The first problem was the palace guard.
Vimes had never liked them. They'd never liked him. Okay, so maybe the rank were only one step away from petty scofflaws, but in Vimes's professional opinion the palace guard these days were only one step away from being the worst criminal scum the city had ever produced. A step further down. They'd have to reform a bit before they could even be considered for inclusion in the Ten Most Unwanted list.
They were rough. They were tough. They weren't the sweepings of the gutter, they were what you still found sticking to the gutter when the gutter sweepers had given up in exhaustion. They had been extremely well-paid by the Patrician, and presumably were extremely well-paid by someone else now, because when Vimes walked up to the gates a couple of them stopped lounging against the walls and straightened up while still maintaining just the right amount of psychological slouch to cause maximum offense.
'Captain Vimes,' said Vimes, staring straight ahead. 'To see the king. It's of the utmost importance.'
'Yeah? Well, it'd have to be,' said a guard. 'Captain Slimes, was it?'
'Vimes,' said Vimes evenly. 'With a Vee.'
One of the guards nodded to his companion.
'Vimes,' he said. 'With a Vee.'
'Fancy,' said the other guard.
'It's most urgent,' said Vimes, maintaining a wooden expression. He tried to move forward.
The first guard sidestepped neatly and pushed him sharply in the chest.
'No-one is going nowhere,' he said. 'Orders of the king, see? So you can push off back to your pit, Captain Vimes with a Vee.'
Вы читаете Guards! Guards!
