Men at Arms (Discworld 15)

Cruces was standing by his desk, feverishly trying to slot another bolt into his bow—

Vimes tried to silence the singing in his ears.

But . . . why not? Why not fire? Who was this man? He'd always wanted to make the city a cleaner place, and he might as well start here. And then people would find out what the law was . . .

Clean up the world.

Noon started.

The cracked bronze bell in the Teachers' Guild began the chime, and had midday all to itself for at least seven clangs before the Guild of Bakers' clock, running fast, caught up with it.

Cruces straightened up, and began to edge towards the cover of one of the stone pillars.

'You can't shoot me,' he said, watching the gonne. 'I know the law. And so do you. You're a guard. You can't shoot me in cold blood.'

Vimes squinted along the barrel.

It'd be so easy. The trigger tugged at his finger.

A third bell began chiming.

'You can't just kill me. That's the law. And you're a guard,' Dr Cruces repeated. He licked his dry lips.

The barrel lowered a little. Cruces almost relaxed.

'Yes. I am a guard.'

The barrel rose again, pointed at Cruces' forehead.

'But when the bells stop,' said Vimes, quietly, 'I won't be a guard any more.'

Shoot him! SHOOT HIM!

Vimes forced the butt under his arm, so that he had one hand free.

'We'll do it by the rules,' he said. 'By the rules. Got to do it by the rules.'

Without looking down, he tugged his badge off the remains of his jacket. Even through the mud, it still had a gleam. He'd always kept it polished. When he spun it once or twice, like a coin, the copper caught the light.

Cruces watched it like a cat.

The bells were slackening. Most of the towers had stopped. Now there was only the sound of the gong on the Temple of Small Gods, and the bells of the Assassins' Guild, which were always fashionably late.

The gong stopped.

Dr Cruces put the crossbow, neatly and meticulously, on the desk beside him.

'There! I've put it down!'

'Ah,' said Vimes. 'But I want to make sure you don't pick it up again.'

The black bell of the Assassins' Guild hammered its way to noon.

And stopped.

Silence slammed in like a thunderclap.

The little metallic sound as Vimes' badge bounced on the floor filled it from edge to edge.