Feet of Clay

Carrot turned back to the golem, which had dropped to its knees and was trying to piece its slate together.

'Come on, Mr Dorfl,' he said. 'We'll walk with you the rest of the way.'

'Are you mad?' said Sock, trying to shut the door. 'You think I want that back?'

'He's your property,' said Carrot. 'People were trying to smash him.'

'You should've let them,' said the butcher. 'Haven't you heard the stories? I'm not having one of those under my roof!'

He tried to slam the door again, but Carrot's foot was in it.

'Then I'm afraid you're committing an offence,' said Carrot. 'To wit, littering.'

'Oh, be serious!'

'I always am,' said Carrot.

'He always is,' said Angua.

Sock waved his hands frantically. 'It can just go away. Shoo! I don't want a killer working in my slaughterhouse! You have it, if you're so keen!'

Carrot grabbed the door and forced it wide open. Sock took a step backwards.

'Are you trying to bribe an officer of the law, Mr Sock?'

'Are you insane?'

'I am always sane,' said Carrot.

'He always is,' sighed Angua.

'Watchmen are not allowed to accept gifts,' said Carrot. He looked around at Dorfl, who was standing forlornly in the street. 'But I will buy him from you. For a fair price.'

Sock looked from Carrot to the golem and then back again. 'Buy? For money?'

'Yes.'

The butcher shrugged. When people were offering you money it was no time to debate their sanity. 'Well, that's different,' he conceded. 'It was worth $530 when I bought it, but of course it's got additional skills now —'

Angua growled. It had been a trying evening and the smell of fresh meat was making her senses twang. 'You were prepared to give it away a moment ago!'

'Well, give, yes, but business is busi—'

'I'll pay you a dollar,' said Carrot.

'A dollar? That's daylight robb—'

Angua's hand shot out and grabbed his neck. She could feel the veins, smell his blood and fear … She tried to think of cabbages.

'It's night-time,' she growled.

Like the man in the alley, Sock listened to the call of the wild. 'A dollar,' he croaked. 'Right. A fair price. One dollar.'

Carrot produced one. And waved his notebook.

'A receipt is very important,' he said. 'A proper legal transfer of ownership.'

'Right. Right. Right. Happy to oblige.'

Sock glanced desperately at Angua. Somehow, her smile didn't look right. He scribbled a few hasty lines.

Carrot looked over his shoulder.

I Gerhardt Sock give the barer full and totarl ownership of the golem Dorfl in xchange for One Dolar and anythinge it doz now is his responisbility and nuthing to doe with me.

Singed, Gerhardt Sock.

'Interesting wording, but it does look legal, doesn't it?' said Carrot, taking the paper. Thank you very much, Mr Sock. A happy solution all round, I feel.'

'Is that it? Can I go now?'

'Certainly, and—'

The door slammed shut.

'Oh, well done,' said Angua. 'So now you own a golem. You do know that anything it does is your responsibility?'

'If that's the truth, why are people smashing them?

'What are you going to use it? … or?'

Carrot looked thoughtfully at Dorfl, who was staring at the ground.

'Dorfl?'

The golem looked up.

'Here's your receipt. You don't have to have a master.'

The golem took the little scrap of paper between two thick fingers.

'That means you belong to you,' said Carrot encouragingly. 'You own yourself.'

Dorfl shrugged.

'What did you expect?' said Angua. 'Did you think it was going to wave a flag?'

'I don't think he understands,' said Carrot. 'It's quite hard to get some ideas into people's heads …' He stopped abruptly.

Carrot took the paper out of Dorfl's unresisting fingers. 'I suppose it might work,' he said. 'It seems a bit-invasive. But what they understand, after all, is the words …'

He reached up, opened Dorfl's lid, and dropped the paper inside.

The golem blinked. That is to say, its eyes went dark and then brightened again. It raised one hand very slowly and patted the top of its head. Then it held up the other hand and turned it this way and that, as if it had never seen a hand before. It looked down at its feet and around at the fog-shrouded buildings. It looked at Carrot. It looked up at the clouds above the street. It looked at Carrot again.

Then, very slowly, without bending in any way, it fell backwards and hit the cobbles with a thud. The light faded in its eyes.

'There,' said Angua. 'Now it's broken. Can we go?'

'There's still a bit of a glow,' said Carrot. 'It must have all been too much for him. We can't leave him here. Maybe if I took the receipt out …'

He knelt down by the golem and reached for the trapdoor on its head.

Dorfl's hand moved so quickly it didn't even appear to move. It was just there, gripping Carrot's wrist.

'Ah,' said Carrot, gently pulling his arm back. 'He's obviously … feeling better.'

'Thsssss,' said Dorfl. The voice of the golem shivered in the fog.

Golems had a mouth. They were part of the design. But this one was open, revealing a thin line of red light.

'Oh, ye gods,' said Angua, backing away. 'They can't speak!'

'Thssss!' It was less a syllable than the sound of escaping steam.

'I'll find your bit of slate—' Carrot began, looking around hurriedly.

'Thssss!'

Dorfl clambered to its feet, gently pushed him out of the way and strode off.

'Are you happy now?' said Angua. ‘I’m not following the wretched thing! Maybe it's going to throw itself in the river!'

Carrot ran a few steps after the figure, and then stopped and came back.

'Why do you hate them so much?' he said.