Night Watch

The woman waved a hand. “You're free to go whenever you wish.”

“It's a comfy chair,” said Vimes. He was damned if he'd be dismissed. “Are you really from Genua?”

“Are you really from Pseudopolis?” Madam smiled at him. “I find, personally, that it pays never to be from somewhere close at hand. It makes life so much easier. But I have spent a lot of time in Genua, where I have… business interests.” She smiled at him. “And now you're thinking ‘old seamstress’, no doubt?”

“Actually I was thinking bespoke tailoring,” said Vimes, and she burst out laughing. “But mostly,” he added, “I was thinking ‘revolutionary’.”

“Continue, sergeant.” Madam stood up. “Do you mind if I have some champagne? I'd offer you some, but I understand that you don't drink.”

Vimes glanced at the brimming whiskey glass beside him.

“We were just checking,” said Madam, hauling a large bottle out of an industrial-capacity ice bucket. “You're not a sergeant. Rosie was right. You've been an officer. More than just any old officer, too. You're so composed, Sergeant Keel. Here you are, in a big house, in a lady's boudoir, with a woman of uneasy virtue,” Madam up-ended the bottle into what appeared to be a blue mug with a teddy bear on it, “and you appear unfussed. Where are you from? You may smoke, by the way.”

“Somewhere a long way off,” said Vimes.

“Uberwald?”

“No.”

“I have…business interests in Uberwald,” said Madam. “Alas, the situation there is becoming quite unstable.”

“Right. I see,” said Vimes. “And you'd like to have the significant pause type of business interests in Ankh-Morpork, I expect. If it can be stabilized.”

“Very good. Let us say that I think this city has a wonderful future and that I would like to be part of it, and that you are remarkably perspicacious.”

“No,” said Vimes. “I'm very simple. I just know how things work. I just follow the money. Winder is a madman, and that's not good for business. His cronies are criminals, and that's not good for business. A new Patrician will need new friends, far-sighted people who want to be part of a wonderful future. One that's good for business. That's how it goes. Meetings in rooms. A little diplomacy, a little give and take, a promise here, an understanding there. That's how real revolutions happen. All that stuff in the streets is just froth…” Vimes nodded to the doors. “Guests for a late supper? That was Doctor Follett's voice. A clever man, they used to– they call him. He'll pick the right side. If you've got the big Guilds with you, Winder is a dead man walking. But Snapcase won't do you much good.”

“Many people have great hopes of him.”

“What do you think?”

“I think he's a scheming, self-serving fool. But he's the best there is, at the moment. And where do you come in, sergeant?”

“Me? I'm staying outside. You've got nothing that I want.”

“You don't want anything?”

“I want lots of things, my lady. But you can't give them to me.”

“How would you like to be back in command?”

The question hit him like a hammer. This was history. She couldn't know! How could she know?

“Ah,” said Madam, who had watched his expression. “Rosemary did say thieves took some very expensive armour off you. Fit for a general, I hear.”

She opened another bottle. Properly, too, Vimes noticed, through the shock. None of that amateur business with rocketing corks and wasted bubbles.

“Wouldn't that be strange if it was true?” Madam mused. “A street-fighting man with the manner of a commander and the breastplate of a leader.”

Vimes stared straight ahead.

“And who needs to know how he got here?” said Madam, to the air in general. “We could take the view that here at last is a man who could truly take command of the City Watch.”

The first thought that fizzed in Vimes's head like champagne was: bloody hell, I could do it! Chuck Swing out on his arse, promote some decent sergeants—

The second thought was: in this city? Under Snapcase? Now? We'd just be another gang. The third thought was: this is insane. It can't happen. It never did happen. You want to go home to Sybil.

Thoughts one and two shuffled out of the way, feeling ashamed of themselves and mumbling yeah, right…Sybil…yeah, obviously…right…sorry…until they faded into silence.

“I've always had a talent for seeing promise,” said Madam, while he still stared at nothing.

The fourth thought rose in the darkness like some ugly creature from the depths.

You didn't think about Sybil until thought three, it whispered.

He blinked.

“You know the city needs—” Madam began.

“I want to go home,” said Vimes. “I'm going to finish the job that's in front of me, and then I'm going home. That's what I'm going to do.”

“There are those who would say that if you are not for us, you're against us,” said Madam.

“For you? For what? For anything? No! But I'm not for Winder, either. I'm not supposed to be ‘for’ people. And I don't take bribes. Not even if Sandra threatens me with a toadstool!”

“I believe it was a mushroom. Oh dear.” The lady gave him a smile. “You are incorruptible?”

Oh dear, here we go again, thought Vimes. Why did I wait until I was married to become strangely attractive to powerful women? Why didn't it happen to me when I was sixteen? I could have done with it then.

He tried to glare, but that probably only made it worse.

“I've met a few incorruptible men,” said Madam Meserole. “They tend to die horrible deaths. The world balances out, you see. A corrupt man in a good world, or a good man in a corrupt one…the equation comes out the same way. The world does not deal well with those who don't pick a side.”

“I like the middle,” said Vimes.

“That gives you two enemies. I'm amazed that you can afford so many, on a sergeant's pay. Please think of what you could be giving up.”

“I am. And I'm not going to help people to die just to replace one fool with another.”

“Then there is your door behind you, sergeant. I am very sorry we could not—”

“—do business?” said Vimes.

“I was going to say ‘reach a mutually beneficial agreement’. We are not very far from your Watch House. I wish you…luck.”

She nodded towards the door.

“Such a shame,” she said, and sighed.

Vimes stepped out into the rainy night, and shifted his weight from foot to foot, and then took a few experimental steps.

Corner of Easy and Treacle Mine. A mix of flat-top cobbles and old bricks. Yeah.

He went home.

Madam stared at the closed door for a while, and then turned as the candles flickered slightly.

“You really are very good,” she said. “How long have you been here?”

Havelock Vetinari stepped out of the shadow in the corner. He wasn't wearing official Assassin's black, but loose clothes that were…no real colour at all, just nondescript shades of grey.

“I've been here quite long enough,” he said, sprawling into the chair that Vimes had vacated.