29 Night Watch by Pratchett Terry

Author:Pratchett, Terry [Terry, Pratchett,]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T22:08:32.818000+00:00

'You mean you haven't?' Vimes roared. He spun round and grabbed a bottle.

'Yes! No! I mean, if I sit quiet I'm sure I'll remember some more!'

Vimes held his gaze for a moment, and then dropped the bottle back in the crate. 'All right,' he said. 'It'll be a dollar a day, meals extra.'

'Right you are, sir!'

Vimes watched Ferret scuttle back into his cell and shut the door behind him, then he turned to Fred and Waddy.

'Go and wake up Marilyn,' he said. 'Let's deliver the other three.'

The rain was falling steadily and a thin mist filled Cable Street. The wagon came out of nowhere. Fred had urged Marilyn into something approaching a canter down the street, and when the horse came around the corner she was trying to keep ahead of the heavy, rumbling cart behind.

As the hurry-up wagon passed the station the rear door was flung open and two bodies were tumbled out on to the wet cobbles.

The guards rushed forward. One or two of them fired after the retreating cart but the arrows clattered harmlessly off the black iron strips.

The other men approached the tied-up bodies with some care. There were groans, punctuated by swearwords. And, pinned to one man, some paperwork.

They read the note. They did not laugh.

Vimes unharnessed the old horse, rubbed her down and checked on her feed. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the feed bins seemed fuller than they had been. Guilty consciences were at work, maybe.

Then he walked out into the cool night air. The lights were on in the Watch House. It was a beacon, now that the street lamps had been doused. Beyond the walls of the yard the real night had closed in, the old night with its tendrils of fog and crawling shadows. He relaxed, and wore it like an overcoat.

A shadow near the gate was deeper than it ought to be.

He felt for his cigar case again, cursed, and pulled a cigar out of his shirt sleeve. He cupped his hands when he lit it, but kept his eyes tight shut to hold the night vision.

Then he looked up, and blew a smoke ring. Yes. Everyone thought black didn't show up at night. They were wrong.

He walked over to shut the gate and then pulled out his sword in one fluid movement.

Sadie raised her head, revealing a pale oval of a face in the depths of her bonnet. 'Good morning, kind sir,' she said.

'Good morning, Sadie,' said Vimes wearily. To what do I owe this pleasure?'

'Madam wants to see you, kind sir.'

'If you mean Rosie, I've been a bit busy-'

Dotsie's handbag hit him on the back of the head.

'Madam doesn't like waiting, dearie,' were the last words he heard before night closed in all the way.

The Aunts were experts. Probably not even Mossy Lawn could turn someone off with such precision.

Vimes drifted awake. He was in an armchair. It was extremely comfortable. And someone was shaking him.

It was Sandra the Real Seamstress. She stared at him and said, 'He looks okay .

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