There were a couple of dull 'thungs' as the bars gave up and broke free. The ape flung them aside and reached into the gaping hole. Then the longest arms of the Law grabbed the astonished Vimes under his shoulders and pulled him through in one movement.
The rank surveyed their handiwork.
'Right,' said Nobby. 'Now, what are the chances of a man standing on one leg with his hat on backwards and a handkerchief in his mouth hitting a dragon's voonerables? '
'Mmph,' said Colon.
'It's pretty long odds,' said Carrot. 'I reckon the hanky is a bit over the top, though.'
Colon spat it out. 'Make up your minds,' he said. 'Me leg's going to sleep.'
Vimes picked himself up off the greasy cobbles and stared at the Librarian. He was experiencing something which had come as a shock to many people, usually in much more unpleasant circumstances such as a brawl started in the Mended Drum when the ape wanted a bit of peace and quiet to enjoy a reflective pint, which was this: the Librarian might look like a stuffed rubber sack, but what it was stuffed with was muscle.
'That was amazing,' was all he could find to say. He looked down at the twisted bars, and felt his mind darken. He grabbed the bent metal. 'You don't happen to know where Wonse is, do you?' he added.
'Eeek!' The Librarian thrust a tattered piece of parchment under his nose. 'Eeek!'
Vimes read the words.
It hathe pleased . . . whereas . . . at the stroke of noone ... a maiden pure, yet high born . . . compact between ruler and ruled ...
'In my city!' he growled. 'In my bloody city!'
He grabbed the Librarian by two handfuls of chest hair and pulled him up to eye height.
'What time is it?' he shouted.
'Oook!'
A long red-haired arm unfolded itself upwards. Vimes's gaze followed the pointing finger. The sun definitely had the look of a heavenly body that was nearly at the crest of its orbit and looking forward to a long, lazy coasting towards the blankets of dusk . . .
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