Snuff

grinning.
    â€œThat’s the ticket, my lad,” said Vimes, “you just saved yourself a dreadful pain in the unmentionables.” He made fists and beckoned suggestively to his bewildered adversary over the top of his left fist. The man came swinging and got a kick on the kneecap, which floored him, and he was picked up by Vimes, which metaphorically floored him again.
    â€œWhyever did you think I was going to box? That’s what we professionals call misdirection . You want to go for the hug? I would if I were a big bloke like you, but you ain’t going to get the chance.” Vimes shook his head sorrowfully. “Should have gone for the Marquis of Fantailer. I believe that has been carved on many a gravestone.” He took a generous pull of his cigar; the ash had yet to be disturbed.
    Enraged beyond belief, Jethro threw himself at Vimes and caught a glancing blow to his head, receiving at almost the same time a knee in the stomach which knocked all the breath out of him. They went down together with Vimes as the conductor of this orchestra. He made certain he ended on top, where he leaned down and hissed into Jethro’s ear, “Let’s see how smart you are, shall we? Are you a man who can control his temper? ’Cos if you aren’t, then I’ll give you a nose so wide that you’ll have to hold your handkerchief on the end of a stick. Don’t you, for one moment, think I’m not capable of it. But I reckon a blacksmith knows when to cool the metal, and I’m giving you a chance to say that at least you got the duke on the floor in front of all your friends, and we’ll stand up and shake hands like the gentlemen neither of us is, and the crowd will cheer and go into the pub to get happily ratted on the beer that I shall pay for. Are we men of one accord?”
    There was a muffled “Yes,” and Vimes stood up, took the blacksmith’s hand in his hand and raised it up high, which caused some slight puzzlement, but when he then said, “Sam Vimes invites you all to take a drink with him in Mr. Jiminy’s establishment!” everybody shrugged bewilderment aside to make room for the beer. The crowd surged into the pub, leaving the blacksmith and Vimes on their own—plus Willikins, who could be remarkably self-effacing when he wanted.
    â€œBlacksmiths should know about temper, too,” said Vimes, as the crowd dispersed pubward. “Sometimes cool is better than hot. I don’t know anything much about you, Mr. Jefferson, but the City Watch needs people who learn fast and I reckon you would soon make it to sergeant. We could use you as a smith, too. It’s amazing how dented the old armor can get when you’re standing on the faces of the poor.”
    Jethro stared down at his boots. “All right, you can beat me in a fight, but that doesn’t mean it’s right, all right? You don’t know the half of it!”
    There were sounds of merriment coming from the pub. Vimes wondered how embroidered that little scuffle would turn out to be. He turned back to the smith, who hadn’t moved. “Listen to me, you stupid young fool, I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth! When I was a kid the only spoons I ever saw were made of wood and you were lucky if there was some edible food on the end of them. I was a street kid, understand? If I had been dumped out here I would have thought it was paradise, what with food jumping out on you from every hedge. But I became a copper because they paid you and I was taught how to be a copper by decent coppers, because believe me, mister, I wake every night knowing that I could have been something else. Then I found a good lady and if I were you, kid, I’d hope that I’d find one of them, too. So I smartened myself up and then one day Lord Vetinari—you have heard of him, haven’t you, kid? Well, he needed a man to get things done, and the title opens doors so that I don’t actually have to kick them open myself, and do you know what? I reckon my boots have seen so much crime down the years that they walk me toward it of their own accord, and I know there’s something that needs kicking. So do you, I can smell it on you. Tell me what it is.”
    Jethro still stared at his own boots and said nothing.
    Willikins cleared his throat. “I wonder, commander, if it might help if I had a little talk with the young man, from what you might call a less