Стража! Стража!

           Beingagangleaderisnotajobwithlong-termprospects.Butineverygangthereisapaleyouthwho’sallowedtostaybecausehe’stheonewhocomesupwithallthecleverideas,usuallytodowitholdwomenandunlockedshops;thiswasWonse’snaturalplaceintheorderofthings.

           Vimeshadbeenoneofthemiddlerankers,thefalsettoequivalentofayes-man.HerememberedWonseasaskinnylittlekid,alwaystaggingalongbehindinhand-me-downpantswiththekindofoddskippingrunhe’dinventedtokeepupwiththebiggerboys,andforevercomingupwithfreshideastostopthemidlyganginguponhim,whichwastheusualrecreationifnothingmoreinterestingpresenteditself.Itwassuperbtrainingfortherigoursofadulthood,andWonsebecamegoodatit.

           Yes,they’dbothstartedinthegutter.ButWonsehadworkedhiswayupwhereas,ashehimselfwouldbethefirsttoadmit,Vimeshadmerelyworkedhiswayalong.Everytimeheseemedtobegettinganywherehespokehismind,orsaidthewrongthing.Usuallybothatonce.

           ThatwaswhatmadehimuncomfortablearoundWonse.Itwasthetickingofthebrightclockworkofambition.

           Vimeshadnevermasteredambition.Itwassomethingthathappenedtootherpeople.

           "Ah,Vimes."

           "Sir,"saidVimeswoodenly.Hedidn’ttrytosaluteincasehefellover.Hewishedhe’dhadtimetodrinkdinner.

           Wonserummagedinthepapersofhisdesk.