Изменить стиль (Регистрация необходима)
Закрыть

'But it'll slow you down for a while. Now bring out Lady Sybil!'

'Lady Sybil is resting. You are in no position to make demands, Mister Vimes. We are not the criminals here.'

As Vimes's mouth dropped open she went on: 'The game is not against the lore. It has been played for a thousand years. And what else is it that you think we have done? Stolen the dwarfs' pet rock? We—'

'You know it wasn't stolen,' said Vimes. 'And I know—'

'You know nothing! You suspect everything. You have that kind of mind.'

'Your son said—'

'My son unfortunately has honed to perfection every muscle in his body except the ones for thinking with,' said the Baroness. 'In civilized Ankh-Morpork I daresay you can barge into people's houses and stamp around, but here in our barbaric backwater the lore requires something beyond mere assertion.'

'I can smell the fear,' said Angua. 'It's pouring off you, Mother.'

'Sam?'

They looked up. Lady Sybil was standing at the top of some stone stairs leading to a lower floor, looking bewildered and angry. She was holding an iron bar with a bend in it.

' Sybil!'

'She told me you were on the run and they were all trying to save you, but that wasn't right, was it?'

It's a terrible thing to admit to yourself, but when the shoulderblades are pressed firmly against the brickwork then any weapon will do, and right now Vimes saw Sybil loaded and ready to fire.

She got on with people. Practically from the moment she'd been able to talk she'd been taught how to listen. And when Sybil listened to people she made them feel good about themselves. It was probably something to do with being a... a big girl. She tried to make herself seem small, and by default that made those around her feel bigger. She got on with people almost as well as Carrot did. No wonder even the dwarfs liked her.

She had pages to herself in Twurp's Peerage, huge ancestral anchors biting into the past, and dwarfs also respected someone who knew their great-great-great-grandfather's full name. And

Sybil couldn't lie, you could see her redden when she tried it. Sybil was a rock. She made Detritus look like a sponge.

'We've been having a lovely run in the woods, dear,' he said. 'Now please come here, because I think we're going to see the King. And I'm going to tell him everything. I've worked it out at last.'

'The dwarfs will kill you,' said the Baroness.

'I can probably outrun a dwarf,' said Vimes. 'And now we're leaving. Angua?'

Angua hadn't moved. Her eyes were still fixed on her mother, and she was still growling.

Vimes recognized the signs. You spotted them in the bars of Ankh-Morpork every Saturday night. Hackles rose, and people climbed up them, and then all that was needed was for someone to break a bottle. Or blink.

'We are leaving, Angua,' he repeated. The other werewolves were standing up and stretching.

Carrot reached out and took her arm. She turned, snarling. It was over in a fraction of a second, and in reality her head had hardly moved before she got a grip on herself.

'Sor thiz iz the boy?' said the Baroness, her voice slurring. 'You betrrray yourrr people for thizz?'

Her ears were lengthening, Vimes was sure. The muscles in her face were moving strangely, too.

'And what else hass Ankh-Morrporrk taught you?'

Angua shuddered. 'Self-control,' she muttered. 'Let's go, Mister Vimes.'

The werewolves closed in as they backed towards the steps.

'Don't turn your back,' said Angua levelly. 'Don't run.'

'Don't need telling,' said Vimes. He was watching Wolfgang, who was moving obliquely across the floor, his eyes fixed on the retreating party.

They'll have to bunch up to follow us through the doorway, he thought. He glanced at Detritus. The giant crossbow was weaving back and forth as the troll tried to keep all the wolves in the field of fire.

'Fire it,' said Angua.

'But they're your family!' said Sybil.

'They'll heal soon enough, believe me!'

'Detritus, don't shoot unless you have to,' Vimes ordered, as they headed towards the drawbridge.

'He has to now,' said Angua. 'Sooner or later Wolfgang will leap, and the others will take—'

'There's something you ought to know, sir,' said Cheery. 'You really ought to know it, sir. It's really important.'

Vimes looked across the drawbridge. Figures massed in the dark: Torchlight glinted off armour and weaponry, blocking the way.

'Well, things couldn't get any worse,' he said.

'Oh, they could if there were snakes on here with us,' said Lady Sybil.

Carrot turned at the sound of Vimes's snort of laughter.

'Sir?'

'Oh, nothing, captain. Keep your eyes on the bastards, will you? We can deal with the soldiers later.'

'Just say the word, sir,' said Detritus.

'You arrre trrapped now,' snarled the Baroness. 'Watchman! Do yourr duty!'

A figure was walking across the bridge, carrying a torch. Captain Tantony reached Vimes and glared at him.

'Stand aside, sir,' he said. 'Stand aside, or by gods, ambassador or not, I'll arrest you!'

Their eyes met. Then Vimes looked away.

'Let's let him through,' he said. 'The man's decided he's got a duty to do.'

Tantony nodded slightly and then marched on across the bridge until he was a few feet from the Baroness. He saluted.

'Take these people away!' she said.

'Lady Serafine von Uberwald?' said Tantony woodenly.

'You know who I am, man!'

'I wish to talk to you concerning certain charges made in my presence.'

Vimes closed his eyes. Oh, you poor dumb idiot... I didn't mean you to actually

'You what?' said the Baroness.

'It has been alleged, my lady, that a member or members of your family have been involved in a conspiracy to—'

'How darrre you!' screamed Serafine.

And Wolfgang leapt, and the future became a series of flickering images.

In mid-air he changed into a wolf.

Vimes grabbed the bottom of Detritus's bow and forced it upwards at the same time as the troll pulled the trigger.

Carrot was running before Wolfgang landed on Captain Tantony's chest.

The sound of the bow echoed around the castle, above the noise of a thousand whirring fragments scything through the sky.

Carrot reached Wolfgang in a flat dive. He hit the wolf with his shoulder, and the two of them were bowled over.

Then, like some moving magic lantern show coming back up to speed, the scene exploded.

Carrot got to his feet and

It must be because we're abroad, thought Vimes. He's trying to do things properly.

He'd squared up to the werewolf, fists balled, a stance taken straight from Fig. l of The Noble Art of Fisticuffs, which looked impressive right up to the point when your opponent broke your nose with a quart mug.

Carrot had a punch like an iron bar, and he landed a couple of heavy blows on Wolfgang as he got up.

The werewolf seemed more puzzled than hurt. Then he changed shape, caught a fist in both hands and gripped it hard. To Vimes's horror he stepped forward, without apparent effort, forcing Carrot back.

'Don't try anything, Angua,' said Wolf, grinning happily. 'Or else I'll break his arm. Oh, perhaps I'll break his arm anyway! Yes!'

Vimes even heard the crack. Carrot went white. Someone holding a broken arm has all the control they need. Another idiot, thought Vimes. When they're down you don't let them get back up! Damn the Marquis of Fantailler! Policing by consent was a good theory, but you had to get your opponent to lie still first.

'Ah! And he has other bones!' said Wolfgang, pushing Carrot away. He glanced towards Angua. 'Get back, get back. Or I'll hurt him some more! No, I shall hurt him some more anyway!'

64
{"b":"88980","o":1}
Для правильной работы Литмира используйте только последние версии браузеров: Opera, Firefox, Chrome
В других браузерах работа Литмира не гарантируется!
Ваша дата определена как 20 февраля 2014, 17:38
ТехнологииПопросить модератораПравила сайта и форума
Рейтинг@Mail.ru server monitor