Guards! Guards! (Discworld 8)

“It's me, Sergeant.”

“I glad about that, Nobby,” said Colon fervently.

“I wish it wasn't me, Sergeant.”

Colon tipped the water out of his helmet, and then paused.

“What about young Carrot?” he said.

Nobby pushed himself upon his elbows, groggily.

“Dunno,” he said. “One minute we were on the roof, next minute we were jumping.”

They both looked at the ashen waters of the pond.

“I suppose,” said Colon slowly, “he can swim?”

“Dunno. He never said. Not much to swim in, up in the mountains. When you come to think about it,” said Nobby.

“But perhaps there were limpid blue pools and deep mountain streams,” said the sergeant hopefully. “And icy tarns in hidden valleys and that. Not to mention subterranean lakes. He'd be bound to have learned. In and out of the water all day, I expect.”

They stared at the greasy grey surface.

“It was probably that Protective,” said Nobby. “P'raps it filled with water and dragged him down.”

Colon nodded gloomily.

“I'll hold your helmet,” said Nobby, after a while.

“But I'm your superior officer!”

“Yes,” said Nobby reasonably, “but if you get stuck down there, you're going to want your best man up here, ready to rescue you, aren't you?”

“That's . . . reasonable,” said Colon eventually. “That's a good point.”

“Right, then.”

“Drawback is, though ...”

“What?”

“. . .1 can't swim,” Colon said.

“How did you get out of that, then?”

Colon shrugged. “I'm a natural floater.”

Their eyes, once again, turned to the dankness of the pond. Then Colon stared at Nobby. Then Nobby, very slowly, unbuckled his helmet.

“There isn't someone still in there, is there?” said Carrot, behind them.

They looked around. He hoicked some mud out of an ear. Behind him the remains of the brewery smouldered.

“I thought I'd better nip out quickly, see what was going on,” he said brightly, pointing to a gate leading out of the yard. It was hanging by one hinge.

“Oh,” said Nobby weakly. “Jolly good.”

“There's an alley out there,” said Carrot.