This time it was Sweeper who sat in silence, apart from the rumble of the cylinders.
‘You’re a policeman, Mister Vimes,’ he said eventually. ‘Well, I’d like you to believe, for a while, that I’in a sort of policeman too, all right? Me and my colleagues, we see that… things happen. Or don’t happen. Don’t ask questions right now. Just
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nod.’
Vimes shrugged instead.
‘Good. And let’s say on our patrol we’ve found you, as it might be, in a metaphorical kind of way, lying in the gutter on a Saturday night singing a rude song about wheelbarrows-‘
‘I don’t know a rude song about wheelbarrows!’
Sweeper sighed. ‘Hedgehogs? Custard? Onestring fiddles? It really doesn’t matter. Now, we’ve found you a long way from where you should be and we’d like to get you home, but it’s not as easy as you might think.’
‘I’ve gone back in time, haven’t I? It was that bloody Library!
Everyone knows the magic in there makes strange things
happen!’
‘Well, yes. It was mainly that, yes. It’s more true to say that you, er, got caught up in a major event.’
‘Can anyone get me back? Can you get me back?’
‘Weell…’ said Sweeper, looking awkward.
‘Wizards can if you can’t,’ said Vimes. ‘I’ll go back and see them in the morning!’
‘Oh, you will, will you? I’d like to be there when you do.
These ain’t the wizards under decent old Ridcully, you know.
You’ll be lucky if they only laugh at you. Anyway, even if they wanted to be helpful they’d hit the same problem.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘It can’t be done. Not yet.’ For the first time in the conversation Sweeper looked ill at ease. ‘The big problem I’in facing, Mister Vimes, is that I ought to tell you a few things that I’in not, in any circumstances, allowed to tell you. But you’re a man who isn’t happy until he knows the facts. I respect that. So… if I tell you everything, can you spare me, oh, twenty minutes of your time?
It could save your life.’
‘All right,’ said Vimes. ‘But what-‘
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‘You’ve got a bargain,’ said Sweeper. ‘Roll ’em, boys.’
The noise of the big cylinders changed for a moment and Vimes felt a very slight shock, a suggestion that his whole body had just gone plib.
‘Twenty minutes,’ said Sweeper. ‘I’ll answer every question.
And then, Mister Vimes, we’ll send you back from twenty minutes in the future to now and you’ll tell yourself what you and me agree you ought to know. Which will be most of it, really. You’re a man who can keep secrets. Okay?’
‘Yes, but-‘ Vimes began.
The tone of the spinning cylinders changed slightly.
Sam Vimes saw himself standing in the middle of the room.
‘That’s me!’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Sweeper. ‘Now listen to the man.’
‘Hello, Sam,’ said the other Vimes, staring not quite at him. ‘I can’t see you, but they say you can see me. Remember the smell of lilac? You thought about those who died. And then you told Willikins to hose down that kid. And, eh… you’ve got a pain in your chest you’re a bit worried about but you haven’t told anyone… That’s about enough, I think. You know I’in you. Now, there’s some things I can’t tell you. I can know ’em because I’in in a-‘ The speaker stopped and looked away, as if he was taking instruction from someone offstage ‘a closed loop. Er, you could say I’in twenty minutes of your life you don’t recall. Remember when you had
… a sensation that his whole body had just gone plib.
Sweeper stood up. ‘I hate to do this,’ he said, ‘but we’re in the temple and we can pretty much dampen out the paradoxes. On your feet, Mister Vimes. I’in going to tell you everything.’
‘You just said you couldn’t!’
Sweeper smiled. ‘Need any help with those handcuffs?’
‘What, these old Capstick Mark Ones? No, just give me a nail
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and a couple of minutes. How come I’in in a temple?’
‘I brought you here.’
‘You carried me?’
‘No. You walked with me. Blindfolded, of course. And then when you were here, I gave you a little drink…’
1 don’t remember that!’
