Jingo. Part 26

"A common misconception," said Leonard of Quirm, turning to face them.

Colon could see the tip of the rocket in the depths of the tube, and had a sudden image of stars and b.a.l.l.s.

"Now, apparently you two have to step into this alley here and come with me," said Leonard. "I'm very sorry about this, but his lordship has explained to me at great length how the needs of society as a whole may have to overrule the rights of a particular individual. Oh, and I've just remembered. You have to put your hands up."

Sand had been spilled across the big table in the Rats Chamber.

Lord Rust felt a sensation akin to pleasure as he surveyed it. There were the little square boxes for the towns and cities, and cut-out palm trees to indicate the known oasisies. And, although he was uneasy about the word "oasisies," Lord Rust looked at it and saw that it was good. Especially since it was a map of Klatch and everyone knew that Klatch was sand anyway, which made it rather satisfying in an existential sort of way, although this sand here had been commandeered from the heap behind Chalky the troll's wholesale pottery and bore the occasional cigarette end and trace of feline incontinence that would probably not be found in the real desert, or certainly not to scale.

"Here would be a good landing area," he said, pointing with his stick. would be a good landing area," he said, pointing with his stick.

His equerry tried to look helpful. "The El Kinte peninsula," he said. "That's the closest point to us, sir."

"Exactly! We can be across the straits in jig time."

"Very good, sir," said Lieutenant Hornett, "but...you don't think the enemy might be expecting us there? It being such an obvious landing site?"

"Not obvious at all to the trained military thinker, sir! They won't be expecting us there precisely because because it is so obvious, d'y'see?" it is so obvious, d'y'see?"

"You mean...they'll think only a complete idiot would land there, sir?"

"Correct! And they know we're not not complete idiots, sir, and therefore that will be the last place they will be expecting us, d'y'see? They'll be expecting us somewhere like"-his stick stabbed into the sand-"here." complete idiots, sir, and therefore that will be the last place they will be expecting us, d'y'see? They'll be expecting us somewhere like"-his stick stabbed into the sand-"here."

Hornett looked closely. In the street outside, someone started to bang a drum.

"Oh, you mean Eritor," he said. "Where I believe there is a concealed landing area, and two days' forced march through good cover would have us at the heart of the empire, sir."

"Exactly!"

"Whereas landing at El Kinte means three days over sand dunes and past the fortified city of Gebra..."

"Precisely. Wide-open s.p.a.ces! And that is where we can practice the art art of warfare." Lord Rust raised his voice above the drumming. "That's how you settle these things. One decisive battle. Us on one side, the Klatchians on the other. THAT IS HOW THESE THINGS ARE D-" of warfare." Lord Rust raised his voice above the drumming. "That's how you settle these things. One decisive battle. Us on one side, the Klatchians on the other. THAT IS HOW THESE THINGS ARE D-"

He threw down his pointer. "Who the devil is making that infernal noise?"

The equerry walked across to the window. "It's someone else recruiting, sir," he said.

"But we're all here!"

The equerry hesitated, as the bearers of bad tidings to short-tempered men often do.

"It's Vimes, sir..."

"Recruiting for the Watch Watch?"

"Er...no, my lord. For a regiment. Er...the banner says 'Sir Samuel Vimes's First of Foot,' my lord-"

"The arrogance of the man. Go and-No, I'll go myself!"

There was a crowd in the street. In the center there rose the bulk of Constable Dorfl, and a key thing about the golem was that if he was banging a drum then no one was going to ask him to stop. No one except possibly Lord Rust, who strode up and s.n.a.t.c.hed the drumsticks out of his hands.

"Yerss, it are species of your choice's life in der First of Foot!" shouted Sergeant Detritus, unaware of the events going on behind him. "You learnin' a trade! You learnin' self-respek! Also you get spiffy uniform plus all der boots you can eat-here, dat's my banner!"

"What's the meaning of this?" said Rust, flinging the homemade banner on to the ground. "Vimes can't do this!"

A figure detached itself from the wall, where it had been watching the show.

"You know, I rather think I can," said Vimes. He handed Rust a piece of paper. "It's all here, my lord. With references citing the highest authorities, in case you are in any doubt."

"Citing the-?"

