Night Watch

men’ll be behind the barricades over here …”
    He turned on his heel and marched back to the waiting watchmen.
    “Right, lads,” he said. “You heard. Pounce and Gaskin, you take the hurry-up wagon up to the bridge and turn it over. Waddy and Nancyball and you, too, Fred…go and nick some carts. You grew up round here, so don’t tell me you’ve never done that before. I want a couple blocking the streets down here, and the rest, I want you to run them into the alleymouths until they wedge. You men know the area. Block up all little back ways.”
    Colon rubbed his nose. “We could do that on the river side, Sarge, but it’s all alleys on The Shades’ side. Can’t block ’em all.”
    “I wouldn’t worry about those,” said Vimes. “Cavalry can’t come through there. You know what they call a horse in The Shades?”
    Colon grinned. “Yeah, Sarge. Lunch.”
    “Right. The rest of you, get all the benches and tables out of the Watch House—”
    It dawned on him that none of the men had moved. There was a certain…problem in the air.
    “Well?”
    Billy Wiglet removed his helmet and wiped his forehead.
    “Er…how far is this going to go, Sarge?”
    “All the way, Billy.”
    “But we took the oath, Sarge, and now we’re disobeying orders and helping rebels. Doesn’t seem right, Sarge,” said Wiglet wretchedly.
    “You took an oath to uphold the law and defend the citizens without fear or favor,” said Vimes. “And to protect the innocent. That’s all they put in. Maybe they thought those were the important things. Nothing in there about orders, even from me. You’re an officer of the law, not a soldier of the government.”
    One or two of the men looked longingly at the other end of the street, empty and inviting.
    “But I won’t stop anyone who wants to walk,” said Vimes. They stopped looking.
    “’Ullo, Mister Keel,” said a sticky voice behind him.
    “Yes, Nobby?” he said without turning around.
    “’Ere, how did you detect it was me, Sergeant?”
    “It’s an amazing talent, kid,” said Vimes, turning, against all wisdom, to look at the urchin. “What’s been happening?”
    “Big riot in Sator Square, Sarge. And they say people’ve broke into the Dolly Sisters Watch House and thrown the lieutenant out the window. An’ there’s lootin’ all over the place, they say, an’ the Day Watch are out chasin’ people, only most of ’em are hidin’ now ’cos—”
    “Yeah, I get the picture,” sighed Vimes. Carcer had been right. Coppers were always outnumbered, so being a copper only worked when people let it work. If they refocused and realized you were just another standard idiot with a pennyworth of metal for a badge, you could end up as a smear on the pavement.
    He could hear shouting now, a long way off.
    He looked around at the hesitant watchmen.
    “On the other hand, gentlemen,” he said, “if you are going to leave, where are you going to go to? ”
    The same thought had clearly occurred to Colon and the others.
    “We’ll get the carts,” he said, hurrying off.
    “An’ I wants a penny,” said Nobby, holding out a grubby hand. To the boy’s amazement, Vimes gave him a dollar, saying, “And just keep telling me everything, will you?”
    Tables and benches were already being dragged out of the Watch House, and after only a couple of minutes, Waddy arrived with a cartload of empty barrels. Barricades were easy in these streets, it was keeping them clear that had always been the problem.
    The watchmen set to work. This was something they understood. They’d done it when they were kids. And, perhaps, they thought, hey, this time we’re wearing uniforms. We can’t be in the wrong.
    While Vimes was struggling to wedge a bench into the growing wall, he was aware of people behind him. He worked steadily, however, until someone gave a delicate cough. Then he turned.
    “Yes? Can I help you?”
    There was a small group of people, and it was clear to Vimes that it was a group pushed together out of shared terror, because, by the look of them, they’d have nothing to do with one another if they could possibly avoid it.
    The spokesman, or at least the one in front, looked almost exactly like the kind of person Vimes had pictured when thinking about the Hedge-Argument Murder.
    “Erm, Officer…”
    “Yes, sir?” said Vimes cheerfully.
    “What, er, are you doing, exactly?”
    “Keeping the peace, sir. This piece, to be exact.”
    “You said that there’s,