Night Watch

“It's the one out of our Watch House,” said Vimes, and added, “sir.”

“You know that the Patrician has declared that the building of barricades is an act of rebellion?”

“Yessir.”

“And?” said the captain patiently.

“Well, he would say that, sir, wouldn't he…”

The faintest hint of a smile skimmed across the captain's face. “We can't allow lawlessness, sergeant-at- arms. If we all disobeyed the law, where would we be?”

“There's more coppers per person behind that barricade than anywhere else in the city, sir,” said Vimes. “You could say it's the most law-abiding place around.”

Now there was the sound of raised voices from behind the barricade.

“—we own all your helmets, we own all your shoes, we own all your generals, Touch us and you'll loooose…Morporkia, Morporkia, Morpooroorooorooooorrroorrr–”

“Rebel songs, sir!” said trooper number one. The captain sighed.

“If you listen, Hepplewhite, you might note that it is the national anthem sung very badly,” he said.

“We can't allow rebels to sing that, sir!”

Vimes saw the captain's expression. It had a lot to say about idiots.

“Raising the flag and singing the anthem, Hepplewhite, are, while somewhat suspicious, not in themselves acts of treason,” said the captain. “And we are urgently required elsewhere.” He saluted Vimes, who found himself returning the salute. “We shall leave you, sergeant-at-arms. I trust your day will be full of interest. I fact, I know it.”

“But it's a barricade, sir,” the trooper insisted, glaring at Vimes.

“It's just a pile of furniture, man. People have been spring cleaning, I expect. You'll never be an officer if you can't see straight. Follow me, if you please.”

With a last nod to Vimes, the captain led his men away at a trot.

Vimes leaned against the barricade, put the crossbow on the ground, and fished out the cigar case. He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out the battered carton of little cigars and, with some delicacy, slotted them into place.

Hmm. To the left was Cable Street. In front, Treacle Mine Road stretched all the way to Easy Street.

Now, if a man could get barricades all the way up to Easy Street, there'd be quite a slice of the Lower Rimside behind it, which'd be a lot easier to protect…

We'll do it. After all, we did it.

Of course, that'd mean having the Unmentionables' headquarters in here with us. That's like pitching your tent over a nest of vipers.

We'll handle that. We handled it.

A couple of elderly people pushing a cart full of miscellaneous belongings approached the barricade. They gave Vimes a look of mute pleading. He nodded towards it and they scuttled through.

All we need now is—

“Sarge?” Fred Colon was leaning over the top of the heap.

He looked more out of breath than usual.

“Yes, Fred?”

“There's lots of people coming across the Ron's bridge. There's things happening everywhere, they say. Shall we let 'em in?”

“Any soldiers?”

“I don't reckon so, sarge. It's mostly old people and kids. And my granny.”

“Trustworthy?”

“Not when she's had a few pints.”

“Let them in, then.”

“Er…” said Colon.

“Yes, Fred?”

“Some of 'em is watchmen. A few of the lads from Dimwell and a lot from Kings Way. I know most of 'em, and those I don't are known to the ones I do, if you catch my meanin'.”

“How many?”

“About twenty. One of 'em's Dai Dickins, sergeant at Dimwell. He says they were told they'd got to shoot people and most of 'em deserted on the spot.”

“Quit, Fred,” said Vimes. “We don't desert. We're civilians. Now, I want young Vimes and you and Waddy and maybe half a dozen others out here fully kitted up in two minutes, understand? And tell Wiglet to organize squads ready to move the barricades forward at my signal.”

“Move them, sarge? I thought barricades stood still!”

“And tell Snouty he's got two minutes to find me a bottle of brandy,” said Vimes, ignoring this. “A big one.”

“Are we taking the law into our own hands again, sarge?” said Colon.

Vimes stared at the entrance to Cable Street, and was aware of the weight of the cigar case in his pocket.

“Yes, Fred,” he said. “Only this time we're going to squeeze.”

The two guards on the Unmentionables' headquarters watched with interest as the small contingent of watchmen marched up the street and came to a halt in front of them.

“Oo, look, it's the army,” said one of them. “What do you want?”

“Nothing, sir,” said Corporal Colon.

“Then you can push off!”

“Can't do that, sir. I'm under orders.”

The guards stepped forward. Fred Colon was sweating, and they liked to see things like that. It was a dull job, and most of the Unmentionables were out on more interesting assignments. They entirely failed to hear the soft tread behind them.

“Orders to do what, mister,” said one of them, looming over Colon.

There was a sigh and a soft thud behind him.

“Be a decoy?” quavered Colon.

The remaining guard turned, and met a Mrs Goodbody No. 5 “Negotiator” coming the other way.

As the man slipped to the ground Vimes winced and massaged his knuckles.

“Important lesson, lads,” he said. “It hurts, no matter what you do. You two, drag these into the shadows to sleep it off. Vimes and Nancyball, you come with me.”

The key to winning, as always, was looking as if you had every right, nay, duty to be where you were. It helped if you could also suggest in every line of your body that no one else had any rights to be doing anything, anywhere, whatsoever. It came easily to an old copper.

Vimes led the way into the building. There were a couple of guards inside, heavily armed, behind a stone barrier that made them ideally placed to ambush any unwise intruders. They put their hands on the hilts of their swords when they saw Vimes.

“What's happening out there?” said one.

“Oh, people are getting restless,” said Vimes. “Getting very bad across the river, they say. That's why we've come for the prisoners in the cells.”

“Yeah? On whose authority?”

Vimes swung his crossbow up. “Mr Burleigh and Mr Stronginthearm,” he said, and grinned.

The two guards exchanged glances. “Who the hell are they?” said one.

There was a moment of silence followed by Vimes saying, out of the corner of his mouth: “Lance-Constable Vimes?”