Men at Arms

a surprise—”
    “What? What sort of surprise?”
    Carrot fished in his pouch. “Well, captain…on behalf of the Watch…that is, most of the Watch—”
    “Hold on a minute,” said Colon, “here comes his lordship.”
    The clop of hooves and the rattle of harness signalled the approach of Lord Vetinari’s carriage.
    Carrot glanced around at it. Then he looked at it again. And looked up.
    There was a glint of metal, on the roof of the Tower.
    “Sergeant, who’s on the Tower?” he said.
    “Cuddy, sir.”
    “Oh. Right.” He coughed. “Anyway, captain…we all clubbed together and—” He paused. “Acting-Constable Cuddy, right?”
    “Yeah. He’s reliable.”
    The Patrician’s carriage was halfway toward Sator Square now. Carrot could see the thin dark figure in the back seat.
    He glanced up at the great grey bulk of the tower.
    He started to run.
    “What’s up?” said Colon. Vimes started to run, too.
    Detritus’ knuckles hit the ground as he swung after the others.
    And then it hit Colon—a sort of frantic tingle, as though someone had blown on his naked brain.
    “Oh, shit,” he said, under his breath.

    Claws scrabbled on the dirt.
    “ He drew his sword !”
    “What did you expect? One minute the lad is on top of the world, he’s got a whole new interest in his life, something probably even better than goin’ for walks, and then he turns round and what he sees is, basically, a wolf. You could of hinted. It’s that time of the month, that sort of thing. You can’t blame him for being surprised, really.”
    Gaspode got to his feet. “Now, are you going to come on out or have I got to come in there and be brutally savaged?”

    Lord Vetinari stood up as he saw the Watch running toward him. That was why the first shot went through his thigh, instead of his chest.
    Then Carrot cleared the door of the carriage and flung himself across the man, which is why the next shot went through Carrot.

    Angua slunk out.
    Gaspode relaxed slightly.
    “I can’t go back,” said Angua. “I—”
    She froze. Her ears twitched.
    “What? What?”
    “He’s been hurt!”
    Angua sprang away.
    “Here! Wait for me!” barked Gaspode. “That’s the Shades that way!”

    A third shot knocked a chip out of Detritus, who slammed into the carriage, knocking it on its side and severing the traces. The horses scrambled away. The coachman had already made a lightning comparison between current job conditions and his rates of pay and had vanished into the crowd.
    Vimes slid to a halt behind the overturned carriage. Another shot spanged off the cobbles near his arm.
    “Detritus?”
    “Sir?”
    “How are you?”
    “Oozing a bit, sir.”
    A shot hit the carriage wheel above Vimes’ head, making it spin.
    “Carrot?”
    “Right through my shoulder, sir.”
    Vimes eased himself along on his elbows.
    “Good morning, your lordship,” he said, manically. He leaned back and pulled out a mangled cigar. “Got a light?”
    The Patrician opened his eyes.
    “Ah, Captain Vimes. And what happens now?”
    Vimes grinned. Funny, he thought, how I never feel really alive until someone tries to kill me. That’s when you notice that the sky is blue. Actually, not very blue right now. There’s big clouds up there. But I’m noticing them.
    “We wait for one more shot,” he said. “And then we run for proper cover.”
    “I appear…to be losing a lot of blood,” said Lord Vetinari.
    “Who would have thought you had it in you,” said Vimes, with the frankness of those probably about to die. “What about you, Carrot?”
    “I can move my hand. Hurts like…heck, sir. But you look worse.”
    Vimes looked down.
    There was blood all over his coat.
    “A bit of stone must have caught me,” he said. “I didn’t even feel it!”
    He tried to form a mental picture of the gonne.
    Six tubes, all in a line. Each one with its lead slug and charge of No.1 powder, delivered into the gonne like crossbow bolts. He wondered how long it’d take to put in another six…
    But we’ve got him where we want him! There’s only one way down out of the Tower!
    Yep, we might be sitting out here in the open with him shooting lead pellets at us, but we’ve got him just where we want him!

    Wheezing and farting nervously, Gaspode moved at a shambling run through the Shades and saw, with a heart that sank even further, a knot of dogs ahead of him.
    He pushed and squirmed through the tangle of legs.
    Angua was at bay in a ring of