Night Watch by Terry Pratchett Page A

and time slips, and humans mess it up, too, wasting it and gaining it. And then there’s quantum, of course.” The monk sighed. “There’s always bloody quantum. So what with one thing and another, we think we’re doing well if yesterday happens before tomorrow, quite frankly. You, Mister Vimes, got caught up in a bit of…an event. We can’t put it right, not properly. You can.”
    Vimes sat back. “I’ve got no choice, have I?” he said. “As my old sergeant used to say…you do the job that’s in front of you.” He hesitated. “And that’s going to be me, isn’t it? I taught me all I know…”
    “No. I explained.”
    “I didn’t understand it. But perhaps I don’t have to.”
    Sweeper sat down.
    “Good. And now, Mister Vimes, I’ll take you back inside and we’ll work out what you need to know from all this, and Qu’ll set up the spinners and we’ll just…bounce you in time a little so that you give yourself the message. You know you did it, because you saw it. We can’t have you running around knowing all about us.”
    “I’ll get suspicious.”
    “You’ll have to make it convincing.”
    “I’ll still be suspicious.”
    “You won’t trust even yourself?”
    “I’m a devious character. I could be hiding something. How are you going to get me back to the Watch House? Don’t even think about giving me some kind of potion.”
    “No. We’ll blindfold you, twirl you round, take you the long way, and walk you back. I promise.”
    “Any other advice?” said Vimes, gloomily.
    “Just be yourself,” said Sweeper. “See it through. There’ll come a time when you’ll look back and see how it all made sense.”
    “Really?”
    “I wouldn’t lie. It’ll be a perfect moment. Believe me.”
    “But…” Vimes hesitated.
    “Yes?”
    “You must know there’s another little problem if I’m going to be Sergeant Keel. I’ve remembered what day this is. And I know what’s going to happen.”
    “Yes,” said Sweeper. “I know, too. Shall we talk about that?”

    Captain Tilden blinked.
    “What happened there?” he said.
    “Where?” said Vimes, trying to fight down nausea. Time coming back had felt like being squeezed just for a moment in a giant vise.
    “You blurred, man.”
    “Perhaps I’m a bit tired of this,” said Vimes. “Listen, captain, I am John Keel. I can prove it, okay? Ask me some questions. You’ve got my papers there, haven’t you?”
    Tilden hesitated for a moment. He was a man whose mind was ponderous enough to have momentum; it was quite hard for his thoughts to change direction.
    “Who is commander of the Pseudopolis Watch, then?” he said.
    “Sheriff Macklewheet,” said Vimes.
    “Aha! Wrong! Fallen at the very first fence, what? In fact, you fool, it’s Sheriff Pearlie—”
    “Hnah, excuse me, sir…” said Snouty nervously.
    “Yes? What?”
    “Hnah, it is Macklewheet, sir. Pearlie died last week. Heard it in the, hnah, pub.”
    “Fell into the river when drunk,” said Vimes helpfully.
    “That’s what I heard, hnah, sir,” said Snouty.
    Tilden looked furious.
    “You could’ve known that, what?” he said. “It doesn’t prove anything!”
    “Ask me something else, then,” said Vimes. “Ask me what Macklewheet said about me.” And I just hope I’ve got the answers right, he added to himself.
    “Well?”
    “Said I was the best officer on his force and he was sorry to see me go,” said Vimes. “Said I was of good character. Said he wished he could pay me the twenty-five dollars a month I was going to get here—”
    “I never offered you—”
    “No, you offered me twenty dollars and now that I’ve seen the mess here I’m not taking it!” Vimes rejoiced. Tilden hadn’t even learned how to control a conversation. “If you pay Knock twenty dollars, he owes you nineteen dollars change! The man couldn’t talk and chew gum at the same time. And look at this, will you?”
    Vimes dumped his handcuffs on the desk. The gaze of Snouty