Vimes drummed his fingers on the desk.

“Not Colon, then,” he said. “He's not as young as he was. Time he stayed in the Watch House, keeping up on the paperwork. Besides, he's got a lot on his plate.”

“Sergeant Colon has always had a lot on his plate, I should say,” said the Patrician.

“With the new recruits, I mean,” said Vimes, meaningfully. “You remember, sir?”

The ones you told me I had to have? he added in the privacy of his head. They weren't to go in the Day Watch, of course. And those bastards in the Palace Guard wouldn't take them, either. Oh, no. Put 'em in the Night Watch, because it's a joke anyway and no-one'll really see 'em. No-one important, anyway.

Vimes had only given in because he knew it wouldn't be his problem for long.

It wasn't as if he was speciesist, he told himself. But the Watch was a job for men.

“How about Corporal Nobbs?” said the Patrician.

“Nobby?”

They shared a mental picture of Corporal Nobbs.

“No.”

“No.”

“Then of course there is,” the Patrician smiled, “Corporal Carrot. A fine young man. Already making a name for himself, I gather.”

“That's… true,” said Vimes.

“A further promotion opportunity, perhaps? I would value your advice.”

Vimes formed a mental picture of Corporal Carrot—

“This,” said Corporal Carrot, “is the Hubwards Gate. To the whole city. Which is what we guard.”

“What from?” said Lance-Constable Angua, the last of the new recruits.