Night Watch

And stopped. Red rage froze.

There was The Beast, all around him. And that's what it was. A beast. Useful, but still a beast. You could hold it on a chain, and make it dance, and juggle balls. It didn't think. It was dumb. What you were, what you were, was not The Beast.

You didn't have to do what it wanted. If you did, Carcer won.

He dropped the sword.

Carcer stared at him, the gleam of Vimes's sudden smile more worrying than the rictus of his rage. Then metal gleamed in his hand. But Vimes was already on him, grabbing the hand, slamming it again and again on John Keel's headstone until the fourth knife dropped from bleeding fingers. He dragged the man upright with both hands forced up behind his back and rammed him hard against the stone.

“See that up in the sky, Carcer?” he said, his mouth by the man's ear. “That's the sunset, that is. That's the stars. And they'll shine all the better on my lad Sam tomorrow night 'cos they won't be shining down on you, Carcer, by reason of the fact that before the dew's off the leaves in the morning I'll drag you in front of Vetinari, and we'll have the witnesses there, lots of 'em, and maybe even a lawyer for you if there's any of 'em who could plead for you with a straight face and then, Carcer, we'll take you to the Tanty, one gallows, no waiting, and you can dance the hemp fandango. And then I'll bleedin' well go home and maybe I'll even have a hard-boiled egg.”

“You're hurting!”

“You know, you're right there, Carcer!” Vimes managed to get both the man's wrists in a steel grip, and ripped the sleeve off his own shirt. “I'm hurting and I'm still doing it all by the book.” He wrapped the linen around the wrists a couple of times and knotted it firmly. “I'll make sure there's water in your cell, Carcer. I'll make sure you get breakfast, anything you like. I'll make sure the hangman doesn't get sloppy and let you choke to death. I'll even make sure the trapdoor is greased.” He released the pressure. Carcer stumbled, and Vimes kicked his legs from under him.

“The machine ain't broken, Carcer. The machine is waiting for you,' he said, tearing a sleeve off the man's own shirt and fashioning it into a crude binding for his ankles. The city will kill you dead. The proper wheels'll turn. It'll be fair, I'll make sure of that. Afterwards you won't be able to say you didn't have a fair trial. Won't be able to say a thing, haha. I'll see to that, too…”

He stood back.

“Good evening, your grace,” said Lord Vetinari. Vimes spun around. There was a change of texture in the darkness, which could have been man-shaped.

Vimes snatched up his sword and peered into the night. The shape came forward, became recognizable.

“How long were you there?” he demanded.

“Oh…some little while,” said the Patrician. “Like you, I prefer to come alone and…contemplate.”

“You were very quiet!” said Vimes accusingly.

“Is that a crime, your grace?”

“And you heard—?”

“A very neat arrest,” said Vetinari. “Congratulations, your grace.”

Vimes looked at the unbloodied sword.

“I suppose so,” he said, temporarily derailed.

“On the birth of your son, I meant.”

“Oh…yes. Oh. Of course. Yes. Well…thank you.”

“A healthy lad, I am given to understand.”

“We'd have been just as happy with a daughter,” said Vimes, quickly.

“Quite so. These are modern times, after all. Oh, I see you have dropped your badge.”

Vimes glanced at the long grass.

“I'll come and find it in the morning,” he said. “But this,” he picked up the moaning Carcer and slung him over his shoulder with a grunt, “is going back to Pseudopolis Yard right now.”

They walked slowly down the gravel path, leaving the scent of lilac behind. Ahead was the everyday stink of the world.

“You know,” said Lord Vetinari, after a few moments, “it has often crossed my mind that those men deserve a proper memorial of some sort.”

“Oh yes?” said Vimes, in a non-committal voice. His heart was still pounding. “In one of the main squares, perhaps?”

“Yes, that would be a good idea.”

“Perhaps a tableau in bronze?” said Vimes sarcastically. “All seven of them raising the flag, perhaps?”

“Bronze, yes,” said Vetinari.

“Really? And some sort of inspiring slogan?” said Vimes.

“Yes, indeed. Something like, perhaps, ‘They Did The Job They Had To Do’?”

“No,” said Vimes, coming to a halt under a lamp by the crypt entrance. “How dare you? How dare you! At this time! In this place! They did the job they didn't have to do, and they died doing it, and you can't give them anything. Do you understand? They fought for those who'd been abandoned, they fought for one another, and they were betrayed. Men like them always are. What good would a statue be? It'd just inspire new fools to believe they're going to be heroes. They wouldn't want that. Just let them be. Forever.”

They walked in heavy silence, and then Vetinari said, as if there had been no outburst: “Happily, it appears that the new deacon at the temple here has suddenly heard the call.”

“What call?” said Vimes, his heart still racing.

“I'm never very good at religious matters, but apparently he was filled with a burning desire to spread the good word to the benighted heathen,” said Vetinari.

“Where?”

“I suggested Ting Ling.”

“That's right on the other side of the world!”

“Well, a good word can't be spread too far, sergeant.”

“Well, at least it puts—”

Vimes stopped at the entrance gates. Overhead, another lamp flickered. He dropped Carcer to the ground.

“You knew? You bloody well knew, didn't you?”

“Not until, oh, one second ago,” said Vetinari. “As one man to another, commander, I must ask you: did you ever wonder why I wore the lilac?”

“Yeah. I wondered,” said Vimes.

“But you never asked.”

“No. I never asked,” said Vimes shortly. “It's a flower. Anyone can wear a flower.”

“At this time? In this place?”

“Tell me, then.”

“Then I'll recall the day I was sent on an urgent errand,” said Vetinari. “I had to save the life of a man. Not a usual errand for an Assassin although, in fact, I had already saved it once before.” He gave Vimes a quizzical look.

“You'd shot a man who was aiming a crossbow?” said Vimes.

“An inspired guess, commander! Yes. I have an eye for the…unique. But now I was fighting time. The streets were blocked. Chaos and confusion were everywhere, and it wasn't as if I even knew where he could be found. In the end, I took to the rooftops. And thus I came at last to Cable Street, where there was a different sort of confusion.”

“Tell me what you saw,” said Vimes.

“I saw a man called Carcer…vanish. And I saw a man called John Keel die. At least, I saw him dead.”

“Really,” said Vimes.

“I joined the fight. I snatched up a lilac bloom from a fallen man and, I have to say, held it in my mouth. I'd like to think I made some difference; I certainly killed four men, although I take no particular pride in that. They were thugs, bullies. No real skill. Besides, their leader had apparently fled, and what morale they had had gone with