Men at Arms (Discworld 15)

The rain gurgled off the roofs of the Palace. The gargoyles had taken up their stations at every corner, straining gnats and flies via their ears.

Corporal Carrot shook the drops off his leather rain cape and exchanged salutes with the troll on guard. He strolled through the clerks in the outer rooms and knocked respectfully on the door of the Oblong Office.

'Come.'

Carrot entered, marched to the desk, saluted and stood at ease.

Lord Vetinari tensed, very slightly.

'Oh, yes,' he said. 'Corporal Carrot. I was expecting . . . something like this. I'm sure you've come to ask me for . . . something?'

Carrot unfolded a piece of grubby paper, and cleared his throat.

'Well, sir . . . we could do with a new dartboard. You know. For when we're off duty?'

The Patrician blinked. It was not often that he blinked.

'I beg your pardon?'

'A new dartboard, sir. It helps the men relax after their shift, sir.'

Vetinari recovered a little.

'Another one? But you had one only last year!'

'It's the Librarian, sir. Nobby lets him play and he just leans a bit and hammers the darts in with his fist. It ruins the board. Anyway, Detritus threw one through it. Through the wall behind it, too.'

'Very well. And?'

'Well . . . Acting-Constable Detritus needs to be let off having to pay for five holes in his breastplate.'

'Granted. Tell him not to do it again.'

'Yes, sir. Well, I think that's about it. Except for a new kettle.'

The Patrician's hand moved in front of his lips. He was trying not to smile. ,

'Dear me. Another kettle as well? What happened to the old one?'

'Oh, we still use it, sir, we still use it. But we're going to need another because of the new arrangements.'

ain Vimes? I think we'd better get that out of here,' said Carrot, reaching down.

'Whatever you do, don't touch it!' Vimes warned.

'Why not? It's only a device,' said Carrot. He picked up the gonne by the barrel, regarded it for a moment, and then smashed it against the wall. Bits of metal pin-wheeled away.

'One of a kind,' he said. 'One of a kind is always special, my father used to say. Let's be going.'

He opened the door.

He shut the door.

'There's about a hundred Assassins at the bottom of the stairs,' he said.

'How many bolts have you got for your bow?' said Vimes. He was still staring at the twisted gonne.

'One.'