Guards! Guards! (Discworld)

Guards! Guards! (Discworld)

Terry Pratchett

Language: English

Pages: 416

ISBN: 0062225758

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Welcome to Guards! Guards!, the eighth book in Terry Pratchett’s legendary Discworld series.

Long believed extinct, a superb specimen of draco nobilis ("noble dragon" for those who don't understand italics) has appeared in Discworld's greatest city. Not only does this unwelcome visitor have a nasty habit of charbroiling everything in its path, in rather short order it is crowned King (it is a noble dragon, after all...). How did it get there? How is the Unique and Supreme Lodge of the Elucidated Brethren of the Ebon Night involved? Can the Ankh-Morpork City Watch restore order – and the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork to power?

Magic, mayhem, and a marauding dragon...who could ask for anything more?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Sir?” “Come with me.” He stalked away through the ruined palace, Vimes trailing behind, until he reached the Oblong Office. It was quite tidy. It had escaped most of the devastation with nothing more than a layer of dust. The Patrician sat down, and suddenly it was as if he’d never left. Vimes wondered if he ever had. He picked up a sheaf of papers and brushed the plaster off them. “Sad,” he said. “Lupine was such a tidy-minded man.” “Yes, sir.” The Patrician steepled his hands and looked

Vimes had merely worked his way along. Every time he seemed to be getting anywhere he spoke his mind, or said the wrong thing. Usually both at once. That was what made him uncomfortable around Wonse. It was the ticking of the bright clockwork of ambition. Vimes had never mastered ambition. It was something that happened to other people. “Ah, Vimes.” “Sir,” said Vimes woodenly. He didn’t try to salute in case he fell over. He wished he’d had time to drink dinner. Wonse rummaged in the papers

creature seemed to be concentrating all the power its siblings wasted in flame and noise into a stare like a thermic lance. He couldn’t help remembering how much he’d wanted a puppy when he was a little boy. Mind you, they’d been starving—anything with meat on it would have done. He heard the dragon lady say, “One tries to breed for a good flame, depth of scale, correct color and so on. One just has to put up with the occasional total whittle.” The little dragon turned on Vimes a gaze that

all night long. I tell them, I work all day, a man’s got to have some time to learn to play the tuba. That’s oppression, that is. If I’m not under the heel of the oppressor, I don’t know who is.” “Put like that—” said Brother Watchtower slowly—“I reckon my brother-in-law is oppressing me all the time with having this new horse and buggy he’s been and bought. I haven’t got one. I mean, where’s the justice in that? I bet a king wouldn’t let that sort of oppression go on, people’s wives oppressing

“We should warn people and—” “No,” said Sergeant Colon vehemently, “because, Ae, they wouldn’t believe us and, Bee, we’ve got a king now. ’S his job, dragons.” “S’right,” said Nobby. “He’d probably be really angry. Dragons are probably, you know, royal animals. Like deer. A man could probably have his tridlins plucked just for thinking about killing one, when there’s a king around.”1 “Makes you glad you’re common,” said Colon. “Commoner,” corrected Nobby. “That’s not a very civic attitude—”

Download sample

Download