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He
rummaged
around
some
more
.
"
And
then
there
’
s
this
.
"
He
held
up
a
shirt
.
"
It
’
ll
protect
you
.
"
Carrot
fingered
it
carefully
.
It
was
made
from
the
wool
of
Ramtop
sheep
,
which
had
all
the
warmth
and
softness
of
hog
bristles
.
It
was
one
of
the
legendary
woolly
dwarf
vests
,
the
kind
of
vest
that
needs
hinges
.
"
Protect
me
from
what
?
"
he
said
.
"
Colds
,
and
so
on
,
"
said
the
king
.
"
Your
mother
says
you
’
ve
got
to
wear
it
.
And
,
er
.
.
.
that
reminds
me
.
Mr
Varneshi
says
he
’
d
like
you
to
drop
in
on
the
way
down
the
mountain
.
He
’
s
got
something
for
you
.
"
His
father
and
mother
had
waved
him
out
of
sight
.
Minty
didn
’
t
.
Funny
,
that
.
She
seemed
to
have
been
avoiding
him
lately
.
He
’
d
taken
the
sword
,
slung
on
his
back
,
sandwiches
and
clean
underwear
in
his
pack
,
and
the
world
,
more
or
less
,
at
his
feet
.
In
his
pocket
was
the
famous
letter
from
the
Patrician
,
the
man
who
ruled
the
great
fine
city
of
Ankh
-
Morpork
.
At
least
,
that
’
s
how
his
mother
had
referred
to
it
.
It
certainly
had
an
important
-
looking
crest
at
the
top
,
but
the
signature
was
something
like
"
Lupin
Squiggle
,
Sec
’
y
,
pp
"
.
Still
,
if
it
wasn
’
t
actually
signed
by
the
Patrician
then
it
had
certainly
been
written
by
someone
who
worked
for
him
.
Or
in
the
same
building
.
Probably
the
Patrician
had
at
least
known
about
the
letter
.
In
general
terms
.
Not
this
letter
,
perhaps
,
but
probably
he
knew
about
the
existence
of
letters
in
general
.
Carrot
walked
steadfastly
down
the
mountain
paths
,
disturbing
clouds
of
bumblebees
.
After
a
while
he
unsheathed
the
sword
and
made
experimental
stabs
at
felonious
tree
stumps
and
unlawful
assemblies
of
stinging
nettles
.
Varneshi
was
sitting
outside
his
hut
,
threading
dried
mushrooms
on
a
string
.
