Guards Guards - rampage

The other guard shrank back, waving his hands frantically.

“Nonono!” he said. “It's a misunderstanding! What was it you said you didn't want to have to do? Nice monkey!”

“Oh, dear,” said Vimes. “Wrong!”

He ignored the terrified screaming and rummaged through the debris of the kitchen until he came up with a cleaver. He'd never felt really at home with swords, but a cleaver was a different matter. A cleaver had weight. It had purpose. A sword might have a certain nobility about it, unless it was the one belonging for example to Nobby, which relied on rust to hold it together, but what a cleaver had was a tremendous ability to cut things up.

He left the biology lesson-that no monkey was capable of bouncing someone up and down by their ankles-found a likely door, and hurried through it. This took him outside again, into the big cobbled area that surrounded the palace. Now he could get his bearings, now he could . . .

***

Guards Guards - p310