether the woman in the dress could indeed be classed as a woman) had ever managed two mouthfuls of Dibbler's chicken let alone one.

Ans then a passing dog suddenly came to his rescue. That's a bit lucky, Nobby thought to himself. "Oooh, but I can't be having this all to myself." said the watchman in a ridiculously high pitched voice. "I'm such a nice lady that I think I'll let this little starving doggie have the rest." whereupon he bent down and dropped it on the floor.

The dog picked up the meat in its mouth and said "Fank oo verre uch" before running off into in a nearby alley.

Nobby was absolutely stunned. It was the first time he'd ever seen something happy to be given food from Dibbler.

Disappointed that the strange thing in a dress wasn't, in fact, going to be eating any more of the chicken, the crowd dissipated and Nobby was left alone outside the pie shop. He took a deep breath, reached for the handle, and opened the door. Inside, the pie shop was bigger than expected, with wooden tables and benches on both sides. Windows lined the wall facing the street, allowing the people walking by to see just how lovely the freshly baked goods were, suggesting they come inside. On the other hand, right now the passers-by could also see just how frightening its occupant was, suggesting they go straight home and have a few stiff drinks. Because he hadn't been paying attention Nobby was surprised to see he was the only customer in the shop and so, after clearing his throat, he walked up to the counter. Nobody seemed to be around behind the counter either so he coughed loudly.

"Heh-hem. Hexcuse me, but hi was wundering hif hi could have one hoff your pies please" squeaked Nobby.

There was a splosh sound from a room at the back, followed by a strangled cry. "What the bloody 'ell? Argh. Mmmrrfmf. ARRRGH. 'Ooo the hell's that?" said a voice from the back of the shop.

"Hits Miss Hollow. Hi've come for my... heh-hem... special pie"

"Don't sound like you Eva. nnnnNNNGGGGGGGG. What's wrong with your voice?"

"Er. Hi've come down with ha spot hoff the um... Morpork Ricketts. Gone straight to my throat." whereupon Nobby coughed wheezily.

"Ricketts? Throat?" asked Mr Rancid, followed by more sploshing sounds.

"Yes. Nasty little blighter hit his. Could be contagious. Wouldn't get too close hif hi were you." Nobby responded, hoping it would encourage the other not to come out.

"Er. Yes. Ha-ha. Funny you should say that, actually, because I um... I'm sort of stuck right now." laughed the shopkeep nervously.

Nobby blinked. "What do hyou mean, stuck?" asked Nobby suspiciously.

"Well, begging your pardon miss, but my arse is stuck in the toilet here."

[Sly Fly]

"Hexcuse me?" replied Nobby after a moments pause.

"I'd just dozed off, and when you called out you sort of startled me, and I er... can't really believe it myself, but I fell in and now I can't get out." Mr Rancid said with resignation.

"Hoh. Hi see." Nobby paused for a few seconds. "Do you need any hel-"

"No no no! No thank you! Heh. Not really looking my best if you understand."

Nobby couldn't believe his good fortune. This was turning out to be a lot easier than he expected. "Well I ham rather busy. Lot's to do you know. So hif you could just tell me where my special pie his, hif you know what hi mean."

"Ah yes. Roight. URRRRrrgggghh Ohitsnogood. Yes, the pie. Look, I shouldn't be giving it to you in this sort of situation you know. I need the proper handshake and everything."

"I hunderstand perfectly." said Nobby. "Hi will just come hin there hand prove to you that-"

"NO! No it's fine really. Just... just take the pie. It's the one underneath the counter in the white wrapping paper."

Nobby went behind the counter and grabbed the pie. "Thank hyoo." he trilled, and rushed out of the shop before the shopkeep could say anything. He walked as fast as he could back to Fred without attracting attention, and then, when he realised it would be impossible him to attract any less attention, broke into a sprint and ran for it. After six inches he got up off of the floor, threw his shoes away, and ran for it again.
"I've got it!" wheezed Nobby as he turned into the alley a few minutes later.

"Excellent work N - YAAAAARRRGGHH!" screamed Fred as he turned round. Nobby's dash for the alley had made his make-up run, and, against all the odds, looked even worse than when he left.

"What's happened to your hat?? What's happened to your face??" whispered Fred as took a step back. "I order you to take all make-up off immediately!"

Nobby took some tissues out of Eva Hollow's bag and began to wipe his make-up off. "Glad to get rid of it Sarge."

"Nice work Corporal." said Fred as he was handed the pie. "Nice work indeed. Did it all go according to plan?"

Nobby recounted what had happened while Fred listened patiently and occasionally looked at the pie. "Hmm." mused Fred when the report had finished. "Tell me again - exactly how many barbarians did you have to fight your way through to get to the pie shop?"

"Nine." replied Nobby

"And this was before or after you rescued a beautiful princess from the clutches of an evil Klatchian Warlord who just happened to be passing by?"

"Er. Before." replied the Corporal.

"Nobby."

"Yes Fred?"

"None of that really happened did it?"

"Well, I may have slightly exaggerated the number of assassins that tried to kill me, but the rest is absolutely straight down the line Sarge."

