Thud!

me?”
    “He created me. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who watches the watchmen? Me. I watch him. Always. You will not force him to murder for you.”
    “What kind of human creates his own policeman?”
    “One who fears the dark”
    “And so he should,” said the entity, with satisfaction.
    “Indeed. But I think you misunderstand. I am not here to keep darkness out. I’m here to keep it in.” There was a clink of metal as the shadowy watchman lifted a dark lantern and opened its little door. Orange light cut through the blackness. “Call me…the Guarding Dark. Imagine how strong I must be.”
    The Summoning Dark backed desperately into the alley, but the light followed it, burning it.
    “And now,” said the watchman, “get out of town.”
    —and went down as a werewolf landed on his back.
    Angua drooled. The hair along her spine stood out like a saw blade. Her lips curled back like a wave. Her growl was from the back of a haunted cave. All together, these told the brain of anything monkey-shaped that movement meant death. And that stillness, while it also meant death, didn’t mean immediate, this actual second , death, and was therefore the smart-monkey option.
    Vimes didn’t move. The growl knotted his muscles. Terror was in control.
    I salute you , said a thought that was not his, and he felt the sudden absence of something whose presence he had not noticed before. In the blackness behind his eyes, some dark fin swished and vanished.
    He heard a whimper, and the weight on him disappeared. He rolled over and saw, fading in the middle of the air, a crude drawing of an eye with a tail. It dwindled into nothing, and the all-enveloping darkness slowly gave way to flames and the light of the vurms. Blood had been spilled; they were pouring down the walls. He felt…
    A certain amount of time passed. Vimes jerked awake.
    “I read it for him!” he said, mostly to reassure himself.
    “You did, sir,” said the voice of Angua, behind him. “Very clearly, too. We were more than two hundred yards away. Well done, sir. We thought you ought to have a rest.”
    “What have I done well?” said Vimes, trying to sit up. The movement filled his world with pain, but he managed a brief glimpse before slumping back.
    There was a lot of smoke in the cave, but there were actual torches flickering here and there. And a great many dwarfs, some distance away, some sitting down, some standing around in groups.
    “Why are there so many dwarfs here, Sergeant?” he asked, looking up at the cavern roof. “That is, why are there so many dwarfs here that aren’t actually trying to kill us?”
    “They’re from the Low King, sir. We’re their prisoners…sort of…er…but not exactly…”
    “Of Rhys? Bugger that!” said Vimes, trying to get to his feet again. “I saved his bloody life once!” He managed to get upright, but then the world pivoted around him, and he would have fallen if Angua hadn’t caught him and lowered him onto a rock. Well, at least he was sitting up now…
    “Not exactly prisoners,” Angua said. “We can’t go anywhere. But since we wouldn’t know where to go even it we could go anywhere, it’s all a bit moot. Sorry I’m only in a shift, sir, you know how it is. The dwarfs have promised to fetch my gear. Er…it’s all gone political, sir. The dwarf in command seems a decent sort but he’s way out of his depth, so he’s sticking with what he knows, sir. And, er, he doesn’t know a lot. Do you remember anything about what happened? You’ve been out for a good twenty minutes.”
    “Yes. There were…wooly lambs…” Vimes’s voice trailed into silence for a while. Somehow, what he’d just said took the ring of veracity and dropped it in a deep, deep hole. “There weren’t wooly lambs, right?” he asked hopelessly.
    “I didn’t see any,” said Angua carefully. “I did see a striding, screaming, vengeful maniac, sir. But in a good way,” she added.
    The internal Vimes looked at memories he didn’t remember from the first time around.
    “I—” he began.
    “Everything’s…sort of fine, sir,” said Angua quickly. “But come and see this. Bashfullsson said you ought to see everything.”
    “Bashfullsson…he’s the know-it-all dwarf, right?” he said.
    “Ah, it’s all coming back, sir,” said Angua. “Good. He was a bit worried about that.”
    Vimes was steadier on his feet now, but his right arm hurt like hell, and all the other pains that the day had