Turtle Recall: The Discworld Companion ... So Far Read online

  Shoe, Reg. A zombie, former mortuary worker, currently a member of the WATCH but perhaps most famously the founder of the FRESH START CLUB, whose premises are at 668 Elm Street, Ankh-Morpork. He lodges with Mrs CAKE. It doesn’t matter what you say when talking to Reg Shoe, because Reg supplies your side of the conversation from somewhere inside his head.

  He has a pallid skin, big protruding eyes and he wears a ‘Glad To Be Grey’ badge. His clothes look as if they’ve been washed in razor blades and smell as though someone has not only died in them but is still in them. This is, of course, the case.

  Before his death, Reg used to live in Whalebone Lane. In those days, his clothing tended towards the more romantic black trousers, frilly shirt, sash and long curly hair look, since he was a revolutionary or, rather would have been a revolutionary if any real revolutionary cadre had been insane enough to know where they met. Apart from his involvement in the events of Night Watch, not much is known about what Reg did when he was alive, but his tireless activities on behalf of the Dead – his Campaign for Dead Rights, his enthusiasm for the Fresh Start Club, his impressive sense of civic responsibility, his loyalty and his endless protest songs played on a guitar (he used to crawl around on the floor looking for his fingers afterwards) – suggest that life for Reg began around the time of death.

  Shops, Wandering. Tabernae vagrantes. No one knows why, but all the most truly mysterious and magical items are bought from shops that appear and, after a trading life even briefer than a double-glazing company’s, vanish like smoke. They can turn up wherever there is a suitable stretch of blank wall, but once there they have always been there; dust and grime and a general worn look instantly dispel any doubts in the minds of people who may have walked down that same street every day for a year without noticing it.

  There are three general theories to explain the phenomenon of wandering shops:

  1. Many thousands of years ago there evolved somewhere in the multiverse a race whose single talent was to buy cheap and sell dear. Soon they controlled a vast galactic empire or, as they put it, Emporium, and the more advanced members of the species found a way to equip their very shops with unique propulsion units that could break the dark walls of space itself and open up vast new markets. Long after the worlds of the Emporium perished in the heat death of their particular universe (after one defiant fire sale), the wandering star shops still ply their trade, eating their way through the pages of space-time like a worm through a three-volume novel.

  2. They are the creation of a sympathetic Fate, charged with the role of supplying exactly the right thing at the right time.

  3. They are simply a very clever way of getting around the various Sunday Closing Acts.

  All these theories have two things in common: they explain the known facts and they are completely and utterly wrong. (See also SKILLET.) [LF]

  Shuwadhi, Ronron. Ronron ‘Revelation Joe’ Shuwadhi. A Klatchian mystic and creator of the first pizza on the Disc. [M]

  Sideney, Mr. A wizard, down on his luck, who ends up doing some work for Mr TEATIME. He attended Gammer Sideways, Arnold Wimblestone’s Dame School, where he was merciless bullied for having ringlets. [H]

  Sideways, Arnold. A beggar in Ankh-Morpork, and member of the Canting Crew. He has no legs, and gets around on a small four-wheeled cart. His lacks of legs only serves to give him an extra advantage in any pub fights, where a man with good teeth at groin height has it all his own way. His particular begging technique is to grab people by the knees and say, ‘Have you got change for a penny?’ – invariably profiting by the ensuing cerebral confusion. [SM, TT]

  Sillitoe, Gastric, Captain. Captain of the Wonderful Fanny. His wife is the daughter of Commandant Fournier of the Quirm Watch. This huge man is a first class river pilot, having a detailed knowledge of one of the Disc’s most treacherous rivers, the Quire (Old Treachery). [SN]

  Silverfish, Thomas. President of the ALCHEMISTS’ GUILD. He also dabbled briefly in the world of moving pictures. Despite being an alchemist, he is a very practical man who prides himself on being far more level-headed and down-to-earth than wizards. He believes that the function of the alchemist is to pursue those goals laid down by the wisdom of antiquity, and whose realisation would make human existence so much more bearable – such as immortality and endless supplies of gold. The bane of his life are the Guild apprentices, who fritter away their time playing with lemons and bits of metal and lengths of wire, which can have no possible practical application. [MP, MAA]

  Simnel, Ned. Blacksmith in the village near Miss FLITWORTH’S farm. He is a young man with black, curly hair, and a face, shirt and apron all black with soot and dirt.

