Night Watch

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 son 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. For ever.' 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 him.



The men with the lilac, I have to say, fought like tigers. Not skilfully, I'll admit, but when they saw that their leader was down they took the other side to pieces. Astonishing. 'And then, afterwards, I took a look at John Keel. It was John Keel. How could there be any question about that? Blood on him of course. There was blood everywhere. His wounds looked somewhat old, I thought. And death, as we know, changes people. Yet I remember wondering: this much? So I put it down as half a mystery and today . . . sergeant ... we find the other half of a mystery. It's wonderful, isn't it, how alike men can be? I can imagine that even your Sergeant Colon would not realise anything. After all, he saw Keel die and he watched you grow up-'



'Where is this leading?' Vimes demanded. 'Nowhere, commander. What could I prove? And to what end would I prove it?'



'Then I'm saying nothing.'



'I cannot imagine what you could say,' said Vetinari. 'No. I agree. Let us leave the dead alone. But for you, commander, as a little gift on the occasion of the birth of-'



'There's nothing I want,' said Vimes quickly. 'You can't promote me any further. There's nothing left to bribe me with. I've got more than I deserve. The Watch is working well. We don't even need a new bloody dartboard-'



'In memory of the late John Keel-' Vetinari began. 'I warned you-'



'-I can give you back Treacle Mine Road.' Only the high-pitched squeak of bats, hunting around the poplars, broke the silence that followed. Then Vimes muttered: 'A dragon burned it years ago. Some dwarfs live in the cellars now.'



'Yes, commander. But dwarfs . . . well, dwarfs are so refreshingly open about money. The more money the city offers, the less dwarf there is. The stable's still there, and the old mining tower. Stout stone walls all around. It could all be put back, commander. In memory of John Keel, a man who in a few short days changed the lives of many and, perhaps, saved some sanity in a mad world. Why, in a few months you could light the lamp over the door.' Again, all that could be heard was the bats. Perhaps they could even bring back the smell, Vimes thought. Perhaps there could be a window above the privy that'd spring open if you thumped it just right. Perhaps they could teach new coppers to learn old tricks- 'We could do with the space, it's true,' he conceded, with some effort.



'I can see you like the sound of it already,' said Vetinari. 'And if you care to come along to my office tomorrow we can settle the-'



'There's a trial tomorrow,' said Vimes sharply. 'Ah, yes. Of course. And it will be a fair one,' said the Patrician. 'It'd better be,' said Vimes. 'I want this bastard to hang, after all.'



'Well, then,' said Vetinari, 'afterwards we could-'



'Afterwards I'm going home to my family for a while,' said Vimes. 'Good! Well said,' said Vetinari, not missing a beat. 'You have a gift, I have noticed, for impressive oratory.' And Vimes heard the gentle note of warning as he added, 'At this time, commander, and in this place.'



'That's sergeant-at-arms, thank you,' said Vimes. 'For now.' He grabbed Carcer's shirt collar, and dragged him to justice. On the way back to Scoone Avenue, in the dark of night, Vimes walked along the alley behind Clay Lane and stopped when he reckoned he was at a point halfway between the backs of the pawn shop and the shonky shop, and therefore behind the temple. He threw his cigar stub over the fence. He heard it land on gravel, which moved a little. And then he went home. And the world turned towards morning.