Night Watch

“You mean just to show I'm patriotic? Good gods, no. That would be a rather odd thing to do,” said the captain.

“And how about the flag?”

“Well, obviously I salute it every day, sir.”

“But you don't wave it, at all?” the major enquired.

“I think I waved a paper one a few times when I was a little boy. Patrician's birthday or something. We stood in the streets as he rode by and we shouted ‘Hurrah!’”

“Never since then?”

“Well, no, Clive,” said the captain, looking embarrassed. “I'd be very worried if I saw a man singing the national anthem and waving the flag, sir. It's really a thing foreigners do.”

“Really? Why?”

“We don't need to show we're patriotic, sir. I mean, this is Ankh-Morpork. We don't have to make a big fuss about being the best, sir. We just know.”

@It was a beguiling theory that might have arisen in the minds of Wiglet and Waddy and, yes, even in the not overly exercised mind of Fred Colon, and as far as Vimes could understand it, it went like this.

1. Supposing the area behind the barricades was bigger than the area in front of the barricades, right?

2. Like, sort of, it had more people in it and more of the city, if you follow me.

3. Then, correct me if I'm wrong, sarge, but that'd mean in a manner of speaking we are now in front of the barricades, am I right?

4. Then, as it were, it's not like we're rebellin', is it? 'cos there's more of us, so the majority can't rebel, it stands to reason.

5. So that makes us the good guys. Obviously we've been the good guys all along, but now it'd be kind of official, right? Like, mathematical?

6. So we thought we'd push on to Short Street and then we could nip down into Dimwell and up the other side of the river…

7. Are we going to get into trouble for this, sarge?

8. You're looking at me in a funny way, sarge.

9. Sorry, sarge.

Vimes, with an increasingly worried Fred Colon in front of him, and some of the other barricadeers standing around as if caught in an illicit game of Knocking On Doors And Running Away, thought about this. The men watched him carefully, in case of explosion.

And it actually made a weird kind of logic, if you didn't factor in considerations like “real life” and “common sense”.

They'd worked hard. It was easy enough to block a city street, heavens knew. You just nailed planks around a couple of wagons and piled it high with furniture and junk. That took care of the main streets, and with enough pushing you could move it forwards.

As for the rest, it really hadn't been that hard. There had been lots of small barricades in any case. The lads had simply joined them up. Without anyone really noticing, The People's Republic of Treacle Mine Road now occupied almost a quarter of the city.

Vimes took a few deep breaths.

“Fred?” he said.

“Yes, sarge?”

“Did I tell you to do this?”

“No, sarge.”

“There's too many alleys. There's too many people, Fred.”

Colon brightened. “Ah, well, there's more coppers too, sarge. A lot of the lads found their way here. Good lads, too. And Sergeant Dickins, he knows about this stuff, he remembers the last time this happened, sarge, so he asked every able-bodied man who knew how to use a weapon to muster up, sarge. There's a lot of 'em, sarge! We got an army, sarge!”

This is how the world collapses, thought Vimes. I was just a young fool, I didn't see it like this. I thought Keel was leading the revolution. I wonder if that's what he thought, too?

But I just wanted to keep a few streets safe. I just wanted to keep a handful of decent, silly people away from the dumb mobs and the mindless rebels and the idiot soldiery. I really, really hoped we could get away with it.

Maybe the monks were right. Changing history is like damming a river. It'll find its way round.

He saw Sam beaming among the men. Hero worship, he thought. That sort of thing can turn you blind.

“Any trouble?” he said to Colon.

“Don't think anyone's worked out what's happening here, sarge. There's been a lot happening around Dolly Sisters and over that way. Cavalry charges and what have you—hold on, here come some more.”

A watchman had signalled from the top of the barricade. Vimes heard the commotion on the other side of the pile.

“More people runnin' away from Dolly Sisters, by the look of it,” said Colon. “What d'you want us to do, sarge?”

Keep them out, thought Vimes. We don't know who they are. We can't let everyone in. Some of them will be trouble.

The trouble is, I know what's going on out there. The city is a little slice of Hell, and there's no real safety anywhere.

And I know what I'm going to decide, because I watch me decide it.

I don't believe this. I'm standing over there now, a kid who's still clean and pink and full of ideals, looking at me as if I'm some kind of hero. I don't dare not be. I'm going to make the stupid decision because I don't want to look bad in front of myself. Try explaining that to anyone who hasn't had a couple of drinks.

“All right, let them through,” he said. “But no weapons. Pass the word around.”

“Take weapons off people?” said Colon.

“Think about it, Fred. We don't want Unmentionables in here, do we, or soldiers in disguise? A man's got to be vouched for before he can carry arms. I ain't going to be stabbed in the back and the front at the same time. Oh, and Fred…I don't know if I can do this, and probably it won't last, but as far as I'm concerned you're promoted to sergeant. Anyone who wants to argue about the extra stripe, tell 'em to argue with me.”

Fred Colon's chest, already running to fat, swelled visibly.

“Right, sarge. Er…does that mean I still take orders from you? Right. Right. Right. I still take orders from you. Right.”

“Don't move any more barricades. Fill up the alleys. Hold this line. Vimes, you come with me, I'll need a runner.”

“I'm pretty runny, sarge,” Nobby volunteered, from somewhere behind him.

“Then what I want you to do, Nobby, is get out there and find out what's happening now.”

Sergeant Dickins turned out to be younger than Vimes remembered. But he was still close to retirement. He'd maintained a flourishing sergeant's moustache, waxed to points and clearly dyed, and the proper sergeant shape, occasioned by means of undisclosed corsetry. He'd spent a lot of time in the regiments, Vimes recalled, although he came from Llamedos originally. The men found that out because he belonged to some druid religion so strict that they didn't even use standing stones. And they were strongly against swearing, which is a real handicap in a sergeant. Or would be, if sergeants weren't so good at improvising.

He was currently in Welcome Soap, a continuation of Cable Street. And he had the army.

It wasn't much of one. No two weapons were exactly alike and most of them were not, strictly speaking, weapons. Vimes shuddered when he saw the crowd and had a flashback, which was probably a flash forward, to all