'More often than not, point of fact.'
'Really?'
Gaspode whimpered a little.
'You want to be careful, you know. A young bitch like you can meet real trouble in this dog's city.'
They had reached the wooden jetty behind Hammer-hock's workshop.
'How d'you—' Angua paused.
There was a mixture of smells here, but the overpowering one was as sharp as a saw.
'Fireworks?'
'And fear,' said Gaspode. 'Lots of fear.'
He sniffed the planks. 'Human fear, not dwarf. You can tell if it's dwarfs. It's the rat diet, see? Phew! Must have been real bad to stay this strong.'
'I smell one male human, one dwarf,' said Angua.
'Yeah. One dead dwarf.'
Gaspode stuck his battered nose along the line of the door, and snuffled noisily.
'There's other stuff,' he said, 'but it's a bugger what with the river so close and everything. There's oil and . . . grease . . . and all sorts – hey, where're you going?'
Gaspode trotted after her as Angua headed back to Rime Street, nose close to the ground.
. . . I mean, I've nothing against Mrs Cake, a lovely woman, one of the best. . . but. . . well. . . you must have noticed . . .'
'Noticed what?'
'Well. . . she's not very . . . you know . . . choosy.'
'Sorry. I'm still not with you.'
'You must have seen some of the other guests? I mean, doesn't Reg Shoe still have lodgings there?'
'Oh, said Angua, 'you mean the zombie.'
'And there's a banshee in the attic.'
'Mr Ixolite. Yes.'
'And there's old Mrs Drull.'
'The ghoul. But she's retired. She does children's party catering now.'
'I mean, doesn't it strike you the place is a bit odd?'
'But the rates are reasonable and the beds are clean.'
'I shouldn't think anyone ever sleeps in them.'
'All right! I had to take what I could get !'
'Sorry. I know how it is. I was like that myself when I first arrived here. But my advice is to move out as soon as it's polite and find somewhere . . . well . . . more suitable for a young lady, if you know what I mean.'