"Nobby, you wouldn't be telling fibs to a superior officer now would you? That's hardly behaviour befitting one of The Specials is it?"

"'s sir" replied Nobby, whereupon he proceeded to recount an only slightly embellished version of what happened.

"Bit lucky there Nobbs. No offence, but without the bonnet you wouldn't have fooled Blind Hugh let alone the storekeep." Fred looked at the pie. From what they had observed, Miss Hollow always threw the pie away and kept the wrapper. He didn't know what Nobby had used to anaesthetise her with, but she didn't look as though she was going to be coming round anytime soon. And besides, even if he could question her he didn't think it would be a good idea to be around when she did wake up.

"Okay. Let's get back to the Mended Drum and see what's so important about this wrapper then."

"Right Sarge. Er... Sarge?"

"Yes Nobby?"

"Are we just going to leave her here alone in the alleyway?"

"'course not. I've paid Miniature Morris to keep an eye on her." replied Fred walking towards the 'Drum. "She'll be okay."
The hatless Corporal wasn't so sure about that. Most people had a headache for at least a week after experiencing Eau du Nobby.

[Sly Fly]

Ali was running through the streets of Ankh-Morpork, oblivious to the fact than in just over three minutes he was going to die. He owned a small farm a couple of miles outside the city, but, like all farmers, he ventured into the over-crowded Guild sector once a season to negotiate a price with merchants for his farm goods. He was running because Ali was late for a very important meeting with a high-council member from the Guild of Merchants.

He turned into Chimney Street, and sprinted past a factory on the left hand side. Unfortunately, Ali couldn't see the strange figure ahead of him because he didn't have the right sort of mind. Had he the right sort of mind, the sort that was open and didn't dismiss things outside his comprehension, he would have been concerned to see a black-cloaked figure holding a scythe at the end of the road. As it was he ran straight towards him, much to the bemusement of some nearby cats*.

Death watch impassively as the young man ran toward him. He withdrew a small timer from beneath his cloak, and looked at it in the sunlight. The timer was a simple one, but was adorned by small carvings of farmyard animals around the wooden frame. Death, however, was not admiring the carvings. The Grim Reaper was watching the last few grains of Ali's life slowly trickle away. He didn't even pay any attention to the creaking noise of the bricks above him, that would soon cause the chimney to collapse on the unsuspecting farmer. Ali was looking out for signs to the Guild sector and didn't notice the chimney support finally give way, sending a mass of concrete and bricks hurtling toward the ground directly in his path. Death raised his scythe ready to perform his duty and send the young man into the next life. As the last grain of Ali's life disappeared down the timer, five tons of rubble smashed against the road, and Death swung down and cut through... thin air.

Ali, who had tripped over a loose cobblestone a few feet short of the accident stood up, and, with the exception of a bruised knee, was completely unharmed.

WHY AREN'T YOU DEAD? asked Death matter-of-factly.

The farmer absent-mindedly brushed himself off and inspected the chimney - or what used to be the chimney - that now lay in thousands of pieces. He then looked up to where it had been, happily pouring poisonous gases into Ankh-Morpork. It slowly dawned on him that by all accounts he should be dead.

BY ALL ACCOUNTS YOU SHOULD BE DEAD. said Death, who couldn't in fact read minds, but had an uncanny knack of knowing what people were thinking in these situations.

The farmer, who couldn't see never mind hear what Death was saying, said a small prayer to Offler the crocodile God, thanked him for looking over him this O Glorious Day, and then ran off again in the direction of the Guild sector.

COME BACK. grated Death. THE TIMER IS NEVER WRONG, AND THIS ONE... Death began to say, but stopped. He looked at the timer again, and there, right in the middle of the neck of the timer was a single grain of sand. And it was stuck. Death stared at it while he thought of what to do. Failing to come up something that didn't involve ripping the fabric of time and space and altering reality - which would take a good few hours he didn't really have - he simply shook the timer.

But no matter how hard he jiggled and rattled it, the particle would not loosen. Death was becoming irritated. Even in his vast lifetime, he had never seen this happen before. He was just about to see where Binky had got to when he noticed a small piece of paper on the ground, that had fallen out of Ali's pocket when he fell over.

Death reached down and picked up the scrap with long skeletal fingers. He took the ball and carefully smoothed out the paper. There were a few stains on it, but along the top was printed "A Qualitie Product From Dibblurs Peyes". He let the paper fall to the ground and the sky above him seemed somehow to darken. The blue pinpricks in his eyesockets flared up and became as bright as supernovas.

SO THAT IS THE REASON said Death, and stormed off find his warhorse.


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*Cats are the only animals on the Discworld that can see Death in real life. Philosophers say it is because of their links with wizards, witches and ancient kings buried in pyramids, but they are totally wrong. The real reason is that all cats do is sleep and eat, and very rarely worry where their next nap or meal is coming from. This frees up a lot of space in the heads, and without normal human worries such as 'Where did I leave my keys' they have no problem in seeing the supernatural. It is because of their simplicity that Death granted them nine lives, and not, he insists, because they are cute.