Night Watch

eat it…”
    And now, Vimes thought, it ends.
    “I think they are very bad men!” said a high, rather elderly, but nevertheless determined voice from somewhere in the crowd, and there was a glimpse of a skinny hand waving a knitting needle.
    “And I shall need a volunteer to escort Mrs. Soupson home,” he said.

    Carcer looked down the length of Lobsneaks.
    “Looks like we just follow the trail of egg,” he said. “Looks like Keel has a yellow streak.”
    It didn’t get quite the laugh he’d expected. A lot of the men he’d been able to collect had a more physical sense of humor. But Carcer had, in his own way, some of Vimes’s qualities, only they were inverted. A certain kind of man looks up to someone who’s brave enough to be really bad.
    “Are we going to get into trouble for this, Captain?”
    And, of course, you got those who were just along for the ride. He turned to Sergeant Knock, with Corporal Quirke lurking behind him. He fully shared Vimes’s view of them, although he approached it, as it were, from the other direction. You couldn’t trust either of them. But they hated Keel with that gnawing, nerve-sapping hatred that only the mediocre can really bring to bear, and that was useful.
    “How do you think we’re going to get into trouble, Sergeant?” he said. “We’re working for the government. ”
    “He’s a devious devil, sir!” said Knock, as if this was a character flaw.
    “Now you lot listen to me, right?” said Carcer. “No mess-ups this time! I want Keel alive, okay? And that kid Vimes. You can do what the hell you like to the rest of them.”
    “Why d’you want him taken alive?” said a quiet voice behind Carcer. “I thought Snapcase wanted him dead. And what’s the kid done that’s so wrong?”
    Carcer turned. To his mild surprise, the watchman behind him didn’t flinch.
    “What’s your name, mister?” he said.
    “Coates.”
    “Ned’s the one I told you about, sir,” said Knock urgently, leaning over Carcer’s shoulder. “Keel gave him the push, sir, after—”
    “Shut up,” said Carcer, without taking his eyes off Coates. There wasn’t a hint of fear there, not even a glimmer of bravado. Coates just stared back.
    “Did you just come along for the ride, Coates?” he said.
    “No, Captain. I don’t like Keel. But Vimesy is just a kid that got dragged along. What’re you going to do to him?”
    Carcer leaned forward; Coates did not lean back.
    “You were a rebel, weren’t you?” he said. “Don’t like to do what you’re told, eh?”
    “They’re going to get a big drink of ginger beer!” said a voice drunk with evil delight.
    Carcer turned and looked down at the skinny, black-clad Ferret. He was somewhat battered, partly because he’d put up a fight when the watchmen had tried to pry him out of his cell, and mostly because Todzy and Muffer had been waiting outside. But he’d been allowed to live; beating something like Ferret to death was, to the other two, an embarrassing and demeaning waste of fist.
    He certainly flinched under Carcer’s gaze. His whole body was a flinch.
    “Did I ask you to speak, you little dog’s tonker?” Carcer inquired.
    “Nosir!”
    “Right. Remember that. It could save your life one day.” Carcer turned his attention back to Ned. “Okay, sunshine, this is the bright new dawn you wanted. You asked for it, you got it. We’ve just got to sweep away a few of yesterday’s leftovers. By order of Lord Snapcase, your mate. And it ain’t your job to ask why and who, but young Vimesy? Why, I think he’s a game lad who’ll be a credit to the city if he’s kept out of the way of bad company. Now, Knock says you’re good at thinking. So now you tell me what you think Keel’s gonna do.”
    Ned gave him a look that went on for slightly longer than Carcer felt comfortable with.
    “He’s a defender,” he said eventually. “He’ll be back at the Watch House. He’ll set a few traps, get the men tooled up, and wait for you.”
    “Huh?” said Carcer.
    “He doesn’t like to see his men hurt,” said Ned.
    “This is not going to be his day, then,” said Carcer.

    Halfway down Cable Street was a barricade. It wasn’t much. A few doors, a table or two…by the standards of the big one that was even now being turned back into unbelligerent dining-room furniture, it barely existed at all.
    Carcer’s informal crew walked slowly, staring up at buildings and into the mouths of alleys. People in the street fled at