Night Watch

off until the end.
    What else had the old monk said? History finds a way? Well, it was going to have to come up with something good, because it was up against Sam Vimes now.
    He glanced up and saw young Sam watching him.
    “You okay, Sarge?”
    “Fine, fine.”
    “Only you’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes, looking at your cigars.”
    Vimes coughed, tucked the case away, and pulled himself together.
    “Half the pleasure’s in the anticipation,” he said.
    The night wore on. News came through, from barricades at bridges and gates. There were forays, more to test the defenders’ strength of will than make a serious dent in the defenses. And there were even more deserters.
    One reason for the desertion rate was that those people of a practical turn of mind were working out the subtle economics. The People’s Republic of Treacle Mine Road lacked all the big, important buildings in the city, the ones that traditional rebels were supposed to take. It had no government offices, no banks, and very few temples. It was almost completely bereft of important civic architecture.
    All it had was the unimportant stuff. It had the entire slaughterhouse district, and the butter market, and the cheese market. It had the tobacco factors, and the candlemakers, and most of the fruit and vegetable warehouses, and the grain and flour stores. This meant that while the Republicans were being starved of important things like government, banking services, and salvation, they were self-sufficient in terms of humdrum, everyday things like food and drink.
    People are content to wait a long time for salvation, but prefer dinner to turn up inside an hour.
    “A present from the lads down at The Shambles, Sarge,” said Dickins, arriving with a wagon. “They said it’d only spoil otherwise. Is it okay to dish ’em out to the field kitchens?”
    “What’ve you got?” said Vimes.
    “Steaks, mostly,” said the old sergeant, grinning. “But I liberated a sack of onions in the name of the revolution!” He saw Vimes’s expression change. “No, Sarge, the man gave them to me, see. They need eating, he said.”
    “What did I tell you? Every meal will be a feast in the People’s Republic!” said Reg Shoe, striding up. He still hung on to his clipboard; people like Reg tend to. “If you could just take it along to the official warehouse, Sergeant?”
    “What warehouse?”
    Reg sighed. “All food must go into the common warehouse and be distributed by my officials according to—”
    “Mr. Shoe,” said Dickins. “There’s a cart with five hundred chickens coming up behind me, and there’s another full of eggs. There’s nowhere to send ’em, see? The butchers have filled up the icehouses and smoke rooms, and the only place we can store this grub is in our guts. I ain’t particularly bothered about officials.”
    “On behalf of the Republic, I order you—” Reg began, and Vimes put his hand on his shoulder.
    “Off you go, Sergeant,” he said, nodding to Dickins. “A word in your ear, Reg?”
    “Is this a military coop?” said Reg uncertainly, holding his clipboard.
    “No, it’s just that we’re under siege here, Reg. This is not the time. Let Sergeant Dickins sort it out. He’s a fair man, he just doesn’t like clipboards.”
    “But supposing people get left out?” said Reg.
    “There’s enough for everyone to eat themselves sick, Reg.”
    Reg Shoe looked uncertain and disappointed, as though this prospect was less pleasing than carefully rationed scarcity.
    “But I’ll tell you what,” said Vimes, “if this goes on, the city will make sure the deliveries come in by other gates. We’ll be hungry then. That’s when we’ll need your organizational skills.”
    “You mean we’ll be in a famine situation?” said Reg, the light of hope in his eyes.
    “If we aren’t, Reg, I’m sure you could organize one,” said Vimes and realized he’d gone just a bit too far. Reg was only stupid in certain areas, and now he looked as though he was going to cry.
    “I just think it’s important to be fair—” the man began.
    “Yeah, Reg. I understand. But there’s a time and a place, you know? Maybe the best way to build a bright new world is to peel some spuds in this one? Now, off you go. And you, Lance Constable Vimes, you go and help him…”
    Vimes climbed back up the barricade. The city beyond was dark again, with only the occasional chink of light from a shuttered window. By comparison, the streets