Snuff

Regret of the Falling Leaf had filled the world with noise. Now she appeared to empty it with silence. She said, bitterly and, come to that, curiously, considering the fact that her great-grandson had said she didn’t know much Ankh-Morporkian, ‘Found in goblin cave, oh yes! Found on end of shovel, oh yes! Bad cess to him!’

‘No!’ Suddenly Carrot was face to face with the goblin woman. ‘It came to him by accident, like a curse. He never wanted it and he didn’t know what it was. He found it in a cigar.’

There was a pause in which, presumably, the old woman was doing some complex thinking, because she said, ‘Would you pay me my price, Mister Po-leess-man?’

‘We gave you the brandy,’ said Angua.

‘Indeedy, wolf whelp, but that was for consultation only. Now it’s price for diagnosis and cure, which will be from the Snuff Mill, two pounds of sweet raspberry, one pound of angler’s chum, and one pound of Dr Varies’ medicated upright mixture, just the job on a winter’s day.’ Something like a laugh escaped from the old goblin woman’s mouth. ‘Glad of the fresh air,’ she added. ‘My lad he gets around and about and says you are trustworthy, but goblins have learned not to rely on word, so we will seal the bargain the old way, which we have all understood since time was time.’

The bewildered Billy stood back as a long hand with longer fingernails extended towards Carrot, who spat on his own hand and slapped it, with no thought of health and safety, on to the palm of Regret of the Fallen Leaf, who cackled again. ‘That can’t be broke, that, it can’t be broke. Never.’ After a moment’s hesitation she said in an offhand voice, ‘Wash hand after using.’

There was a glug from the brandy bottle, and Billy Slick’s old granny went on, ‘A pot of tears, you say?’ Angua nodded. ‘If so, only one meaning. A poor goblin woman, a starving woman, had to eat her newborn baby, because she could not feed it. I hear you stop breathing for a moment. That such things happen? Is awful truth, oh yes. Is often awful truth in bad country when times are hard and food is nothing. And so, weeping, she carved a little unggue pot for soul of her baby and cried life into it and sent it away until better times when baby will come back.’

Quietly, Carrot said, ‘Could you tell us anything more, madam?’

The old goblin was silent for a moment and then said, ‘Inside cigar, wrapped in tobacco? Ask the man who sell tobacco!’

Billy turned his granny’s brandy bottle upside down and not a drop came out.

‘One last thing, please, madam: how can we help our friend? By the sound of it he’s dreaming that he’s a goblin!’

Little black eyes shone as the goblin said, ‘I trusting you for tobacco. Now trusting you for another bottle of brandy. Find goblin cave! Find goblin maiden! Only such a one will be able to grasp the pot, in hope one day of having child! So it goes, no other way. And big problem for you, Mister Po-leess-man, is that goblin girl these days are hard to find. None here. Maybe none anywhere. We shrivel and shrink like old leaves. Goodbye until more brandy. No! Make that Cognac from Quirm. Special Reserve. Sixty dollars if bought from Horrids on Broadway or two-for-one deal at Twister Boote’s bottle shop in the Shades. Slight taste of anchovy, but no questions asked and none answered.’

The old voice went silent, and gently the watchmen came back to the stuff of reality around them, troubling images fading into recent memory.

Carrot managed to say, ‘I’m so sorry to have to ask, but will this harm my sergeant? He seems to be having continuous nightmares and we can’t get the pot out of his hand!’

‘Three bottle of brandy, Mister Po-leess-man?’ translated Billy.

Carrot nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘How long pot had him?’

Carrot looked at Angua. ‘About two days, madam.’

‘Then get your man to a goblin cave as quick as you can, Mister Po-leess-man. He may live. He may die. Either way, three bottle of brandy, Mister Po-leess-man.’ Small black eyes twinkled at Carrot. ‘So nice to meet a real gentleman. Hurry up, Mister Po-leess-man.’

The old lady slumped back into her mound of pillows and rugs. The audience was over, just like the brandy.

‘Granny likes you,’ said Billy, his voice full of awe, as he ushered them out. ‘I can tell. She never threw anything at you. Better get her the snuff and the brandy pretty soon, however, otherwise she might get a bit stroppy in an occult sort of way, if you hear what I’m saying, or rather, of course, what I ain’t saying. Nice to meet you folks, but old man King doesn’t like to see people not working.’

‘Excuse me, Billy,’ said Carrot, grabbing him by his skinny arm. ‘Are there any goblin caves anywhere around here?’

‘You got what you wanted, officer. There ain’t none, as far as I know. I don’t care. You could try up-country, that’s my advice, but I really don’t care. If you find a goblin cave on a map you can bet your teeth there won’t be any goblins there any more, not live ones, at least.’