Guards Guards - Lift

“Eeek!” The Librarian thrust a tattered piece of parchment under his nose. “Eeek!”

Vimes read the words.

It hathe pleased . . . whereas . . . at the stroke of noone ... a maiden pure, yet high born . . . compact between ruler and ruled ...

“In my city!” he growled. “In my bloody city!”

He grabbed the Librarian by two handfuls of chest hair and pulled him up to eye height.

“What time is it?” he shouted.

“Oook!”

A long red-haired arm unfolded itself upwards. Vimes's gaze followed the pointing finger. The sun definitely had the look of a heavenly body that was nearly at the crest of its orbit and looking forward to a long, lazy coasting towards the blankets of dusk . . .

“I'm not bloody well going to have it, understand?” Vimes shouted, shaking the ape back and forth.

“Oook,” the Librarian pointed out, patiently.

“What? Oh. Sorry.” Vimes lowered the ape, who wisely didn't make an issue of it because a man angry enough to lift 300lbs of orangutan without noticing is a man with too much on his mind.

***

Guards Guards - p308-309