From the air Ankh-Morpork must have looked like a disturbed anthill, with streams of dark figures flowing towards the wreck of the dragon.
Most of them had some kind of weapon.
Many of them had spears.
Some of them had swords.
All of them had one aim in mind.
'You know what?' said Vimes aloud. 'This is going to be the world's first democratically killed dragon. One man, one stab.'
'Then you've got to stop them. You can't let them kill it!' said Lady Ramkin.
Vimes blinked at her.
'Pardon?' he said.
'It's wounded!'
'Lady, that was the intention, wasn't it? Anyway, it's only stunned,' said Vimes.
'I mean you can't let them kill it like this,' said Lady Ramkin insistently. 'Poor thing!'
'What do you want to do, then?' demanded Vimes, his temper unravelling. 'Give it a strengthening dose of tar oil and a nice comfy basket in front of the stove?'
'It's butchery!'
Вы читаете Guards! Guards!
