Night Watch - Terry Pratchett [120]
“Yep. Is he charismatic?”
Nobby kept staring at the brass knuckles.
“Um, um, um, I don’t know. I haven’t heard him cough much,” he managed.
“And what do they talk about beyond the barricade, my little lad?”
“Um…well, Justice an’ Truth an’ Freedom and stuff,” said Nobby.
“Aha. Rebel talk!” said Carcer, straightening up.
“Is it?” said the major.
“Take it from me, Major,” said Carcer. “When you get a bunch of people using words like that, they’re up to no good.” He looked down at Nobby. “Now, I wonder what I’ve got in my pocket for a good boy, eh? Oh, yes…someone’s ear. Still warm. Here you go, kid!”
“Cor, thanks, mister!”
“Now run a long way away or I’ll gut yer.”
Nobby fled.
Carcer glanced at the map spread on the desk. “Oh, you’re planning a little sortie. That’s nice. Don’t want to upset the rebels, do we? Why aren’t you bloody well attacking, Major?”
“Well, they’re not—”
“You’re losing your troops to ’em! They hold a quarter of the city! And you’re gonna sneak round the back. Across the bridge, I see, and up Elm Street. Quiet-like. Like you are frightened!” Carcer’s hand smashed down onto the table, making the major jump.
“I’m frightened of no man!” he lied.
“You’re the City right now!” said Carcer, a little speck of white foam appearing at the corner of his mouth. “They sneak. You don’t. You ride right up to them and damn them to hell, that’s what you do. They’re stealing the streets from you! You take ’em back! They’ve put ’emselves beyond the Law! You take the Law to ’em!”
He stepped back, and the manic rage subsided as quickly as it had arrived.
“That’s my advice,” he said, “Of course, you know your own business best. Me and what’s left of my poor lads, we’re going to go out and fight. I’m sure their lordships will appreciate anything you feel you can do.”
He strode out, the Particulars falling in behind him.
“Er…you all right, Clive?” said the captain. Only the whites of the major’s eyes were showing.
“What a horrible man,” said the major quietly.
“Er…yes, of course. On the other hand—”
“Yes, yes, yes. I know. We have no choice. We have orders. That…weasel is right. If the damn thing is there in the morning, I’ve got no career and nor have you. Show of strength, frontal attack, take no prisoners…that’s what our orders are. Stupid, stupid orders.” He sighed.
“I suppose we could disobey…” said the captain.
“Are you mad? And then what would we be? Don’t be a fool, Tom. Muster the men, get the ox teams hitched up, let’s make a bit of a show for the sake of it. Let’s just get it over with!”
Vimes was shaken awake. He looked up into his own face, younger, less lined, more terrified.
“Wha’?”
“They’re bringing up siege weapons, Sarge! They’re coming down the street, Sarge!”
“What? That’s stupid! The barricade is highest here! A couple of men could defend it!”
Vimes leaped to his feet. It must be a feint. A stupid feint, too. Just here Waddy and his mates had wedged two big carts across the road, and they’d become the nucleus of a solid wall of wood and rubble. But there was a narrow, low entrance for people to come through, which let them into the Republic with their head at just the right height for a gentle tap if they turned out to be soldiers. People were scrambling through now, like rats.
Vimes climbed up the barricade and looked over the top. At the far end of the street a big metal wall was advancing, surrounded by flaming torches. That was all there was to see in a city without lights. But he knew what it was.
It was called Big Mary, and it was mounted on a heavy cart. Vimes had seen it before. There would be a couple of oxen behind the cart, pushing it. The walls weren’t solid metal, but merely a skin to stop defenders throwing fire at the wooden planks underneath. And the whole thing was simply to defend the men who, behind that cozy shelter, had the big, big hooks on the end of the long chains…
They’d fix them in the barricade, and the oxen would be turned around in the traces, and maybe another four beasts would be added, and then there was nothing you could