Night Watch by Terry Pratchett Page B

Sadie, and they have an amazing memory for faces. But you act as if you own the place, John Keel.”
    “Do I?”
    “You do. It’s the way you stand. Officers stand like that. You eat well. Maybe a bit too well. You could lose a few pounds. And then there’s the scars all over you. I saw ’em in Mossy’s place. Your legs are tanned from the knees down, and that says ‘watchman’ to me, because they go bare-legged. But I know every watchman in the city and you’re not one of them, so maybe you’re a military man. You fight by instinct, and dirty, too. That means you’re used to fighting for your life in a melee, and that’s odd, because that says to me ‘foot soldier,’ not officer. The word is that the lads took some fine armor off you. That’s officer. But you don’t wear rings. That’s foot soldier—rings catch in things, can pull your finger off if you’re not careful. And you’re married.”
    “How can you tell that? ”
    “Any woman could tell that,” said Rosie Palm smoothly. “Now, step sharp. We’re out after curfew as it is. The Watch won’t bother much about us, but they will about you.”
    Curfew, thought Vimes. That was a long time ago. Vetinari never ordered curfews. They interfered with business.
    “I think perhaps I lost my memory when I was attacked,” he said. That sounded good, he thought. What he really needed now was somewhere quiet, to think.
    “Really? I think perhaps I’m the Queen of Hersheba,” said Rosie. “Just remember, kind sir. I’m not doing this because I’m interested in you, although I’d admit to a macabre fascination about how long you’re going to survive. If it hadn’t been a cold wet night I’d have left you in the road. I’m a working girl, and I don’t need trouble. But you look like a man who can lay his hands on a few dollars, and there will be a bill.”
    “I’ll leave the money on the dressing table,” said Vimes.
    The slap in the face knocked him against the wall.
    “Consider that a sign of my complete lack of a sense of humor, will you?” said Rosie, shaking some life back into her hand.
    “I’m…sorry,” said Vimes. “I didn’t mean to…I mean…look, thank you for everything. I mean it. But this is not being a good night.”
    “Yes, I can see that.”
    “It’s worse than you think. Believe me.”
    “We all have our troubles. Believe me,” said Rosie.
    Vimes was glad of the Agony Aunts behind them as they walked back to The Shades. This was the old Shades, and Lawn lived a street’s width away from it. The Watch never set foot here. In truth, the new Shades wasn’t a lot better, but people had at least learned what happened if anyone attacked a watchman. The Aunts were a different matter. No one attacked the Aunts.
    A night’s sleep, thought Vimes. Maybe, in the morning, this won’t have happened.
    “She wasn’t there, was she,” said Rosie after a while. “Your wife? That was Lord Ramkin’s house. Are you in trouble with him?”
    “Never met the man,” said Vimes absently.
    “You were lucky someone told us where you’d gone. Those men were probably in the pay of someone up there. They’re a law unto themselves, over in Ankh. Some rough man walking around with no tradesman’s tools…well, he’s to be turned off the patch, and if they rob you blind while they’re doing it who’s going to care?”
    Yes, thought Vimes. That’s the way it was. Privilege, which just means “private law.” Two types of people laugh at the law; those that break it and those that make it. Well, it’s not like that now…
    …but I’m not in “now” now. Damn those wizards…
    The wizards. Right! In the morning I’ll go and explain! Easy! They’ll understand! I’ll bet they can send me right back to when I left! There’s a whole university full of people to deal with this! It’s not my problem anymore!
    Relief filled his body like warm pink mist. All he had to do was get through the night…
    But why wait? They were