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"
Oh
,
the
hell
with
it
.
"
Vimes
grabbed
a
butcher
’
s
knife
from
a
block
beside
it
and
threw
it
.
There
is
an
art
in
throwing
knives
and
,
even
then
,
you
need
the
right
kind
of
knife
.
Otherwise
it
does
just
what
this
one
did
,
which
is
miss
completely
.
The
guard
with
the
bow
leaned
sideways
,
righted
himself
,
and
found
that
a
purple
fingernail
was
gently
blocking
the
firing
mechanism
.
He
looked
around
.
The
Librarian
hit
him
right
on
top
of
his
helmet
.
The
other
guard
shrank
back
,
waving
his
hands
frantically
.
"
Nonono
!
"
he
said
.
"
It
’
s
a
misunderstanding
!
What
was
it
you
said
you
didn
’
t
want
to
have
to
do
?
Nice
monkey
!
"
"
Oh
,
dear
,
"
said
Vimes
.
"
Wrong
!
"
He
ignored
the
terrified
screaming
and
rummaged
through
the
debris
of
the
kitchen
until
he
came
up
with
a
cleaver
.
He
’
d
never
felt
really
at
home
with
swords
,
but
a
cleaver
was
a
different
matter
.
A
cleaver
had
weight
.
It
had
purpose
.
A
sword
might
have
a
certain
nobility
about
it
,
unless
it
was
the
one
belonging
for
example
to
Nobby
,
which
relied
on
rust
to
hold
it
together
,
but
what
a
cleaver
had
was
a
tremendous
ability
to
cut
things
up
.
He
left
the
biology
lesson
-
that
no
monkey
was
capable
of
bouncing
someone
up
and
down
by
their
ankles
-
found
a
likely
door
,
and
hurried
through
it
.
This
took
him
outside
again
,
into
the
big
cobbled
area
that
surrounded
the
palace
.
Now
he
could
get
his
bearings
,
now
he
could
.
.
.
There
was
a
boom
in
the
air
above
him
.
A
gale
blew
downwards
,
knocking
him
over
.
The
King
of
Ankh
-
Morpork
,
wings
outspread
,
glided
across
the
sky
and
settled
for
a
moment
on
the
palace
gateway
,
talons
gouging
long
scars
in
the
stone
as
it
caught
its
balance
.
The
sun
glittered
off
its
arched
back
as
it
stretched
its
neck
,
roared
a
lazy
billow
of
flames
,
and
sprang
into
the
air
again
.
