The sound of the bow echoed around the castle, above the noise of a thousand whirring fragments scything through the sky.
Carrot reached Wolfgang in a flat dive. He hit the wolf with his shoulder, and the two of them were bowled over.
Then, like some moving magic lantern show coming back up to speed, the scene exploded.
Carrot got to his feet and
It must be because we"re abroad, thought Vimes. He"s trying to do things properly.
He"d squared up to the werewolf, fists balled, a stance taken straight from Fig. l of The Noble Art of Fisticuffs, which looked impressive right up to the point when your opponent broke your nose with a quart mug.
Carrot had a punch like an iron bar, and he landed a couple of heavy blows on Wolfgang as he got up.
The werewolf seemed more puzzled than hurt. Then he changed shape, caught a fist in both hands and gripped it hard. To Vimes"s horror he stepped forward, without apparent effort, forcing Carrot back.
"Don"t try anything, Angua," said Wolf, grinning happily. "Or else I"ll break his arm. Oh, perhaps I"ll break his arm anyway! Yes!"
Vimes even heard the crack. Carrot went white. Someone holding a broken arm has all the control they need. Another idiot, thought Vimes. When they"re down you don"t let them get back up! Damn the Marquis of Fantailler! Policing by consent was a good theory, but you had to get your opponent to lie still first.
"Ah! And he has other bones!" said Wolfgang, pushing Carrot away. He glanced towards Angua. "Get back, get back. Or I"ll hurt him some more! No, I shall hurt him some more anyway!"
Then Carrot kicked him in the stomach.
Wolfgang went over backwards, but turned this into a backflip and a mid-air spin. He landed lightly, leapt back at the astonished Carrot and punched him twice in the chest.
The blows sounded like shovels hitting wet concrete.
Wolfgang grabbed the falling man, lifted him over his head with one hand and hurled him down on to the bridge in front of Angua. "Civilized man!" he shouted. "Here he is, sister!"
Vimes heard a sound down beside him. Gavin was watching intently, making urgent little noises in his throat. A tiny part of Vimes, the little rock-hard core of cynicism, thought: all right for you, then.
Steam was rising off Wolfgang. He shone in the torchlight. The blond hair across his shoulders gleamed like a slipped halo.
Angua knelt down by the body, face impassive. Vimes had been expecting a scream of rage.
He heard her crying.
Beside Vimes, Gavin whined. Vimes stared down at the wolf. He looked at Angua trying to lift Carrot, and then he looked at Wolfgang. And then back again.
"Anyone else?" said Wolfgang, dancing back and forth on the boards. "How about you, Civilized?"
"Sam!" hissed Sybil. "You can"t - "
Vimes drew his sword. It wouldn"t make any difference now. Wolfgang wasn"t playing now, he wasn"t punching and running away. Those arms could push a fist through Vimes"s ribcage and out the other side
A blur went past at shoulder height. Gavin struck Wolfgang in the throat, knocking him over. They rolled across the bridge, Wolfgang changing back to wolf shape to lock jaw against jaw. They broke, circled, and went for one another again.
Dreamlike, Vimes heard a small voice say: "He wouldn"t last five minutes back home fightin" like that. The silly bugger"s gonna get creamed, fightin" like that! Stuff the Marquis of flamin" Fantailler!"
Gaspode was sitting bolt upright, stubby tail vibrating.
"The daftie! This is how you win a dogfight!"
As the wolves rolled over and over, Wolfgang tearing at Gavin"s belly, Gaspode arrived growling and yapping and launched himself in the general direction of the werewolf"s hindquarters.
There was a yip. Gaspode"s growls became somewhat muffled. Wolfgang leapt vertically. Gavin sprang. The three hit the parapet of the bridge together, knocked the crumbling stones aside, hung for a moment in a snarling ball, and then dropped down into the roaring whiteness of the river.
The whole of it, from the moment Tantony had crossed the bridge, had taken much less than a minute.