Night Watch

wasn’t too big yet. What you didn’t need at a time like this was people at the back, craning to see and asking what was going on. And the lit-up house was fully illuminating the lit-up man.
    “Friend, if you take my advice you’ll not consider that,” said Vimes. He took another sip of his cocoa. It was only lukewarm now, but along with the cigar it meant that both his hands were occupied. That was important. He wasn’t holding a weapon. No one could say afterward that he had a weapon.
    “I’m no friend to you people!” snapped the man and smashed the bottle on the wall by the steps.
    The glass tinkled to the ground. Vimes watched the man’s face, watched the expression change from drink-fueled anger to agonizing pain, watched the mouth open…
    The man swayed. Blood began to ooze from between his fingers, and a low, thin animal sound escaped from between his teeth.
    That was the tableau, under the light—Vimes sitting down with his hands full, the bleeding man several feet away. No fight, no one had touched anyone…he knew the way rumor worked, and he wanted this picture to fix itself in people’s minds. There was even ash still on the cigar.
    He stayed very still for a few seconds, and then stood up, all concern.
    “Come on, one of you help me, will you?” he said, tugging off his breastplate and the chain-mail shirt underneath it. He grabbed his shirt sleeve and tore off a long strip.
    A couple of men, jerked into action by the voice of command, steadied the man who was dripping blood. One of them reached for the hand.
    “Leave it,” Vimes commanded, tightening the strip of sleeve around the man’s unresisting wrist. “He’s got a handful of broken glass. Lay him down as gently as you can before he falls over but don’t touch nothing until I’ve got this tourniquet on. Sam, go into the stable and pinch Marilyn’s blanket for the boy. Anyone here know Doctor Lawn? Speak up!”
    Someone among the awed bystanders volunteered that he did, and was sent running for him.
    Vimes was aware of the circle watching him; a lot of the watchmen were peering around the doorway now.
    “Saw this happen once,” he said aloud—and added mentally “in ten years time”—“it was in a bar fight. Man grabbed a bottle, didn’t know how to smash it, ended up with a hand full of shards, and the other guy reached down and squeezed .” There was a satisfying groan from the crowd. “Anyone know who this man is?” he added. “Come on, someone must…”
    A voice in the crowd volunteered that the man could well be Joss Gappy, an apprentice shoemaker from New Cobblers.
    “Let’s hope we can save his hand, then,” said Vimes. “I need a new pair of boots.”
    It wasn’t funny at all, but it got another of those laughs, the ones people laugh out of sheer frightened nervousness. Then the crowd parted as Lawn came through.
    “Ah,” he said, kneeling down by Gappy. “You know, I don’t know why I own a bed. Trainee bottle-fighter?”
    “Yes.”
    “Looks like you’ve done the right things but I need light and a table,” said Lawn. “Can your men take him into the Watch House?”
    Vimes had hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Oh well, you had to make the best of it…
    He pointed randomly at figures in the crowd. “You and you and you and you and you, too, lady,” he said. “You can help Fred and Waddy take this young man inside, okay? And you’re to stop with him, and we’ll leave the doors open, right? All you lot out here’ll know what’s going on. We’ve got no secrets here. Everyone understand?”
    “Yeah, but you’re a copper—” a voice began.
    Vimes darted forward and hauled a frightened young man out of the crowd by his shirt.
    “Yeah, I am,” he said. “And see that lad over there? He’s a copper, too. His name’s Sam Vimes. He lives in Cockbill Street with his mum. And that’s Fred Colon, just got married, got a couple of rooms in Old Cobblers. And Exhibit C there is Waddy, everyone round here knows Waddy. Billy Wiglet there, he was born in this street. Have I asked you your name?”
    “N-no…” the man mumbled.
    “That’s ’cos I don’t care who you are,” said Vimes, letting the man go and looking round at the crowd. “Listen to me, all of you! My name’s John Keel! No one gets taken into this Watch House without me knowing why! You’re all here as witnesses! Those of you I pointed out, you come on inside to see fair play all round. Do the rest of you want to hang