Night Watch

“Carved it meself out of soap,” said Nobby. “So I can be a copper.”

“Why?” said the major. There was something about the apparition that, despite the urgency, called for a kind of horrified yet fascinated study.

“But I'm thinking of going for a soldier if I grow up,” Nobby went on, giving the major a happy grin. “Much better pickin's, the way things are going.”

“I'm afraid you're not tall enough,” said the major quickly.

“Don't see why not, the enemy reaches all the way to the ground,” said Nobby. “Anyway, people're lyin' down when you get their boots off. Ol' Sconner, he says the money's in teeth and earrings but I say every man's bound to have a pair of boots, right? Whereas there's a lot of bad teeth around these days and the false-teeth makers always demand a decent set—”

“Do you mean to tell me that you want to join the army just to loot the battlefields?” said the major, completely shocked. “A little…lad like you?”

“Once when ol' Sconner was sober for two days together he made me a little set of soldiers,” said Nobby. “An' they had these little boots that you could—”

“Shut up,” said the major.

“—take off, and tiny tiny little wooden teeth that you could—”

“Will you shut up!” said the major. “Have you no interest in honour? Glory? Love of city?”

“Dunno. Can you get much for 'em?” said Nobby.

“They are priceless!”

“Oh, well, in that case I'll stick with the boots, if it's all the same to you,” said Nobby. “You can sell them for ten pence a pair if you know the right shop—”

“Look at Trooper Gabitass there!” said the major, now quite upset. “Twenty years' service, a fine figure of a soldier! He wouldn't stoop to stealing the boots of a fallen enemy, would you, trooper?”

“No, sir! Mug's game, sir!” said Trooper Gabitass.8

“Er…yes. Right!” said the major. “You could learn a lot from men like Trooper Gabitass, young man. By the sound of it, your time with the rebels has filled your head with very wrong ideas indeed.”

“I ain't a rebel!” Nobby shouted. “Don't you go calling me a rebel, I ain't a rebel, I'm an Ankh-Morpork lad, I am, and proud of it! Hah, you are wrong, I've never been a rebel and you're cruel to say so! I'm an honest lad, I am!”

Big tears began to run down his cheeks, washing aside the grime to reveal the lower strata of grime beneath.

The major had no experience of this sort of thing. Every available orifice on the little lad's face seemed to be gushing. He looked for help to Gabitass.

“You're a married man, aren't you, trooper? What are we supposed to do now?”

“I could give him a clout alongside the ear, sir,” said Trooper Gabitass.

“That's very unfeeling, trooper! Look here, I had a handkerchief on me somewhere…”

“Huh, I have my own wiper, thank you very much, I don't have to be condescended at,” sniffed Nobby, and pulled one out of his pocket. In fact, he pulled several dozen, including one with the initials C. M.-S. on it. They were tangled together like a conjuror's flags-of-all-nations, and dragged with them several purses and half a dozen spoons.

Nobby wiped his face with the first one, and thrust the entire collection back into his pocket. At this point he realized that all the men were staring at him.

“What? What?” he said defiantly.

“Tell us about this man Keel,” said the major.

“I don't know nuffin',” said Nobby automatically.

“Aha, that means you do know something,” said the major, who was indeed the sort of person who liked this kind of little triumph.

Nobby looked blank. The captain leaned forward to whisper to his superior officer.

“Er, only under the rules of mathematics, sir,” he said. “Under the rules of common grammar, he is merely being emphat—”

“Tell us about Keel!” the major shouted.

“Tell you what, major, why not leave that sort of thing to the experts?” said a voice.

The major looked up. Carcer and his men had entered the tent. The sergeant was grinning again.

“Got yourself a little prisoner, have you?” he said, stepping forward to examine Nobby. “Reckon you've got a ringleader here, yeah. Told you anything, has he? I shouldn't think so. You need special training to get the best out of lads like this, haha.”

He slipped his hand into his pocket. When it came out, the knuckles were ringed with brass.

“Now then, lad,” he said, as the soldiers watched in horror, “you know who I am, do you? I'm in the Particulars, me. And I can see two of you. One of them's a lively lad who's going to help the proper authorities with their business and the other is a lippy little bugger who's going to try to be clever. One of these lads has a future, and all his teeth. Now the funny thing about me, it's a little habit of mine, is that I never ask a question twice. So… you're not a criminal, are you?”

Nobby, his eyes huge and fixed on the brass knuckles, shook his head.

“You just do what you have to to survive, right?”

Nobby nodded.

“In fact you were probably a decent lad before you fell in with the rebels, I expect. Sang hymns and that.”

Nobby nodded.

“This man who calls himself Sergeant Keel is the ringleader of the rebels, yes?”

There was a moment of hesitation, and then Nobby raised a hand. “Um…everyone does what he tells them, is that the same thing?” he said.

“Yep. Is he charismatic?”

Nobby kept staring at the brass knuckles. “Um, um, um, I don't know. I haven't heard him cough much.”

“And what do they talk about beyond the barricade, my little lad?”

“Um…well, Justice an' Truth an' Freedom and stuff,” said Nobby.

“Aha. Rebel talk!” said Carcer, straightening up.

“Is it?” said the major.

“Take it from me, major,” said Carcer. “When you get a bunch of people using words like that, they're up to no good.” He looked down at Nobby. “Now, I wonder what I've got in my pocket for a good boy, eh? Oh, yes… someone's ear. Still warm. Here you go, kid!”

“Cor, thanks, mister!”

“Now run a long way away or I'll gut yer.”

Nobby fled.

Carcer glanced at the map spread on the desk. “Oh, you're planning a little sortie. That's nice. Don't want to upset the rebels, do we? Why aren't you bloody well attacking, major?”

“Well, they're not—”

“You're losing your troops to 'em! They hold a quarter of the city! And you're gonna sneak round the back. Across the bridge, I see, and up Elm Street. Quiet, like. Like you are frightened!” Carcer's hand smashed down on to the table, making the major jump.

“I'm frightened of no man!” he lied.

“You're the city right now!” said Carcer, a little speck of white foam appearing at the corner of his mouth. “They sneak. You don't. You ride right up to them and damn them to hell, that's what you do. They're stealing the streets from you! You take 'em back! They've put 'emselves beyond the Law! You take the Law to 'em!”

He stepped back, and the manic rage subsided as quickly as it had arrived.