'No one wants to hear anything you've got to say, Carcer.'
'Then you'd better kill me, Mister Vimes. I got no weapon. I can't run.'
'You've always got an extra knife, Carcer,' said Vimes, above the roar of the beast. 'Not this time, Mister Vimes. Come on, Mister Vimes. Can't blame a man for tryin', eh? A man's got to give it his best shot, right? No hard feelings?' And that was Carcer. No hard feelings. His best shot. Can't blame a man for trying. Innocent words got dirty in his mouth. Vimes took a step closer. 'You got a nice home to go to, Mister Vimes. I mean, what've I got?' And the man was convincing. He fooled everybody. You could almost forget the corpses. Vimes glanced down.
'Whoops, sorry,' said Carcer, 'I walked over your grave there. No offence meant, eh?' Vimes said nothing. The beast was howling. It wanted to shut that mouth up. 'You're not going to kill me, Mister Vimes. Not you. Not you with a badge. That ain't your way, Mister Vimes.' Without looking, Vimes reached up and tore his badge off. 'Ah, well, I know you want to give me a fright, Mister Vimes, and many would say you've got a right. Look, here's what I'll do, I'll throw away my other knife, haha, you knew I'd got another one, right?' It was the voice. It could make you think that what you knew was wrong. 'Okay, okay, I can see you're upset, haha, fair enough, and you know I've always got a third knife, well, I'm dropping it now, see, there it goes.' Vimes was only a step or two away now. 'That's it, Mister Vimes. No more knives. I can't run. I surrender. No messing about this time. I give in, okay? Just arrest me? For old times' sake?' The beast screamed inside Vimes. It screamed that no one would blame him for doing the hangman out of ten dollars and a free breakfast. Yeah, and you could say a swift stab now was the merciful solution, because every hangman knew you could go the easy way or the hard way and there wasn't one in the country that'd let something like Carcer go the easy way. The gods knew the man deserved it... . . . but young Sam was watching him, across thirty years. When we break down, it all breaks down. That's just how it works. You can bend it, and if you make it hot enough you can bend it in a circle, but you can't break it. When you break it, it all breaks down until there's nothing unbroken. It starts here and now. He lowered the sword. Carcer looked up, grinning, and said, 'Never tastes right, does it, haha, an egg without salt. . .' Vimes felt his hand begin to move of its own accord- And stopped. Red rage froze. There was the beast, all around him. And that's what it was. A beast. Useful, but still a beast. You could hold it on a chain, and make it dance, and juggle balls. It didn't think. It was dumb. What you were, what you were, was not the beast. You didn't have to do what it wanted. If you did, Carcer won. He dropped the sword.
Carcer stared at him, the gleam of Vimes's sudden smile more worrying than the rictus of his rage. Then metal gleamed in his hand. But Vimes was already on him, grabbing the hand, slamming it again and again on John Keel's headstone until the fourth knife dropped from bleeding fingers. He dragged the man upright with both hands forced up behind his back and rammed him hard against the stone. 'See that up in the sky, Carcer?' he said, his mouth by the man's ear. That's the sunset, that is. That's the stars. And they'll shine all the better on my lad Sam tomorrow night 'cos they won't be shining down on you. Carcer, by reason of the fact that before the dew's off the leaves in the morning I'll drag you in front of Vetinari, and we'll have the witnesses there, lots of 'em, and maybe even a lawyer for you if there's any of 'em who could plead for you with a straight face and then, Carcer, we'll take you to the Tanty, one gallows, no waiting, and you can dance the hemp fandango. And then I'll bleedin' well go home and maybe I'll even have a hard-boiled egg.'
'You're hurting!'
