Стража! Стража!

           "Whatwegoingtodowithallthislot,Captain?"hesaidoverhisshoulder.

           "Ihaven’tthefaintestidea,"saidVimes,sittingdown.TheWatchjailwasjustaboutbigenoughforsixverysmallpeople,whichwereusuallytheonlysorttobeputinit.Whereasthese-

           Helookedaroundhimdesperately.TherewasNorktheImpaler,lyingunderatableandmakingbubblingnoises.TherewasBigHenri.TherewasGrabberSim-mons,oneofthemostfearedbar-roomfightersinthecity.Allinall,therewerealotofpeopleitwouldn’tpaytobenearwhentheywokeup.

           "Wecouldcuttheirfroats,sir,"saidNobby,veteranofascoreofresidualbattlefields.Hehadfoundanunconsciousfighterwhowasabouttherightsizeandwasspeculativelyremovinghisboots,whichlookedquitenewandabouttherightsize.

           "Thatwouldbeentirelywrong,"saidVimes.Hewasn’tsurehowyouactuallywentaboutcuttingathroat.Ithadneverhithertobeenanoption.

           "No,"hesaid,"Ithinkperhapswe’llletthemoffwithacaution."

           Therewasagroanfromunderthebench.

           "Besides,"hewentonquickly,"weshouldgetourfallencomradetoaplaceofsafetyassoonaspossible."

           "Goodpoint,"saidthesergeant.Hetookaswigofthespirits,forthesakeofhisnerves.

           ThetwoofthemmanagedtoslingCarrotbetweenthemandguidehiswobblinglegsupthesteps.Vimes,collapsingundertheweight,lookedaroundforNobby.