Night Watch

your Sergeant Colon would not realize 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. The Watch House was in ruins. 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, “afterward we could—”
    “Afterward 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 pawnshop 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 toward morning.

About the Author
    Terry Pratchett’s novels have sold more than thirty million (give or take a few million) copies worldwide. He lives in England.
    www.terrypratchettbooks.com

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TERRY PRATCHETT and Discworld:
    “A master of laugh-out-loud fiction…Pratchett’s ‘Monty Python’-like plots are almost impossible to describe…. [He] has created an alternate universe full of trolls, dwarfs, wizards, and other fantasy elements, and he uses that universe to reflect on our own culture with entertaining and gloriously funny results. It’s an accomplishment nothing short of magical.”
    Chicago Tribune
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    “H umorously entertaining (and subtly thought-provoking) fantasy…Pratchett’s Discworld books are filled with humor and with magic, but they’re rooted in, of all things, real life and cold, hard reason.”
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    “P ratchett has now moved beyond the limits of humorous fantasy and should be recognized as one of the more significant