  He is by inclination an engineer rather than a farrier, and built the only working Combination Harvester on the Disc. The goal of his life is to find a way of making machines work without the need for horses. However, so far he has watched a kettle lift its lid and boil over 147 times with no other thought in his head than ‘that’s a nuisance’. [RM]

  Simon. An apprentice wizard, but with very good magical potential and an amazing grasp of magical theory.

  He was a thin, gangling boy, with a xylophone chest – one of those tall lads apparently made out of knees, thumbs and elbows. He was also in dire need of a decent haircut, subject to hay fever (which gave him a red nose) and he also suffered from a stammer. Nevertheless, even as a first-year student, he amazed his seniors by pushing back the narrow boundaries of ignorance to reveal the wide, rolling vistas of fresh ignorance beyond. Has not been seen for some time. [ER]

  Simony, Sergeant. Sergeant in the Divine Legion in OMNIA and a follower of the Turtle Movement. Born in Istanzia. A muscular young man with the deadpan expression of the truly professional soldier. He was, according to BRUTHA, a good man with only one flaw in his nature: he wished to overthrow a corrupt religion that ruled by fire and the sword by even greater fiery sword applications.

  Sergeant Simony was made head of the reformed QUISITION by Brutha, with the express remit to wind it up. [SG]

  Sisters, the. Two snakes transmogrified by Lily WEATHERWAX into women. As women they are taller than Granny Weatherwax, slender as sticks and wear broad hats with veils and shimmery dresses. Although beautiful, they have no voices and can sit for hours without blinking. Last seen fighting Magrat GARLICK; it was their misfortune that, when cornered like a rat, Magrat fights like a mongoose. [WA]

  Size 15. Legionary in the KLATCHIAN FOREIGN LEGION. (For an explanation of his name, see COTTON.) [SM]

  Skater, Viscount. A nobleman of Ankh. [MAA]

  Skazz. A student wizard at the Unseen University. He looks about seven stone and has a shoulder-length fringe of hair all round his head – it’s only the tip of his nose poking out which tells the world which way he’s facing. [SM]

  Skiller. Landlord of the Fiddler’s Riddle in Ohulan Cutash. Too stupid to be really cruel, too lazy to be really mean. He and his thin wife sell only beer, which customers say he gets out of cats. [ER]

  Skillet, Wang, Yrxle!yt, Bunglestiff, Cwmlad and Patel. A wandering shop, encountered by RINCEWIND, BETHAN and TWOFLOWER. The proprietor was believed to have given poor service to a sourcerer, and was thus condemned to run a shop for ever. (See also SHOPS, WANDERING.) [LF]

  Skimmer, Inigo. A small, neat man in neat but threadbare clothes. His over-large head gave him the appearance of a lolly nearing the last suck. It’s not merely that his head was big; it’s simply that someone appeared to have squeezed the bottom half of it and forced everything into the top. To make matters look worse, he was also going bald and had carefully teased the remaining strands of hair across the pink dome. He carried his black bowler hat in the way a soldier carries his helmet and walked like a man who has something wrong with his knees. It was hard to judge his age – he could have been twenty-five and a big worrier, or a fresh-faced forty. He had the look of a man who had spent the whole of his life watching the world over the top of a book. His voice was unremarkable, except for a nervous throa
t noise which punctuated anything he said. Mr Skimmer worked in Lord VETINARI’S offices and was a skilled graduate of the ASSASSINS’ Guild and, effectively, a secret agent. [TFE]

  Skipps, Lord Henry. Led the army that defeated the trolls at the Battle of Pseudopolis. [MP]

  Skrp. Large, grey, red-eyed rat. Lives in the Patrician’s Palace. [GG]

  Slang, Dimwell Arrhythmic Rhyming. Various rhyming slangs are known, and have given the universe such terms as ‘apples and pears’ (stairs) and ‘rubbity-dub’ (pub). The Dimwell Street rhyming slang is pretty unique in that that it does not, in fact, rhyme. Example – Prunes, as in ‘Syrup of Prunes’: wig. No one knows why, but theories so far advanced are 1) that it is quite complex and in fact follows hidden rules; or 2) Dimwell is well named; or 3) it’s made up to annoy strangers, which is the case with most such slangs.

