'This is madness,' said the Patrician calmly.
'I thought I told you to shut up!' snapped Vimes, spinning around and shaking a finger under the Patrician's nose.
'Tell me, Sarge,' whispered Nobby, 'do you think we're going to like it in the scorpion pit?'
'…say anything, er, but anything you do say will be written down, er, here, in my notebook, and, er, may be used in evidence..'
Carrot's voice trailed into silence.
'Well, if this pantomime gives you any pleasure, Vimes,' said the Patrician eventually, 'take him down to the cells. I'll deal with him in the morning.'
Wonse made no signal. There was no scream or cry. He just rushed at the Patrician, sword raised.
Options flickered across Vimes's mind. In the lead came the suggestion that standing back would be a good plan, let Wonse do it, disarm him afterwards, let the city clean itself up. Yes. A good plan.
And it was therefore a total mystery to him why he chose to dart forward, bringing Carrot's sword up in a half-baked attempt at blocking the stroke . . .
Perhaps it was something to do with doing it by the book.
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