'Somewhere a long way off,' said Vimes. 'Uberwald?'
'No.'
'I have . . . business interests in Uberwald,' said Madam. 'Alas, the situation there is becoming quite unstable.'
'Right. I see,' said Vimes. 'And you'd like to have the significant pause type of business interests in Ankh-Morpork, I expect. If it can be stabilized.'
'Very good. Let us say that I think this city has a wonderful future and that I would like to be part of it, and that you are remarkably perspicacious.'
'No,' said Vimes. 'I'm very simple. I just know how things work. I just follow the money. Winder is a madman, and that's not good for business. His cronies are criminals, and that's not good for business. A new Patrician will need new friends, far-sighted people who want to be part of a wonderful future. One that's good for business. That's how it goes. Meetings in rooms. A little diplomacy, a little give and take, a promise here, an understanding there. That's how real revolutions happen. All that stuff in the streets is just froth . . .' Vimes nodded to the doors. 'Guests for a late supper? That was Doctor Follett's voice. A clever man, they used to- they call him. He'll pick the right side. If you've got the big Guilds with you, Winder is a dead man walking. But Snapcase won't do you much good.'
'Many people have great hopes of him.'
'What do you think?'
'I think he's a scheming, self-serving fool. But he's the best there is, at the moment. And where do you come in, sergeant?'
'Me? I'm staying outside. You've got nothing that I want.'
'You don't want anything?'
'I want lots of things, my lady. But you can't give them to me.'
'How would you like to be back in command?' The question hit him like a hammer. This was history. She couldn't know! How could she know? 'Ah,' said Madam, who had watched his expression. 'Rosemary did say thieves took some very expensive armour off you. Fit for a general, I hear.' She opened another bottle. Properly, too, Vimes noticed, through the shock. None of that amateur business with rocketing corks and wasted bubbles. 'Wouldn't that be strange if it was true?' Madam mused. 'A street- fighting man with the manner of a commander and the breastplate of a leader.' Vimes stared straight ahead. 'And who needs to know how he got here?' said Madam, to the air in general. 'We could take the view that here at last is a man who could truly take command of the City Watch.' The first thought that fizzed in Vimes's head like champagne was: bloody hell, I could do it! Chuck Swing out on his arse, promote some decent sergeants-
The second thought was: in this city? Under Snapcase? Now? We'd just be another gang. The third thought was: this is insane. It can't happen. It never did happen. You want to go home to Sybil. Thoughts one and two shuffled out of the way, feeling ashamed of themselves and mumbling yeah, right . . . Sybil ... yeah, obviously ... right. .. sorry . . . until they faded into silence. 'I've always had a talent for seeing promise,' said Madam, while he still stared at nothing. The fourth thought rose in the darkness like some ugly creature from the depths. You didn 't think about Sybil until thought three, it whispered. He blinked. 'You know the city needs-' Madam began. 'I want to go home,' said Vimes. 'I'm going to finish the job that's in front of me, and then I'm going home. That's what I'm going to do.'
'There are those who would say that if you are not for us, you're against us,' said Madam. 'For you? For what? For anything! No! But I'm not for Winder, either. I'm not supposed to be “for” people. And I don't take bribes. Not even if Sandra threatens me with a toadstool!'
'I believe it was a mushroom. Oh dear.' The lady gave him a smile. 'You are incorruptible?' Oh dear, here we go again, thought Vimes. Why did I wait until I was married to become strangely attractive to powerful women? Why didn't it happen to me when I was sixteen? I could have done with it then. He tried to glare, but that probably only made it worse. 'I've met a few incorruptible men,' said Madam Meserole. They tend to die horrible deaths. The world balances out, you see. A corrupt man in a good world, or a good man in a corrupt one . . . the equation comes out the same way. The world does not deal well with those who don't pick a side.'
'I like the middle,' said Vimes. 'That gives you two enemies. I'm amazed that you can afford so many, on a sergeant's pay. Please think of what you could be giving up.'
