Night Watch

all the time?”
    “I got customers to think of—” Nobby began.
    “Yeah, but I’m the one holding you up in one hand, right?” said Vimes.
    With his oversized boots dangling a foot above the ground, Nobby considered his position.
    “All the time?”
    “Right!”
    “Er…for something like that I’ve got to be looking at a lordship every day…”
    “A dollar? Guess again!”
    “Er…half a dollar?”
    “Not a chance. A dollar a week , and I won’t make your life utter misery, which, Nobby, I assure you I can do in so many little ways.”
    Still dangling, Nobby tried to work all this out.
    “So…I’ll be kind of like a copper, right?” he said, grinning artfully.
    “Kind of.”
    “Number One Suspect says it’s a good life being a copper, ’cos you can pinch stuff without getting nicked.”
    “He’s got that right,” said Vimes.
    “An’ he says if anyone gives you lip, you can bop ’em one and chuck them in the Tanty,” Nobby went on. “I’d like to be a copper one day.”
    “Who’s Number One Suspect?”
    “That’s what our mam calls Sconner, our dad. Er…payment up front, yeah?” Nobby added, hopefully.
    “What do you think?”
    “Ah. Right. No, eh?”
    “Correct. But I’ll tell you what…” He lowered Nobby to the ground. Light as a feather, he thought. “You come with me, kid.”
    Ankh-Morpork was full of men living in lodgings. Anyone with a spare room rented it out. And, in addition to the darning and stitching that was turning Miss Battye into one of the highest-earning seamstresses in the city, they needed something else that women were best able to supply. They needed feeding.
    There were plenty of hot-chair eating places like the one Vimes headed for now. It sold plain food for plain men. There wasn’t a menu. You ate what was put in front of you, you ate it quick, and you were glad to get it. If you didn’t like it, there were plenty who did. The dishes had names like Slumgullet, Boiled Eels, Lob Scouse, Wet Nellies, Slumpie, and Treacle Billy—good, solid stuff that stuck to the ribs and made it hard to get up out of the seat. They generally had a lot of turnip in there too, even if they weren’t supposed to.
    Vimes elbowed his way to the counter, dragging Nobby behind him. A chalked sign said ALL YOU CAN EAT IN TEN MINUTES FOR 10P.
    Beneath it, a large woman was standing bare-armed by a cauldron in which uncertain things bubbled in gray scum. She gave him an appraising look and then glanced at his sleeve.
    “What can I do for you, Sergeant?” she said. “What happened to Sergeant Knock?”
    “Comes in here a lot, does he?” said Vimes.
    “Dinner and supper.” Her look said it all: second helpings, too, and never pays.
    Vimes held up Nobby.
    “See this?” he said.
    “Is it a monkey?” said the woman.
    “Har har, very funny,” moaned Nobby as Vimes lowered him again.
    “He’s going to come in here for one square meal every day,” said Vimes. “All he can eat for ten pence.”
    “Yes? And who’s paying, may I ask?”
    “Me.” Vimes plonked a half dollar on the table. “That’s five days in advance. What’s the special today? Slumgullet? It’ll put hairs on his chest, when he gets a chest. Give him a big bowl. You might make a loss on this deal.”
    He shoved Nobby onto a bench, placed the greasy bowl in front of him, and sat down opposite.
    “You said a lady,” he said. “Don’t mess me about, Nobby.”
    “Have I got to share this, Sarge?” said Nobby, picking up a wooden spoon.
    “It’s all yours. Make sure you eat up every bit. There may be a test later,” said Vimes. “A woman, you said.”
    “Lady Meserole, Sarge,” said Nobby indistinctly, through a mouthful of mixed vegetables and grease. “Posh lady. Everyone calls her Madam. Come from Genua a few months ago.”
    “When did she ask you?”
    “This morning, Sarge.”
    “What? She just stopped you in the street?”
    “Er…I’ve got a kind of gen’ral contract with her, Sarge.”
    Vimes glared. It was better than speaking. Nobby wriggled uneasily.
    “Fact is, Sarge, she…er, caught me snickering her nolly last month. Hell’s bells, Sarge, she’s got a punch on her like a mule! When I come round, we got to talking, and she said a keen young lad like me could be useful as, like, an ear on the street.”
    Vimes continued to glare, but he was impressed. Young Nobby had been a gifted pickpocket. Anyone who caught him in the act was quick indeed. He turned up the