The two palace guards stood rigid with astonishment.
“I should duck, if I was you,” said Vimes from near ground level.
The two axes left Carrot's hands and whirred through the air making a noise like a brace of partridges. One of them hit the palace gate, burying half the head in the woodwork. The other one hit the shaft of the first one, and split it. Then Carrot arrived.
Vimes went and sat down on a nearby bench for a while, and rolled himself a cigarette.
Eventually he said, “I think that's about enough, constable. I think they'd like to come quietly now.”
“Yes, sir. What are they accused of, sir?” said Carrot, holding one limp body in either hand.
“Assaulting an officer of the Watch in the execution of his duty and ... oh, yes. Resisting arrest.”
“Under Section (vii) of the Public Order Act of 1457?” said Carrot.
“Yes,” said Vimes solemnly. “Yes. Yes, I suppose so.”
“But they didn't resist very much, sir,” Carrot pointed out.
“Well, attempting to resist arrest. I should just leave them over by the wall until we come back. I don't expect they'll want to go anywhere.”
“Right you are, sir.”
“Don't hurt them, mind,” said Vimes. “You mustn't hurt prisoners.”
“That's right, sir,” said Carrot, conscientiously. “Prisoners once Charged have Rights, sir. It says so in the Dignity of Man (Civic Rights) Act of 1341. I keep telling Corporal Nobbs. They have Rights, I tell him. This means you do not Put the Boot in.”
“Very well put, constable.”
Carrot looked down. “You have the right to remain silent,” he said. “You have the right not to injure yourself falling down the steps on the way to the cells. You have the right not to jump out of high windows. You do not have to say anything, you see, but any thing you do say, well, I have to take it down and it might be used in evidence.” He pulled out his notebook and licked his pencil. He leaned down further.
“Pardon?” he said. He looked up at Vimes.
“How do you spell 'groan', sir?” he said.
“G-R-O-N-E, I think.”
“Very good, sir.”
"Oh, and constable?'
“Yes, sir?”
“Why the axes?”
“They were armed, sir. I got them from the blacksmith in Market Street, sir. I said you'd be along later to pay for them.”
“And the cry?” said Vimes weakly.
“Dwarfish war yodel, sir,” said Carrot proudly.
“It's a good cry,” said Vimes, picking his words with care. “But I'd be grateful if you'd warn me first another time, all right?”
“Certainly, sir.”
o;I mean the man,” said Vimes wearily.
“Nnnnn,” said Brother Fingers.