'Assassination?'
Carrot shook his head. 'That doesn't sound right. They like to do it up dose. It's a caring profession,' he added, bitterly.
'What should I do?'
'Burying the poor thing would be a good start.' Carrot turned the metal slug over in his fingers. Then he sniffed it.
'Fireworks,' he said.
'Yes,' said Angua.
'And what are you going to do?' said Queen Molly.
'You're Watchmen, aren't you? What's happening? What are you going to do about it?'
Cuddy and Detritus were proceeding along Phedre Road. It was lined with tanneries and brick kilns and timber yards and was not generally considered a beauty spot which was why, Cuddy suspected, they'd been given it to patrol 'to get to know the city'. It got them out of the way. Sergeant Colon thought they made the place look untidy.
There was no sound but the clink of his boots and the thump of Detritus' knuckles on the ground.
Finally, Cuddy said: 'I just want you to know that I don't like being teamed up with you any more than you like being teamed up with me.'
'Right!'
'But if we're going to have to make the best of it, there'd better be some changes, OK?'
'Like what?'
'Like it's ridiculous you not even being able to count. I know trolls can count. Why can't you?'
'Can count!'
'How many fingers am I holding up, then?'
Detritus squinted.
'Two?'
'OK. Now how many fingers am I holding up?'
'Two . . . and one more . . .'
'So two and one more is . . . ?'
Detritus looked panicky. This was calculus territory.
'Two and one more is three.'
'Two and one more is three.'
'Now how many?'
'Two and two.'
'That's four.'
'Four-er.'
'Now how many?'