"On the role of a knight, my lord. In fact the duties duties of a knight, funnily enough. A lot of it is pretty d.a.m.n stupid stuff, riding around the place on one of those b.l.o.o.d.y great horses with curtains round it and so on, but of a knight, funnily enough. A lot of it is pretty d.a.m.n stupid stuff, riding around the place on one of those b.l.o.o.d.y great horses with curtains round it and so on, but one one of them says in time of need a knight of them says in time of need a knight has has to raise and maintain-you'll laugh when I tell you this-a body of armed soldiers! No one could have been more surprised than me, I don't mind telling you! Seems there's nothing for it but I have to go out and get some chaps together. Of course, most of the Watch have joined, well, you know how it is, disciplined lads, anxious to do their bit, so that saved to raise and maintain-you'll laugh when I tell you this-a body of armed soldiers! No one could have been more surprised than me, I don't mind telling you! Seems there's nothing for it but I have to go out and get some chaps together. Of course, most of the Watch have joined, well, you know how it is, disciplined lads, anxious to do their bit, so that saved me me a bit of effort. Except for n.o.bby n.o.bbs, 'cos he says if he leaves it till Thursday he's going to have enough white feathers for a mattress." a bit of effort. Except for n.o.bby n.o.bbs, 'cos he says if he leaves it till Thursday he's going to have enough white feathers for a mattress."

Rust's expression would have preserved meat for a year.

"This is a nonsense," he said. "And you, Vimes, certainly are no knight. Only a king can make-"

"There's a good few lordships in this city created by the Patricians," said Vimes. "Your friend Lord Downey, for one. You were saying?"

"Then if you persist in playing games I will say that before a knight is created he must spend a night's vigil watching his armor-"

"Practically every night of my life," said Vimes. "A man doesn't keep an eye on his armor round here, that man's got no armor in the morning."

"In prayer prayer," said Rust sharply.

"That's me," said Vimes. "Not a night has gone by without me thinking, 'Ye G.o.ds, I hope I get through this alive.'"

"-and he must have proved himself on the field of combat. Against other trained men, Vimes. Not vermin and thugs."

Vimes started to undo the strap of his helmet.

"Well, this isn't the best of moments, my lord, but if someone'll hold your coat I can spare you five minutes..."

In Vimes's eyes Rust recognized the fiery gleam of burning boats.

"I know what you're doing, Vimes, and I am not going to rise to it," he said, taking a step back. "In any case, you have had no formal training in arms."

"That's true," said Vimes. "You've got me there, right enough. No one ever trained me in arms. I was lucky there." He leaned closer and lowered his voice so that the watching crowd wouldn't hear. "Y'see, I know know what 'training in arms' means, Ronald. There hasn't been a real war in ages. So it's all prancing around wearing padded waistcoats and waving swords with k.n.o.bs on the end so no one'll really get hurt, isn't it? But down in the Shades no one's had any training in arms either. Wouldn't know an epee from a sabre. No, what they're what 'training in arms' means, Ronald. There hasn't been a real war in ages. So it's all prancing around wearing padded waistcoats and waving swords with k.n.o.bs on the end so no one'll really get hurt, isn't it? But down in the Shades no one's had any training in arms either. Wouldn't know an epee from a sabre. No, what they're good good at is a broken bottle in one hand and a length of four-by-two in the other and when you face 'em, Ronnie, you know you aren't going off for a laugh and a jolly drink afterward, 'cos they want you at is a broken bottle in one hand and a length of four-by-two in the other and when you face 'em, Ronnie, you know you aren't going off for a laugh and a jolly drink afterward, 'cos they want you dead dead. They want to kill kill you, you see, Ron? And by the time you've swung your nice shiny broadsword they've carved their name and address on your stomach. And you, you see, Ron? And by the time you've swung your nice shiny broadsword they've carved their name and address on your stomach. And that's that's where I got where I got my my training in arms. Well...fists and knees and teeth and elbows, mostly." training in arms. Well...fists and knees and teeth and elbows, mostly."

"You, sir, are no gentleman no gentleman," said Rust.

"I knew knew there was something about me that I liked." there was something about me that I liked."

"Can you not even see that you can't enroll...dwarfs and trolls in an Ankh-Morpork regiment?"

"It just says 'armed soldiers,' and dwarfs come with their own axes. A great saving. Besides, if you've ever seen them really fight, then you must've been on the same side."

"Vimes-"

"It's Sir Samuel, my lord."

Rust seemed to think for a moment.

"Very well, then," he said. "Then you and your...regiment come under my command-"

"Strangely, no," said Vimes swiftly. "Under the command of the King or his duly appointed representative, it says in Scavone's Chivalric Law and Usage Chivalric Law and Usage. And, of course, there has been no duly appointed representative ever since some complete b.a.s.t.a.r.d cut off the last king's head. Oh, a.s.sorted bods appeared to have been ruling the city, but according to the chivalric tradition chivalric tradition-"

Rust stopped to think again. He had the look of a lawnmower just after the gra.s.s has organized a workers' collective. There was a definite suggestion that, deep inside, he knew this was not really happening. It could not be happening because this sort of thing did not happen. Any contradictory evidence could be safely ignored. However, it might be necessary to find some motions to go through.

"I think you'll find that, legally, your position-" he began, and his eyes bulged for a moment as Vimes interrupted him cheerfully.

