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"
I
hope
so
,
"
said
Nobby
.
He
nodded
to
the
troll
which
was
employed
by
the
Drum
as
a
splatter
,
"
Eve
-
nin
’
,
Detritus
.
Just
showing
the
new
lad
the
ropes
.
"
The
troll
grunted
,
and
waved
a
crusted
arm
.
The
inside
of
the
Mended
Drum
is
now
legendary
as
the
most
famous
disreputable
tavern
on
the
Disc
-
world
,
and
such
a
feature
of
the
city
that
,
after
recent
unavoidable
redecorations
,
the
new
owner
spent
days
recreating
the
original
patina
of
dirt
,
soot
and
less
identifiable
substances
on
the
walls
and
imported
a
ton
of
pre
-
rotted
rushes
for
the
floor
.
The
drinkers
were
the
usual
bunch
of
heroes
,
cut
throats
,
mercenaries
,
desperadoes
and
villains
,
and
only
microscopic
analysis
could
have
told
which
was
which
.
Thick
coils
of
smoke
hung
in
the
air
,
perhaps
to
avoid
touching
the
walls
.
The
conversation
dipped
fractionally
as
the
two
guards
wandered
in
,
and
then
rose
to
its
former
level
.
A
couple
of
cronies
waved
to
Nobby
.
He
realised
that
Carrot
was
busy
.
"
What
you
doin
’
?
"
he
said
.
"
And
no
talkin
’
about
mothers
,
right
?
"
"
I
’
m
taking
notes
,
"
said
Carrot
,
grimly
.
"
I
’
ve
got
a
notebook
.
"
"
That
’
s
the
ticket
,
"
said
Nobby
.
"
You
’
ll
like
this
place
.
I
comes
here
every
night
for
my
supper
.
"
"
How
do
you
spell
’
contravention
’
?
"
said
Carrot
,
turning
over
a
page
.
"
I
don
’
t
,
"
said
Nobby
,
pushing
through
the
crowds
.
A
rare
impulse
to
generosity
lodged
in
his
mind
.
"
What
d
’
you
want
to
drink
?
"