  Slant, Mr. President of the Guild of Lawyers, and a partner in Morecombe, Slant and Honeyplace. A zombie. 351 years old. The most renowned, and certainly the oldest, lawyer in Ankh-Morpork. When he sighs, it is like the wind from an ancient tomb. When he stands, he stands as zombies do, by using pairs of muscles in turn; not so much standing as unfolding upwards. Slant, with his grey pallor and stitched-on head, has spent centuries in court rooms and is the undisputed expert on Ankh-Morpork law and a hidden hand in many of its affairs. [J, TT, NW]

  Slick, Billy. A goblin. His real name is Of The Wind Regretfully Blown. He works for Harry King and lives with his granny (Regret of the Falling Leaf) in Ankh-Morpork’s shanty town. [SN]

  Slightly, Miss. Sam Vimes was educated at the Dame School run by Mistress Slightly.

  Mistress Slightly was everything a dame should be. She was fat, and gave the impression of being made of marshmallows, had a gentle understanding of the fact that the bladders of small boys are almost as treacherous as the bladders of old men, and, in general, taught the basics of the alphabet with a minimum of cruelty and a maximum of marshmallow.

  She kept geese, as any self-respecting dame should do. Mistress Slightly wore red and white spotted drawers. She certainly had a mob cap and a laugh like rainwater going down a drain. She may even – underneath the endless layers of petticoats – have worn red-and-white spotted drawers.

  Invariably, while she took lessons, she was peeling potatoes or plucking geese. She often had a mint in her pocket for a boy who knew his alphabet and could say it backwards. And you had to be grateful to someone who taught you how not to be afraid. [SN]

  Slopes, Snowy. Also called Daceyville Slopes. Slopes was a heavy-set man (a bit bulky for his height), and wore a green coat and new boots. He couldn’t read or write and he lodged in rooms over the sweet shop in Money Trap Lane. He didn’t wash much, but he used expensive shampoos on his long, dry hair. He suffered mightily from dandruff, hence the nickname ‘Snowy’. [J]

  Slugg, Henry. Also known as Enrico Basilica. An operatic tenor of almost wizardly proportions, with a friendly, bearded, small face and a squeaky speaking voice. Henry Slugg grew up in Rookery Yard in the Shades, but he changed his name to Enrico Basilica and his origins from the Shades to Brindisi in order to gain credibility for his stunning singing voice. Frankly, no one is going to pay good money to listen to a tenor called Henry Slugg. [M!!!!!]

  Slumber, Chas. Children’s entertainer in Ankh-Morpork. [TOC]

  Small Gods’ Eve. Falls on the occasion of first midsummer. [COM]

  Smeems, Natchbull. A candle knave at Unseen University. He has the never-ending job of keeping the candlesticks, sconces and candelabra of UU filled. People do not like Mr Smeems. A man could be dogmatic, and that was all right, or he could be stupid, and no harm done, but stupid and dogmatic at the same time was too much, especially fluxed with body odour. [UA]

  Smith, Eskarina. (See ESK.)

  Smith, Gordo. Blacksmith in BAD ASS. Not very tall (blacksmiths often aren’t; it’s amazing how many are short, wiry men). The father of ESK. Also father of Jaims, Cern and Gulta. [ER]

  Smith, Howondaland. A balgrog hunter. No one knows what a balgrog is, perhaps because he has never actually caught one. During the great day of the Discworld moving picture industry, it was generally accepted as looking like Morry the troll painted green with wings stuck on. [MP]

  Smith, John. Count Vargo St Gruet von Vilinus. President of the Ankh-Morpork Mission of the Überwald League of Temperance. He now collects bananas and makes models of human organs out of matchsticks because he thinks hobbies make you more human. He smokes a pipe and wears a badly hand-knitted pullover – in a queasy zig-zag pattern of strange, unhappy colours. The sort of thing knitted as a present by a colour-blind aunt. The sort of thing you wouldn’t dare throw away in case the rubbish collectors laughed at you and kicked your bins over [T!]

  Smith, Thomas. Owner of Stronginthearm’s Iron Founders, Beaters and General Forging in Five And Seven Yard, Ankh-Morpork. Not a dwarf by birth, but he has changed his name, grown a beard and taken to wearing an iron helmet in an effort to capitalise on all dwarf craftsmen’s reputation for quality. To his scornful delight, the Campaign for Equal Heights (which is run by humans, most dwarfs being too busy to bother with that sort of thing) have fallen out over his case. Some members consider that since he is clearly posing as a dwarf for commercial gain this is an affront to dwarfs worldwide, while others point out that actual height was never mentioned among the definitions of a dwarf in the Campaign’s charter, because it was considered sizeist. In the meantime, Thomas Stronginthearm is making an extra twenty pence on the dollar. [FOC]

  Smoking Gnu. A secret society of three clacks nerds – Mad Al WINTON, Sane Alex CARLTON, Undecided Adrian EMERY. They were a group of outlaw signallers who rented space on the roof of the Ankh-Morpork Post Office. They designed ‘The Woodpecker’ – a plan to knock out every tower on the Grand Trunk system.