"Oh, there might be a few problems, I grant you. But if you ask Mr. Slant he'll say 'This is a very interesting case,' which as you know is lawyer-talk for 'One thousand dollars a day plus expenses and it'll take months.' So I'll leave you to get on with it, shall I? Got such a lot of things to do, you know. I think the swatches for the new uniforms should be in my office about now, it's so important to look right on the battlefield, isn't it?"

Rust gave Vimes another look, and then strode away.

Detritus stamped to attention beside Vimes and his salute clanged smartly off his helmet.

"What we doin' now, sir?"

"We can pack up now, I think. All the lads have joined up?"

"Yessir!"

"You told them it wasn't compulsory?"

"Yessir! I said, 'It ain't compuls'ry, you just gotta,' sir."

"Detritus, I wanted volunteers volunteers."

"'sright, sir. They volunteered all right, I saw to that."

Vimes sighed as he walked back to his office. But they were probably safe. He was pretty sure he was legally sound and if he knew anything about Rust, the man would respect the letter of the law. Such men did, in a chilly way. Besides, thirty men in the Watch simply didn't figure in the great scheme of things. Rust could ignore them.

Suddenly there's a war brewing, Vimes thought, and they all come back. Civil order is turned upside down, because that's the rules rules. And people like Rust are at the top of the heap again. You have these aristocrats lazing around for years, and suddenly the old armor's out and the sword is being taken down from over the fireplace. They think there's going to be a war and all they can think about is that wars can be won or lost...

Someone's behind this. Someone wants to see a war. Someone paid to have Ossie and Snowy killed. Someone wanted the Prince dead. I've got to remember that. This isn't a war. This is a crime.

And then he realized he was wondering if the attack on Goriff's shop had been organized by the same people, and whether those same people had set fire to the emba.s.sy.

And then then he realized why he was thinking like this. he realized why he was thinking like this.

It was because he wanted there to be conspirators. It was much better to imagine men in some smoky room somewhere, made mad and cynical by privilege and power, plotting over the brandy. You had to cling to this sort of image, because if you didn't then you might have to face the fact that bad things happened because ordinary people, the kind who brushed the dog and told their children bedtime stories, were capable of then going out and doing horrible things to other ordinary people. It was so much easier to blame it on Them. It was bleakly depressing to think that They were Us. If it was Them, then nothing was anyone's fault. If it was Us, what did that make Me? After all, I'm one of Us. I must be. I've certainly never thought of myself as one of Them. No one No one ever thinks of themselves as one of Them. We're always one of Us. It's Them that do the bad things. ever thinks of themselves as one of Them. We're always one of Us. It's Them that do the bad things.

Around about this time, in his former life, Vimes would be taking the cap off a bottle, and wouldn't be too bothered about the bottle's contents so long as they crinkled paint- "Ook?"

"Oh, h.e.l.lo. What can I do for-oh, yes, I asked about books on Klatch...Is that all?"

The Librarian shyly held out a small, battered green book. Vimes had been expecting something bigger, but he took it anyway. It paid to look at any book the orangutan gave you. He matched you up to books. Vimes supposed it was a knack, in the same way that an undertaker was very good at judging heights.

On the spine, in very faded gold lettering, were the words "VENI VIDI VICI: A Soldier's Life by Gen. A. Tacticus." by Gen. A. Tacticus."

n.o.bby and Sergeant Colon edged along the alley.

"I know who he is!" Fred hissed. "That's Leonard of Quirm, that is! He went missing five years ago!"

"So he's called Leonard and he's from Quirm, so what?" said n.o.bby.

"He's a raving genius!"

"He's a loony."

"Yeah, well, they say there's a thin line between genius and madness..."

"He's fallen off it, then."

The voice behind them said, "Oh, dear, this won't do at all, will it...? I can't deny it, you were quite right, the accuracy would be quite unacceptable at any reasonable range. Could you bear to stop a moment, please?"

They turned. Leonard was already dismantling the tube.

"If you could just hang on to this bit, corporal...and, sergeant, if you would be so good as to hold this piece steady...some sort of fins should do it, I'm sure I had a suitable piece of wood somewhere..." Leonard began to pat his pockets.

The watchmen realized that the man holding them up had paused to redesign his weapon and had given it to them to hold while he looked for a screwdriver. This was a thing that did not often happen.

n.o.bby silently took the rocket from Colon and pushed it into the tube.

"What's this bit here, mister?" he said.

Leonard glanced up briefly in between patting his pockets.

"Oh, that is the trigger," he said. "Which, as you can see, rubs against the flint and-"

"Good."

There was a short burst of flame and rather more black smoke.

"Oh, dear," said Leonard.

The watchmen turned, like men dreading what they were about to see. The rocket had shot the length of the alley and through the window of a house.