'I am. And I'm not going to help people to die just to replace one fool with another.'
'Then there is your door behind you, sergeant. I am very sorry we could not-'
'-do business?' said Vimes.
'I was going to say “reach a mutually beneficial agreement”. We are not very far from your Watch House. I wish you . . . luck.' She nodded towards the door. 'Such a shame,' she said, and sighed. Vimes stepped out into the rainy night, and shifted his weight from foot to foot, and then took a few experimental steps. Corner of Easy and Treacle Mine. A mix of flat-top cobbles and old bricks. Yeah. He went home. Madam stared at the closed door for a while, and then turned as the candles flickered slightly. 'You really are very good,' she said. 'How long have you been here?' Havelock Vetinari stepped out of the shadow in the corner. He wasn't wearing official Assassin's black, but loose clothes that were ... no real colour at all, just nondescript shades of grey. 'I've been here quite long enough,' he said, sprawling into the chair that Vimes had vacated. 'Not even the Aunts noticed you?'
'People look but don't see. The trick is to help them see nothing. But I think Keel would have seen me, if I hadn't been over here. He stares into shadows. Interesting.'
'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 aunty 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 an hour and two sugars.'
'You're a lifesaver, Snouty,' said Vimes, clasping it like the elixir of life. 'An' there's 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 towards 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 an envelope for the captain, and I took it up and there was the captain waiting, so I thought, this is funny, haha, I thought, he's not normally in this early-'
'Faster please, Snouty,' said Vimes, as the man started to watch the oscillating spoon again. 'Well, when I took him up his cocoa later on he was jus' sittin' there, hnah, starin' right at nothing. He said “thank you, Snouty” when I give him the cocoa, hnah, though. Always very polite in that, hnah, respect. But when I went up just now he was gone.'
'He's an old man, Snouty, you can't expect him to be here all-'
'So's his inkwell, sarge. He never took it home before.' And Vimes saw that Snouty's eyes were more red-rimmed than usual. He sighed. 'Any sign of the envelope?'
'No, sarge,' said Snouty, glancing again at the spoon in Nobby's hand. It was a very cheap one, Vimes noted, made of some pot metal. 'In that case we just keep the peace, Snouty,' he said. 'Not a lot of that about, sarge.'
'We'll have to see what we can find. Come with me.'
Snouty looked reluctant. 'Just want to keep an eye on the spoon, sarge; we've only got five left and kids like that one'll pinch the-'
'He can keep the damn spoon!' said Vimes. 'Spoons are not important at this point!' Nobby downed the last scalding mouthful, stuck the spoon in his pocket, stuck out a porridge-laden tongue at Snouty, dropped the bowl on the ground and took to his heels. Vimes strode back into the office, picked up the porridge ladle and rattled it on the sides of the empty cauldron. Heads looked up. 'All right, my sons! This is what we're going to do! All married men've got permission to nip home for an hour to stop your wives fretting! The rest of you, you're on unpaid overtime! Anyone surprised?' Wiglet raised a hand. 'We've all got family, sarge,' he said. 'And the best thing you can do for them is make sure there's a bit of law around the place,' said Vimes. 'We don't know what's been happening in the other divisions, except that it sounds bad. So this House is staying open, understand? Day and night! Yes, lance-constable?'
'But our mum will be worrying, sarge,' said young Sam. Vimes hesitated, but only for a moment. 'Snouty'll nip out with any messages you have, lad. The same goes for everyone else,' he said. 'We're going to go out on patrol soon. Yeah, I know we're Night Watch. So what? It's looking pretty black to me at the moment! Lance-constable, come on out in the yard, will you?' Vimes walked back out into the morning. In theory, one of the purposes of the yard was for training. It was seldom used for that. The Night Watch eschewed violence, as a rule. When threats or superior numbers had no effect, they preferred to run. There were some mouldering targets in a shed, along with some straw men for stabbing practice. Vimes tugged them out on to the cobbles as the lance-constable appeared behind him. 'I thought you said these things were useless, sarge.'