Night Watch - Terry Pratchett [140]
“Well done, Nobby!”
“Carcer, Sarge! He’s got a job with Snapcase! Captain of the Palace Guard, Sarge! And they gonna get you! Snapcase told ’em to, Sarge! My mate Scratch ’n’ Sniff is the under–boot boy at the palace and he was in the yard and heard ’em talking, Sarge!”
I should have known, Vimes thought. Snapcase was a devious devil. And now Carcer’s got his feet under another bastard’s table. Captain of the Guard…
“I haven’t been making a lot of friends lately,” said Vimes. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m going to run. If you lot melt away into the crowd you’ll be fine, I expect.”
“No fear, Sarge,” said Sam, and there was a general murmur of agreement.
“We had an amnesty,” said Dickins. “They can’t do this!”
“Anyway, they were shooting at everyone,” said one of the soldiers. “Bastards! They need a good going-over!”
“They’ve got bows,” said Vimes.
“So we ambush ’em, Sarge,” said Dickins. “Choose your ground and fight up close and a crossbow’s just a piece of wood.”
“Did any of you hear me?” said Vimes. “They’re after me. Not you. You do not want to mix it with Carcer. You, Snouty, you shouldn’t be doing this at your time of life.”
The old jailer glared at him through runny eyes.
“That’s a hell of a thing for you, hnah, to say to me, Sarge,” he said.
“How do we know he won’t decide to come after us anyway?” said Dickins. “An amnesty’s an amnesty, right? They can’t do this!” There was a general chorus of the lines of “Yeah, that’s right!”
It’s happening, Vimes thought. They are talking themselves right into it. But what can I do? We’ve got to face ’em. I’ve got to face ’em. I’ve got to face Carcer. The thought of leaving him here, with all he knows…
“How about if we head down Cable Street?” said Dickins. “Lots of little alleyways off there. They’ll go rushing along, thinking we’ve bolted for the Watch House, and we’ll ’ave ’em! We ain’t standing for this, Sarge.”
Vimes sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you. You’re of one mind?”
There was a cheer.
“Then I won’t make a speech,” said Vimes. “There isn’t time. I’ll just say this. If we don’t win this, if we don’t see them off…well, we’ve got to. Otherwise it’ll be…very bad for this city. Very bad.”
“That’s right,” Dickins cut in insistently. “There was an amnesty.”
“But, look,” said one of the soldiers. “I don’t know half the men here. If we’re going to close in, we want to know who’s on our side…”
“That’s right, hnah,” said Snouty. “I mean, some of them chasing us was watchmen!”
Vimes raised his eyes. The wide alley in front of them, known as Lobsneaks, stretched all the way to Cable Street. It was lined with gardens, and there were purple flowers on the bushes.
The morning air smelled of lilac.
“I recall a battle once,” said Dickins, looking up at a tree. “In history, it was. And there was this company, see, and they was a ragtag of different squads and all covered in mud in any case, and they found themselves hiding in a field of carrots. So, as a badge, they all pulled up carrots and stuck them on their helmets, so’s they’d know who their friends were and incidentally have a nourishing snack for later, which is never to be sneezed at on a battlefield.”
“Well? So what?” said Dibbler.
“So what’s wrong with a lilac flower?” said Dickins, reaching up and pulling down a laden branch. “Makes a spanking plume, even if you can’t eat it…”
And now, Vimes thought, it ends.
“I think they are very bad men!” said a high, rather elderly, but nevertheless determined voice from somewhere in the crowd, and there was a glimpse of a skinny hand waving a knitting needle.
“And I shall need a volunteer to escort Mrs. Soupson home,” he said.
Carcer looked down the length of Lobsneaks.
“Looks like we just follow the trail of egg,” he said. “Looks like Keel has a yellow streak.”
It didn’t get quite the laugh he’d expected. A lot of the men he’d been able to collect had a more physical sense of humor. But Carcer had, in his own way, some of Vimes’s qualities, only they were inverted. A certain kind of man looks up to someone who’s brave enough to be really