'You know, you're right there, Carcer!' Vimes managed to get both the man's wrists in a steel grip, and ripped the sleeve off his own shirt. 'I'm hurting and I'm still doing it all by the book.' He wrapped the linen around the wrists a couple of times and knotted it firmly. 'I'll make sure there's water in your cell, Carcer. I'll make sure you get breakfast, anything you like. I'll make sure the hangman doesn't get sloppy and let you choke to death. I'll even make sure the trapdoor is greased.' He released the pressure. Carcer stumbled, and Vimes kicked his legs from under him. 'The machine ain't broken, Carcer. The machine is waiting for you,' he said, tearing a sleeve off the man's own shirt and fashioning it into a crude binding for his ankles. The city will kill you dead. The proper wheels'll turn. It'll be fair, I'll make sure of that. Afterwards you won't be able to say you didn't have a fair trial. Won't be able to say a thing, haha. I'll see to that, too . . .' He stood back. 'Good evening, your grace,' said Lord Vetinari. Vimes spun around. There was a change of texture in the darkness, which could have been man- shaped. Vimes snatched up his sword and peered into the night. The shape came forward, became recognizable. 'How long were you there?' he demanded. 'Oh . . . some little while,' said the Patrician. 'Like you, I prefer to come alone and . . . contemplate.'
'You were very quiet!' said Vimes accusingly. 'Is that a crime, your grace?'
'And you heard-?'
'A very neat arrest,' said Vetinari. 'Congratulations, your grace.'
Vimes looked at the unbloodied sword. 'I suppose so,' he said, temporarily derailed. 'On the birth of your son, I meant.'
'Oh . . . yes. Oh. Of course. Yes. Well . . . thank you.'
'A healthy lad, I am given to understand.'
'We'd have been just as happy with a daughter,' said Vimes, quickly. 'Quite so. These are modern times, after all. Oh, I see you have dropped your badge.' Vimes glanced at the long grass. 'I'll come and find it in the morning,' he said. 'But this,' he picked up the moaning Carcer and slung him over his shoulder with a grunt, 'is going back to Pseudopolis Yard right now.' They walked slowly down the gravel path, leaving the scent of lilac behind. Ahead was the everyday stink of the world. 'You know,' said Lord Vetinari, after a few moments, 'it has often crossed my mind that those men deserve a proper memorial of some sort.'
'Oh yes?' said Vimes, in a non-committal voice. His heart was still pounding. 'In one of the main squares, perhaps?'
'Yes, that would be a good idea.'
'Perhaps a tableau in bronze?' said Vimes sarcastically. 'All seven of them raising the flag, perhaps?'
'Bronze, yes,' said Vetinari. 'Really? And some son of inspiring slogan?' said Vimes. 'Yes, indeed. Something like, perhaps, “They Did The Job They Had To Do”?'
'No,' said Vimes, coming to a halt under a lamp by the crypt entrance. 'How dare you? How dare you! At this time! In this place! They did the job they didn't have to do, and they died doing it, and you can't give them anything. Do you understand? They fought for those who'd been abandoned, they fought for one another, and they were betrayed. Men like them always are. What good would a statue be? It'd just inspire new fools to believe they're going to be heroes. They wouldn't want that. Just let them be. For ever.' They walked in heavy silence, and then Vetinari said, as if there had been no outburst: 'Happily, it appears that the new deacon at the temple here has suddenly heard the call.'
'What call?' said Vimes, his heart still racing.
'I'm never very good at religious matters, but apparently he was filled with a burning desire to spread the good word to the benighted heathen,' said Vetinari. 'Where?'
'I suggested Ting Ling.'
'That's right on the other side of the world!'
'Well, a good word can't be spread too far, sergeant.'
'Well, at least it puts-' Vimes stopped at the entrance gates. Overhead, another lamp flickered. He dropped Carcer to the ground. 'You knew? You bloody well knew, didn't you?'
'Not until, oh, one second ago,' said Vetinari. 'As one man to another, commander, I must ask you: did you ever wonder why I wore the lilac?'
'Yeah. I wondered,' said Vimes. 'But you never asked.'
'No. I never asked,' said Vimes shortly. 'It's a flower. Anyone can wear a flower.'
'At this time? In this place?'
'Tell me, then.'