Night Watch

it to them.
    But the policeman part thought: how do little monks know I’m called Keel? I smell a rat.
    The majority said: it’s a thirty-year-old rat, then.
    And the policeman said: yes, that’s why it smells.
    “Look, I’m going to have to go and check something,” he said. “I’ll…probably be back.”
    “Well, I can’t chain you up,” said Rosie. She smiled a grim little smile and went on: “That costs extra. But if you don’t come back yet have any intention of staying in this city, then the Aunts—”
    “I promise you, the last thing I want to do is leave Ankh-Morpork,” said Vimes.
    “That actually sounded convincing,” said Rosie. “Off you go, then. We’re past curfew now. But why don’t I think you’ll be bothered by that?”
    As he disappeared in the gloom, Dotsie sidled up to Rosie.
    “You want we should follow him, dearie?”
    “Don’t bother.”
    “You should have let Sadie give him a little prod, dear. That slows them down.”
    “I think it takes quite a lot to slow that man down. And we don’t want trouble. Not at a time like this. We’re too close.”

    “You don’t want to be out at a time like this, mister.”
    Vimes turned. He’d been hammering on the closed gates of the University.
    There were three watchmen behind him. One of them was holding a torch. Another was holding a bow. A third had clearly decided that activities for tonight would not include heavy lifting.
    Vimes raised his hands slowly.
    “I expect he wants to be in a nice cold cell for the night,” said the one with the torch.
    Oh dear, thought Vimes. It’s the Comedian of the Year contest. Coppers really oughtn’t to try this, but they still did.
    “I was just visiting the University,” he said.
    “Oh, yes?” said the one without either torch or bow. He was portly, and Vimes could make out the tarnished gleam of a sergeant’s stripes. “Where d’you live?”
    “Nowhere,” said Vimes. “I’ve just arrived. And shall we move right along? I don’t have a job and I don’t have any money. And neither of those is a crime.”
    “Out after curfew? No visible means of support?” said the sergeant.
    “I got my legs,” said Vimes.
    “At the moment, hur, hur,” said one of the men. He stopped when Vimes looked at him.
    “I want to make a complaint, sergeant,” said Vimes.
    “What about?”
    “You,” said Vimes. “And the Brothers Grin here. You’re not doing it right. If you’re going to arrest someone, you take charge right away. You’ve got a badge and a weapon, yes? And he’s got his hands up, and a guilty conscience. Everyone’s got a guilty conscience. So he’s wondering what you know and what you’re going to do, and what you do is fire off the questions, sharply. You don’t make silly jokes, ’cos that makes you too human, and you keep him off balance so he can’t quite think a clear sentence, and, above all, you don’t let him move like this and grab your arm and pull it up so it almost breaks like this and grab your sword and hold it to your throat like this. Tell your man to lower that sword, will you? The way he’s waving it around, he could hurt someone.”
    The sergeant gurgled.
    “Right,” said Vimes. “Oh, sergeant…this is a sword ? Ever sharpen it? What do you use it for, bludgeoning people to death? Now, what you’re going to do is, you’re all going to put your weapons on the ground over there, and then I’m going to let the Sarge go and I’ll leg it up that alley, okay? And by the time you’ve got your weapons, and believe me I’d advise you to get hold of weapons before coming after me, I’ll be well away. End of problem all round. Any questions?”
    All three watchmen were silent. Then Vimes heard a very faint, very close noise. It was the sound of the hairs in his ears rustling as, with great care, the tip of a crossbow bolt gently entered his ear.
    “Yes, sir, I have a question,” said a voice behind him. “Do you ever listen to your own advice?”
    Vimes felt the pressure of the crossbow against his skull, and wondered how far the arrow would go if the trigger was pulled. An inch would be far too far.
    Sometimes you just had to take the lumps. He dropped the sword with great and exaggerated care, released his grip on the sergeant, and stepped away meekly while the fourth watchman maintained his aim.
    “I’ll just stand with my legs apart, shall I?” he said.
    “Yeah,” growled the sergeant, turning around, “yeah, that’ll save