Men at Arms

haven’t really had a chance to look around,” she said. “But I saw a place in Gleam Street.”
    Which meant that they had to cross the river, at least two of them trying to indicate to passers-by that they weren’t with at least one of the other two. Which meant that, with desperate nonchalance, they were looking around.
    Which meant that Cuddy saw the dwarf in the water.
    If you could call it water.
    If you could still call it a dwarf.
    They looked down.
    “You know,” said Detritus, after a while, “that look like that dwarf who make weapons in Rime Street.”
    “Bjorn Hammerhock?” said Cuddy.
    “That the one, yeah.”
    “It looks a bit like him,” Cuddy conceded, still talking in a cold flat voice, “but not exactly like him.”
    “What d’you mean?” said Angua.
    “Because Mr. Hammerhock,” said Cuddy, “didn’t have such a great big hole where his chest should be.”

    Doesn’t he ever sleep? thought Vimes. Doesn’t the bloody man ever get his head down? Isn’t there a room somewhere with a black dressing gown hanging on the door?
    He knocked on the door of the Oblong Office.
    “Ah, captain,” said the Patrician, looking up from his paperwork. “You were commendably quick.”
    “Was I?”
    “You got my message?” said Lord Vetinari.
    “No, sir. I’ve been…occupied.”
    “Indeed. And what could occupy you?”
    “Someone has killed Mr. Hammerhock, sir. A big man in the dwarf community. He’s been…shot with something, some kind of siege weapon or something, and dumped in the river. We’ve just fished him out. I was on the way to tell his wife. I think he lives in Treacle Street. And then I thought, since I was passing…”
    “This is very unfortunate.”
    “Certainly it was for Mr. Hammerhock,” said Vimes.
    The Patrician leaned back and stared at Vimes.
    “Tell me,” he said, “how was he killed?”
    “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it…there was just a great big hole. But I’m going to find out what it was.”
    “Hmm. Did I mention that Dr. Cruces came to see me this morning?”
    “No, sir.”
    “He was very…concerned.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I think you upset him.”
    “Sir?”
    The Patrician seemed to be reaching a decision. His chair thumped forward.
    “Captain Vimes—”
    “Sir?”
    “I know that you are retiring the day after tomorrow and feel, therefore, a little…restless. But while you are captain of the Night Watch I am asking you to follow two very specific instructions…”
    “Sir?”
    “You will cease any investigations connected with this theft from the Assassins’ Guild. Do you understand? It is entirely Guild business.”
    “Sir,” Vimes kept his face carefully immobile.
    “I’m choosing to believe that the unspoken word in that sentence was a yes , captain.”
    “Sir.”
    “And that one, too. As for the matter of the unfortunate Mr. Hammerhock…The body was discovered just a short while ago?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Then it’s out of your jurisdiction, captain.”
    “What? Sir?”
    “The Day Watch can deal with it.”
    “But we’ve never bothered with that hours-of-day-light jurisdiction stuff!”
    “Nevertheless, in the current circumstances I shall instruct Captain Quirke to take over the investigation, if it turns out that one is necessary.”
    If one is necessary. If people don’t end up with half their chest gone by accident. Meteorite strike, perhaps , thought Vimes.
    He took a deep breath and leaned on the Patrician’s desk.
    “Mayonnaise Quirke couldn’t find his arse with an atlas! And he’s got no idea about how to talk to dwarfs! He calls them gritsuckers! My men found the body! It’s my jurisdiction!”
    The Patrician glanced at Vimes’ hands. Vimes removed them from the desk as if it had suddenly grown red-hot.
    “Night Watch. That’s what you are, captain. Your writ runs in the hours of darkness.”
    “It’s dwarfs we’re talking about! If we don’t get it right, they’ll take the law into their own hands! That usually means chopping the head off the nearest troll! And you’ll put Quirke on this?”
    “I’ve given you an order, captain.”
    “But—”
    “You may go.”
    “You can’t—”
    “I said you may go , Captain Vimes!”
    “ Sir .”
    Vimes saluted. Then he turned about, and marched out of the room. He closed the door carefully, so that there was barely a click.
    The Patrician heard him thump the wall outside. Vimes wasn’t aware, but there were a number of