He picked up some of the coils of paper.
...CREATE PEACE AND JUSTICE FOR ALL...
...RULE USE WISELY...
...TEACH US FREEDOM...
...LEAD US TO...
Poor devil, he thought.
'Let's get you home. That hand needs treating - ' said Angua.
'Listen, will you?' said Carrot. 'He's alive!'
Vimes knelt down by Dorfl. The broken clay skull looked as empty as yesterday's breakfast egg. But there was still a pinpoint of light in each eye socket.
'Usssss,' hissed Dorfl, so faintly that Vimes wasn't sure he'd heard it.
A finger scratched on the floor.
'Is it trying to write something?' said Angua.
Vimes pulled out his notebook, eased it under Dorfl's hand, and gently pushed a pencil into the golem's fingers. They watched the hand as it wrote - a little jerkily but still with the mechanical precision of a golem - eight words.
Then it stopped. The pencil rolled away. The lights in Dorfl's eyes dwindled and went out,
'Good grief,' breathed Angua. 'They don't need words in their heads...'
'We can rebuild him,' said Carrot hoarsely. 'We have the pottery.'
Vimes stared at the words, and then at what remained of Dorfl.
'Mr Vimes?' said Carrot.
'Do it,' said Vimes.
Carrot blinked.
'Right now,' Vimes said. He looked back at the scrawl in his book.
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