‘Of course not. That was the purpose of the drink. Not very mystical, but it does the job. We don’t want you coming back here, now, do we? This place is supposed to be a secret-‘
‘You messed up my memory? Now you see here-‘ Vimes half stood, but Sweeper held up his hands placatingly.
‘Don’t worry, don’t worry, it just… made you forget a few minutes,’ he said.
‘How many minutes?’
‘Just a few, just a few. And it had herbs in it. Good for you, herbs. And then we let you sleep. Don’t worry, no one is after us.
They’ll never know you’ve gone. See this thing here?’
Sweeper picked up an openwork box that lay beside his chair.
It had straps like a knapsack, and Vimes could just see a cylinder inside the box.
‘This is called a Procrastinator,’ said the monk, ‘and it’s a tiny version of the ones over there, the ones that look like your granny’s mangle. I’in not going to get technical, but when it’s spinning it moves time around you. Did you understand what I just said?’
‘No!’
‘All right, it’s a magic box. Happier?’
‘Go on,’ said Vimes grimly.
‘You wore one of these when I led you here from the Watch House. Because you were wearing it, you were, shall we say, outside time. And after we’ve had this little talk I’ll take you
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back to the Watch House and the old captain won’t know any different. No.time is passing in the outside world while we’re in the temple. The Procrastinators take care of that. Like I said, they move time around. Actually, what’s really happening is that they are moving us back in time at the same time that time moves us forward. We’ve got others around the place. Good for keeping food fresh. What else can I tell you… oh, yeah. It helps keep track if you just think of things happening one after another. Believe me.’
‘This is like a dream;’ said Vimes. There was a clink as the handcuffs sprang open.
‘Yes, it is, isn’t it,’ said Sweeper calmly.
‘And can your magic box take me home? Move me in time all the way to where I ought to be?’
‘This? Hah. No, this is strictly for smallscale stuff-‘
‘Look, Mr Sweeper, I’ve spent the last day fighting a right bastard on a roof and getting beaten up twice and sewn up once and, hah, stitched up, too. I’ve got the impression I should be thanking you for something but I’in damned if I know what it is.
What I want is straight answers, mister. I’in the Commander of the Watch in this city!’
‘Don’t you mean will be,’ said Sweeper.
‘No! You told me it helps if I think of things happening one after another! Well, yesterday, my yesterday, I was Commander of the Watch and I bloody well still am the Commander of the Watch. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. They are not in possession of all the facts!’
‘Hold on to that thought,’ said Sweeper, standing up. ‘All right, commander. You want some facts. Let’s take a walk in the garden, shall we?’
‘Can you get me home?’
‘Not yet. It’s my professional opinion that you’re here for a
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reason.’
‘A reason? I fell through the bloody dome!’
‘That helped, yes. Calm down, Mister Vimes. It’s all been a great strain, I can see.’
Sweeper led the way out of the hall. There was a big office outside, a hubbub of quiet but purposeful activity. Here and there, among the worn and scratched desks, there were more cylinders like the ones Vimes had seen in the other chamber.
Some of them were turning slowly.
‘Very busy, our Ankh-Morpork section,’ said Sweeper. ‘We had to buy the shops on either side.’ He picked up a scroll from a basket by one desk, glanced at the contents, and tossed it back with a sigh. ‘And everyone’s overworked,’ he added. ‘We’re here at all hours. And when we say “all hours”, we know what we’re talking about.’
‘But what is it you do?’ said Vimes.
‘We see that things happen.’
‘Don’t things happen anyway?’
‘Depends what things you want. We’re the Monks of History, Mister Vimes. We see that it happens.’
‘I’ve never heard of you, and I know this city like the back of my hand,’ said Vimes.
‘Right. And how often do you really look at the back of your hand, Mister Vimes? We’re in Clay Lane, to stop you
wondering.’
‘What? Those loony monks in the funny foreign building
between the pawnbrokers and the shonky shop? The ones who go dancing round the street banging drums and shouting?’