A new stage adaptation of one of Pratchett's best-selling novels Set in Ankh-Morpork one of the most thoroughly imagined cities in fantasy, Night Watch is the story of Sam Vimes, running hero of the Guards sequence, who finds himself cast back in time to the Ankh-Morpork of his youth. With a psychopath from his own time rising in the vile ranks of the Cable Street Unmentionables complicating things, Vimes has to ensure that history takes its course so that he will have the right future to go back to, and to keep his younger self alive."One of the funniest English authors alive" (Independent) “One of the funniest English authors alive.” ― Independent Sir Terry Pratchett was the acclaimed creator of the global bestselling Discworld series, the first of which, The Colour of Magic , was published in 1983. In all, he was the author of 50 bestselling books. His novels have been widely adapted for stage and screen, and he was the winner of multiple prizes, including the Carnegie Medal, as well as being awarded a knighthood for services to literature. Worldwide sales of his books now stand at 70 million, and they have been translated into 37 languages. Sir Terry Pratchett died on 12th March 2015. Stephen Briggs is a British writer of subsidiary works and merchandise surrounding Terry Pratchett's comic fantasy Discworld . He has co-designed many of the Discworld maps and has adapted over 20 Pratchett novels for the amateur stage. In 2004, he received an Audie Award for his audiobook recording of Monstrous Regiment . Night Watch By Terry Pratchett Methuen Publishing Copyright © 2005 Terry Pratchett All right reserved. ISBN: 9780413774446 Excerpt Chapter One Sam Vimes sighed when he heard the scream, but he finished shaving before he did anything about it. Then he put his jacket on and strolled out into the wonderful late spring morning. Birds sang in the trees, bees buzzed in the blossom. The sky was hazy though, and thunderheads on the horizon threatened rain later. But for now, the air was hot and heavy. And in the old cesspit behind the gardener's shed, a young man was treading water. Well ... treading, anyway. Vimes stood back a little way and lit a cigar. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to employ a naked flame any nearer to the pit. The fall from the shed roof had broken the crust. "Good morning!" he said cheerfully. "Good morning, Your Grace," said the industrious treadler. The voice was higher pitched that Vimes expected and he realized that, most unusually, the young man in the pit was in fact a young woman. It wasn't entirely unexpected - the Assassins' Guild was aware that women were at least equal to their brothers when it came to inventive killing - but it nevertheless changed the situation somewhat. "I don't believe we've met?" said Vimes. "Although I see you know who I am. You are ... ?" "Wiggs, sir," said the swimmer. "Jocasta Wiggs. Honored to meet you, Your Grace." "Wiggs, eh?" said Vimes. "Famous family in the Guild. 'Sir' will do, by the way. I think I once broke your father's leg?" "Yes, sir. He asked to be remembered to you," said Jocasta. "You're a bit young to be sent on this contract, aren't you?" said Vimes. "Not a contract, sir," said Jocasta, still paddling. "Come now, Miss Wiggs. The price on my head is at least - " "The Guild council put it in abeyance, sir," said the patient swimmer. "You're off the register. They're not accepting contracts on you at present." "Good grief, why not?" "Couldn't say, sir," said Miss Wiggs. Her patient struggles had brought her to the edge of the pit, and now she was finding that the brickwork was in very good repair, quite slippery, and offered no handholds. Vimes knew this, because he'd spent several hours one afternoon carefully arranging that this should be so. "So why were you sent, then?" "Miss Band sent me as an exercise," said Jocasta. "I say, these bricks really are jolly tricky, aren't they?" "Yes," said Vimes, "they are. Have you been rude to Miss Band lately? Upset her in any way?" "Oh, no, Your Grace. But she did say I was getting overconfident and would benefit from some advanced field work." "Ah. I see." Vimes tried to recall Miss Alice Band, one of the Assassins' Guild's stricter teachers. She was, he'd heard, very hot on practical lessons. "So ... she sent you to kill me, then?" he said. "No, sir! It's an exercise! I don't even have any crossbow bolts! I just had to find a spot where I could get you in my sights and then report back!" "She'd believe you?" "Of course, sir," said Jocasta, looking rather hurt. "Guild honor, sir." Vimes took a deep breath. "You see, Miss Wiggs, quite a few of your chums have tried to kill me at home in recent years. As you might expect, I take a dim view of this." "Easy to see why, sir," said Jocasta, in the voice of one who knows that their only hope of escaping from their present predicament is reliant on the goodwill of another person, who has no pressing reason to have