Night Watch - Terry Pratchett [81]
“He is a very angry man,” said Madam.
“You just made him angrier.”
“I believe you’ll get your diversion,” said Madam.
“Yes. I believe so, too.”
Madam leaned over and patted him on the knee.
“There,” she said, “your auntie thinks of everything…” She stood up. “I’d better go and entertain my guests. I am a very entertaining person. By tomorrow night, Lord Winder will not have many friends.” She drained her mug of champagne. “Doctor Follett is such a charming man, don’t you think? Is that his own hair, do you know?”
“I have not sought the opportunity to find out,” said Havelock. “Is he trying to get you drunk?”
“Yes,” said Madam. “You have to admire him.”
“They say he can play a mean lute,” said Havelock.
“Fascinating,” said Madam.
She set her face into a genuine smile of pleasure and opened the big double doors at the other end of the room.
“Ah, Doctor,” she said, stepping into the haze of smoke. “A little more champagne?”
Vimes slept in a corner, standing up. It was an old trick, shared by night watchmen and horses. It wasn’t exactly sleep, you’d die if you tried to keep it up for more than a few nights, but it took some of the tiredness away.
A few of the other men had already mastered the trick. Others made use of tables or benches. No one seemed inclined to go home, even when a sort of dawn suffused the rain and Snouty came in with a cauldron of fearsome porridge.
Vimes opened his eyes.
“Mug of tea, Sarge?” said Snouty. “Stewed for a hour and two sugars.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Snouty,” said Vimes, clasping it like the elixir of life.
“An’ there some kid outside says he’s got to speak to you, hnah, specially,” Snouty went on. “Shall I give him a clip alongside the head?”
“What does he smell like?” said Vimes, sipping the scalding, corrosive tea.
“Bottom of a baboon’s cage, Sarge.”
“Ah, Nobby Nobbs. I’ll go out and see him. Bring him a big bowl of porridge, will you?”
Snouty looked uncomfortable about this. “If you’ll, hnah, take my advice, Sarge, it don’t pay to encourage kids like—”
“See these stripes, Snouty? Well done. A big bowl.”
Vimes took his tea out into the damp yard, where Nobby was lurking against a wall.
There were hints that it was going to be a sunny day. That should bring things on, after the overnight rain. The lilacs, for example…
“What’s happening, Nobby?”
Nobby waited a moment to see if a coin was forthcoming.
“Pretty bad everywhere, Sarge,” he said, giving up for now but remaining hopeful. “A constable got killed in Lobbin Clout. Hit by a stone, people say. Someone got their ear cut off ’cos of the fighting in Nap Hill. Cavalry charge, Sarge. Running fights everywhere. All the Watch Houses got hit bad—”
Vimes listened gloomily to the list. It was the usual bloody business. Angry, frightened people on both sides, all crushed up together. It could only get worse. Nap Hill and Dolly Sisters sounded like war zones already
…see the little angels rise up high…
“Anything happen in Cable Street?” he said.
“Just a few people,” said Nobby. “A bit of shouting and running away, that sort of thing.”
“Right,” said Vimes. Even a mob wasn’t that stupid. It was still only the kids and the hotheads and the drunks now. It’d get worse. You’d have to be really mad to attack the Unmentionables.
“There’s bad stuff happening everywhere,” said Nobby. “Except here, o’course. We’re well out of it.”
No, thought Vimes. It’ll pivot on us in the end.
Snouty emerged from the Watch House’s rear door, carrying a big bowl of porridge with a spoon stuck in it. Vimes nodded toward Nobby, and the bowl was handed over with extreme reluctance.
“Sarge?” said Snouty, keeping his eye on the spoon as the boy ate, or, more correctly, gobbled the stuff.
“Yes, Snouty?”
“Have we got any orders?”
“I don’t know. Is the captain here?”
“That’s it, Sarge,” said Snouty. “A runner come last night with a envelope for the captain, and I took it up and there was the captain waiting,