  Alex and Al were old men in the clacks business. When Reacher GILT’S consortium had taken over, and they’d been fired from the Grand Trunk on the same day that Adrian had been fired from the ALCHEMISTS’ GUILD chimney, in their case because they’d spoken their mind about the new management and in his case before he hadn’t moved fast enough when the beaker started to bubble.

  The trio had done the kind of aimless jobs available to new square pegs in a world of old round holes, but every night, high above, the clacks flashed its messages. It was so close, so inviting, so . . . accessible. Everyone knew, in some vague, half understood way, the Grand Trunk had been stolen in all but name. So they’d started an informal little company of their own, which used the Grand Trunk without the Grand Trunk knowing.

  It was a little like stealing. It was exactly like stealing. It was, in fact, stealing. But there was no law against it because no one knew the crime existed, so is it really stealing if what’s stolen isn’t missed? And is it stealing if you’re stealing from thieves? Anyway, all property is theft, except mine. [GP]

  Smother, Dolores. Madam of a tent of ill repute on a military encampment in Borogravia. A lumpy, crowlike woman with little beady eyes, wearing black bombazine. [MR]

  Snackes, The Joye of. Written by a Lancre Witch (no, not Granny Weatherwax). Well, all right, it was written by Nanny OGG. This tome rapidly became a best-seller due to its, erm, well, unusual recipes, which seemed to be able to achieve improvements in even the dullest of sex-lives. Better-known recipes include:

  Banana Soup Surprise

  Celery Astonishment

  Chocolate Delight with Special Secret Sauce

  Cinnamon and Marshmallow Fingers

  Famous Carrot and Oyster Pie

  Maids of Honour (although they generally end up Tarts)

  Nibbles with Special Party Dip

  Porridge (with Honey Mixture)

  Spotted Dick

  Strawberry Wobbler

  Fortunately, we are unable to include the illustrations . . . [M!!!!!]

  Snapcase, Mad Lord. A past Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. In fact, Lord Snapcase took over from Lord WINDER, and he was from much the same mould, alth
ough with fancier waistcoats and more chins and a snuffbox. [NW]

  Snell, Rebecca. Schoolfriend of SUSAN, one of whose earliest intimations of immortality was seeing a TOOTH FAIRY by Rebecca’s bed. [SM]

  Snoriscousin, Snori. Leader of Snori Snoriscousin and His Brass Idiots – a traditional dwarf band. [SM]

  Snouty. Cecil ‘Snouty’ Clapman. Past Watchman in Ankh-Morpork. He was the gaoler at the Treacle Mine Road Watch House. Snouty was a breathy little man, who survived by keeping his eye on which way the political wind was blowing and by being able to lay his hands on just about anything (there is someone like that in most nicks.) He once had his nose broken in a fight, and it was spread all over his face. This incident has left him with permanently watery eyes and with a habit of making a sort of nose-clearing noise when he talks . . . a bit like ‘hnah’. It is very possible that the blow also scrambled his brain. [NW]

  Soak, Ronald. ‘Ronald Soak, Hygienic Dairyman. Established’ is painted on the side of his cart. Ronnie is quite short, and his regulation blue-and-white striped apron almost touches the floor. See also KAOS. [TOT]

  Sock, Gerhardt. A member of the BUTCHERS’ GUILD, and a master butcher. [MAA]

  Songs and Music of the Disc. The nations of the Disc – at least, in those areas so far chronicled – are musically inclined, although their taste is not necessarily commendable. Songs are either traditional folk melodies (‘The Hedgehog Song’), cheap popular music of the blow-your-nose-ain’t-it-so variety (‘Carry Me Away From Old Ankh-Morpork’), or religious songs (‘Claws of Iron Shall Rend the Ungodly’ and, arguably, anything about gold sung by dwarfs). There are hints of a classic and baroque tradition in Ankh-Morpork, and presumably the opera house must have some raw material, but so far the hints allow no conclusions to be drawn.

  Titles recorded are: