Night Watch

wonderfully fresh, pink faces.
    “Not exactly. In fact, it’s—”
    “Are you stupid, fellow? Don’t you know that all barricades are to be torn down by order of the Patrician?”
    The third horseman, who had been staring at Vimes, urged his horse a little closer.
    “What’s that pip on your shoulder, Officer?” he said.
    “Means I’m Sergeant-at-Arms. Special rank. And who’re you?”
    “He doesn’t have to tell you that!” said the first trooper.
    “Really?” said Vimes. The man was getting on his nerves. “Well, you’re just a trooper and I’m a bleedin’ sergeant, and if you dare speak to me like that again, I’ll have you down off that horse and thump you across the ear, understand?”
    Even the horse took a step backward. The trooper opened his mouth to speak, but the third horseman raised a white-gloved hand.
    Oh dear, thought Vimes, focusing on the sleeve of the red jacket. The man was a captain. Not only that, he was an intelligent one, by the look of him. He hadn’t mouthed off until he’d had a chance to assess the situation. You got them sometimes. They could be dangerously bright.
    “I note, Sergeant-at-Arms,” said the captain, enunciating the rank with care and without apparent sarcasm, “that the flag over the barricade is the flag of Ankh-Morpork.”
    “It’s the one out of our Watch House,” said Vimes, and added, “sir.”
    “You know that the Patrician has declared that the building of barricades is an act of rebellion?”
    “Yessir.”
    “And?” said the captain patiently.
    “Well, he would say that, sir, wouldn’t he…”
    The faintest hint of a smile skimmed across the captain’s face.
    “We can’t allow lawlessness, Sergeant-at-Arms. If we all disobeyed the law, where would we be?”
    “There’s more coppers per person behind that barricade than anywhere else in the city, sir,” said Vimes. “You could say it’s the most law-abiding place around.”
    Now there was the sound of raised voices from behind the barricade.
    “ —we own all your helmets, we own all your shoes, we own all your generals, touch us and you’ll loooose … Morporkia, Morporkia, Morpooroorooorooooorrroorrr—”
    “Rebel songs, sir!” said trooper number one. The captain sighed.
    “If you listen, Hepplewhite, you might note that it is the national anthem sung very badly,” he said.
    “We can’t allow rebels to sing that, sir!”
    Vimes saw the captain’s expression. It had a lot to say about idiots.
    “Raising the flag and singing the anthem, Hepplewhite, are, while somewhat suspicious, not in themselves acts of treason,” said the captain. “And we are urgently required elsewhere.” He saluted Vimes, who found himself returning the salute. “We shall leave you, Sergeant-at-Arms. I trust your day will be full of interest. In fact, I know it.”
    “But it’s a barricade, sir,” the trooper insisted, glaring at Vimes.
    “It’s just a pile of furniture, man. People have been spring-cleaning, I expect. You’ll never be an officer if you can’t see straight. Follow me, if you please.”
    With a last nod to Vimes, the captain led his men away at a trot.
    Vimes leaned against the barricade, put the crossbow on the ground, and fished out the cigar case. He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out the battered carton of little cigars, and, with some delicacy, slotted them into place.
    Hmm. To the left was Cable Street. In front, Treacle Mine Road stretched all the way to Easy Street.
    Now, if a man could get barricades all the way up to Easy Street, there’d be quite a slice of the Lower Hub-side behind it, which’d be a lot easier to protect…
    We’ll do it. After all, we did it.
    Of course, that’d mean having the Unmentionables’ headquarters in here with us. That’s like pitching your tent over a nest of vipers.
    We’ll handle that. We handled it.
    A couple of elderly people pushing carts full of miscellaneous belongings approached the barricade. They gave Vimes a look of mute pleading. He nodded toward, and they scuttled through.
    All we need now is—
    “Sarge?” Fred Colon was leaning over the top of the heap. He looked more out of breath than usual.
    “Yes, Fred?”
    “There’s lots of people coming across the Pons Bridge. There’s things happening everywhere, they say. Shall we let ’em in?”
    “Any soldiers?”
    “I don’t reckon so, Sarge. It’s mostly old people and kids. And my granny.”
    “Trustworthy?”
    “Not when she’s had a few