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Vimes
had
been
one
of
the
middle
rankers
,
the
falsetto
equivalent
of
a
yes
-
man
.
He
remembered
Wonse
as
a
skinny
little
kid
,
always
tagging
along
behind
in
hand
-
me
-
down
pants
with
the
kind
of
odd
skipping
run
he
’
d
invented
to
keep
up
with
the
bigger
boys
,
and
forever
coming
up
with
fresh
ideas
to
stop
them
idly
ganging
up
on
him
,
which
was
the
usual
recreation
if
nothing
more
interesting
presented
itself
.
It
was
superb
training
for
the
rigours
of
adulthood
,
and
Wonse
became
good
at
it
.
Yes
,
they
’
d
both
started
in
the
gutter
.
But
Wonse
had
worked
his
way
up
whereas
,
as
he
himself
would
be
the
first
to
admit
,
Vimes
had
merely
worked
his
way
along
.
Every
time
he
seemed
to
be
getting
anywhere
he
spoke
his
mind
,
or
said
the
wrong
thing
.
Usually
both
at
once
.
That
was
what
made
him
uncomfortable
around
Wonse
.
It
was
the
ticking
of
the
bright
clockwork
of
ambition
.
Vimes
had
never
mastered
ambition
.
It
was
something
that
happened
to
other
people
.
"
Ah
,
Vimes
.
"
"
Sir
,
"
said
Vimes
woodenly
.
He
didn
’
t
try
to
salute
in
case
he
fell
over
.
He
wished
he
’
d
had
time
to
drink
dinner
.
Wonse
rummaged
in
the
papers
of
his
desk
.
"
Strange
things
afoot
,
Vimes
.
Serious
complaint
about
you
,
I
’
m
afraid
,
"
he
said
.
Wonse
didn
’
t
wear
glasses
.
If
he
had
worn
glasses
,
he
’
d
have
peered
at
Vimes
over
the
top
of
them
.
"
Sir
?
"
"
One
of
your
Night
Watch
men
.
Seems
he
arrested
the
head
of
the
Thieves
’
Guild
.
"
