'Ah.'
The Patrician turned the blade over and over slowly, staring at it as if fascinated. Vimes felt the air thicken, as though history was clustering around this point, but for the life of him he couldn't think why. This was one of those points where the Trousers of Time bifurcated themselves, and if you weren't careful you'd go down the wrong leg…
Wonse arose in a world of shades, icy confusion pouring into his mind. But all he could think of at the moment was the tall cowled figure standing over him.
'I thought you were all dead,' he mumbled. It was strangely quiet and the colours around him seemed washed-out, muted. Something was very wrong. 'Is that you, Brother Doorkeeper?' he ventured.
The figure reached out.
METAPHORICALLY, it said.
…and the Patrician handed the sword to Carrot.
'Very well done, young man,' he said. 'Captain Vimes, I suggest you give your men the rest of the day off.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Vimes. 'Okay, lads. You heard his lordship.'
'But not you, Captain. We must have a little talk.'
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