By Terry Pratchett
One second, Sir Sam Vimes is in his previous patrolman shape, chasing a sweet-talking psychopath around the rooftops of Ankh-Morpork. the following, he's mendacity bare on the street, having been despatched again thirty years courtesy of a gaggle of time-manipulating priests who won't go away good adequate on my own. This Discworld is a darker position that Vimes recollects too good, 3 a long time earlier than his identify, fortune, liked spouse, and forthcoming first baby. Worse nonetheless, the assassin he's pursuing has been transported again additionally. Worst of all, it's the eve of a fabled road uprising that needlessly destroyed various reliable (and no longer so reliable) males. Sam Vimes understands his responsibility, and via altering historical past he may well simply avoid wasting priceless necks—though it may possibly price him his personal own destiny. Plus there's an opportunity to guide a beginner watchman immediately and educate him a helpful factor or 3 approximately policing, an impressionable younger copper named Sam Vimes.
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Extra info for Night Watch (Discworld, Book 29)
It -45- was very narrow and full of cobwebs and it smelled funny, kind of damp and moldy. I think it ran behind the wooden paneling of the landing, as it had really scratchy wooden walls. Although it was narrow, it was quite high and easy to walk along, even though I had to keep pushing really thick cobwebs out of the way. It’s a good thing I don’t mind spiders, as there were dozens of those. Really fat ones. I wasn’t scared. Not really. After all, I was still in my house, wasn’t I? But it was a bit odd when the passage suddenly ended at a wooden platform.
I shone my -46- flashlight all around, but it wasn’t much help. When I looked more closely, I could see that the platform had sides, a bit like a packing case, and there were ropes running up and down on either side. It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think what. And then I could! It was a dumbwaiter. No, I am not being rude about some poor old waiter—a dumbwaiter is a kind of elevator. I knew that because there used to be one just like it in the first-kitchen-on-the-rightjust-past-the-laundry-room, and that is what Aunt Tabby used to call it.
The trouble was, the rest of Sir Horace still lay all over the floor of my Thursday bedroom, so it took forever to bring all the pieces down the corridor and then throw them up through the door. I am a pretty good -36- shot, but I have to admit that not all the pieces got through the door the first time. I started to put Sir Horace back together and, while I was working out which arm went where, I thought about my Plans for the afternoon. I thought that maybe I would try the Molasses on the Doorknob with the Invisible Tripwire Plan, although it might need the Slimebucket Surprise, too, just to make sure.