Night Watch полностью

Vimes was hazy on religion. He attended Watch funerals and went to such religious events as the proper fulfilling of the office of Commander entailed, but as for the rest…well, you saw things sometimes that made it impossible to believe not only in gods, but also in common humanity and your own eyes. From what he could remember, Keel had felt the same way. You got on with things. If there were any gods, you expected them to get on with things, too, and didn't interrupt them while they were working.

What could you say to a dead copper? What would he want said?

Ah…

He leaned closer. “Carcer's going to bloody swing for this,” he said, and stood back.

Behind him, Sweeper coughed theatrically. “Ready, your grace?” he said.

“Ready enough,” said Vimes.

“We were telling you about the armour,” said Sweeper. “It'll—”

“The thing is, commander,” Qu interrupted, “that you and this fellow Carcer and all the clothes and possessions you arrived with form an elongated trans-time anomaly, which is under considerable tension.”

Vimes turned and looked at Sweeper.

“It's very, very hard to move things out of the time where they belong but it takes much less effort to move them back to where they were,” Sweeper translated.

Vimes carried on staring.

“Everything really, really wants to stay where it should be,” Sweeper tried.

“You're right there,” said Vimes.

“All we do is…grease the way,” said Sweeper. “We give a little push, and it'll all snap back. And away you go. Have you had anything to eat this morning?”

“No!”

“Shouldn't be too messy, then,” said Sweeper. When Vimes looked puzzled he went on: “Undigested food. It'll stay here, you see.”

“You mean it'll come tearing out of—”

“No, no, no,” said Qu, quickly. “You won't notice. But a nourishing meal when you get back would be a good idea.”

“And the armour stays here?”

Qu beamed. “Yes, your grace. Everything. Eyepatch, socks, everything.”

“Boots, too?”

“Yes. Everything.”

“What about my drawers?”

“Yes, those too. Everything.”

“So I'll arrive in the nuddy?”

“The one costume that's in fashion anywhere,” said Sweeper, grinning.

“Then why did all my armour arrive with me when I came?” said Vimes. “And damn Carcer had his knives, that's for sure!”

Qu opened his mouth, but Sweeper answered faster.

“It takes a thousand steps to get to the top of a mountain but one little hop'll take you all the way back to the bottom,” he said. “Okay?”

“Well, I suppose it makes sen—” Vimes began.

“That isn't how it works at all, Lu-Tze!” wailed Qu.

“No,” said Sweeper, “but it's another good lie. Look, commander, we don't have a damn great thunderstorm and we don't have enough stored time. This is a field operation. It's the best we can do. We'll get you back, and your prisoner, although you almost certainly won't arrive in the same place, 'cos of quantum. It's hard enough making sure you don't arrive two hundred feet in the air, believe me. Pushing all your clothes as well, when they belong here, that just takes too much power. Now, are you ready? You need to go back to where you were standing. Get to Carcer as soon as you can. You must grab him, otherwise he'll stay behind.”

“Okay, but I've changed lots of things!” said Vimes.

“Leave that to us,” said Sweeper.

“What about Keel?” said Vimes, walking away with reluctance.

“Don't worry. We told you at the temple. We'll put him in your armour. He'll have died in battle.”

“Make sure nothing happens to young Sam!” said Vimes, as Qu carefully prodded him into position. The little stone columns began to spin.

“We will!”

“Make sure Reg Shoe gets a decent burial!”

“We will!”

“Not too deep, he'll be wanting to come out again in a few hours!”

Qu gave him a last prod.

“Goodbye, commander!”

Time came back.

Ned was looking at him.

“What happened just then, sarge? You blurred.”

“You only get one question, Ned,” said Vimes, fighting the moment of nausea. “Now, let's show Snapcase where the line's drawn, shall we? Let's finish it—”

They charged, the men falling in behind them.

Vimes remembered in slow motion. Some of Carcer's men ran at the sight of them, some raised their hastily reclaimed weapons, and Carcer stood there and grinned.

Vimes headed for him, ducking and weaving through the fight.

The man's expression changed as Vimes approached. Vimes was speeding up, shoulder-charging and thrusting other bodies away. Carcer raised his sword and took a stance, but there was no room for finesse in the melee and Vimes closed like a bull, knocking the sword up and grabbing Carcer by the throat.

“You're nicked, my ol' chum,” he said. And then it all went black.

He felt, later on, that there should have been more to it. There should have been rushing blue tunnels, or flashes, or the sun should have shot round and round the sky. Even pages tearing off a calendar and fluttering away would have been something.

But it was just the blackness of the deepest sleep, followed by pain as he hit the floor.