To plot or not to plot?...

Summary: A plot against Havelock Vetinari put Ankh-Morpork into organized hysteria. The best assassin is summoned to 'clear the position' of Patrician.

This story came to me while I was reading Night Watch (again!) and there was a character I was quite intrigued from. I like writing about Vetinari, he is a character I like much because of his unpredictable spirit and his coldblooded energy. I like that...

Anyway, the events I write about happen between Jingo and Night Watch.

If you have any comments, please, review. Don't spare me. I am always open for any criticism, because I am my own severest critic.

1. Benelux

The darkness of the Obscure office didn't let Dr Downey to read the message in his hands. He lit a match to light the candlesticks on his desk. His lips shivered for a while, then he removed his reading glasses and sighed deeply. So, he thought, that's it. His agents reported at last. In only two years period the person had more than twenty successful works all around the disc, and more than half of them were with heightened difficulty. It was obvious who would be promoted soon, he thought. The best lecturer he could have in the Scorpion school for advanced students. Quite interesting. Indeed. Dr Downey looked at the picture stick on the first page of the file and smiled. That would be a hit, he smiled. The lecturers would remonstrate against the new recruit, but soon they would settle down. After all, none of them had such high score, no one of them would ever have such high score, indeed.

He looked at the file again. Birth name: Jovial Band. Dr Downey smiled: what a name, indeed. Born and raced in XXXX, father – killed in assassination. Had a twin sister – Alice. The similarity was spectacular. When being five years old taken by his uncle – retired assassin, removed to the deep province, surrounded by sheep and bushes. No one knew where and how received the pseudonym. And who would dare asking?

The Head Assassin put a hand over other file on his desk, smoothing over its surface, cudgelling his brain about everything it had inside. The yellow paper of its front begged for his touch, but he hesitated enough to open it. It has no need. The file had been hidden in his safe for many years, it had a lot of dust on its surface, the paper edges were damaged and already dark with age. He had to reopen the case again. The time had come and soon he had to demonstrate some of his special principals before the eyes of his comrades. After all he was a man of honour, he could confess it was a bill no one could pay, but after all he made a small contribution himself, and some of the others from the guilds and the nobilities did the same. If someone would ever know what he was thinking, he could be a dead man. Especially if one specific man could know what was he thinking about right now.

Soon, he thought. When Benelux comes to town, he would put a little test and if the person demonstrates the abilities it was so famous with, he would gladly put it under that contract.

He stared at the yellow file. It was quite far in time when the last assassin failed. It would be interesting to see what Benelux would do.

Dr Downey smiled bitterly and stood up slowly, bent down his head and blew the candles. When he closed the door of the Obscure office behind him, the window opened slightly, letting the spring wind run through the study. The papers at his desk moved lazy, the yellow file opened its cover and a small picture flew against the wind, settling back on its recent position. It was an old iconography of advanced in age man carrying a shaggy terrier in his lap. The wind blew a little more, then stopped tiredly and rushed out the window.

---

Lord Havelock Vetinari was still young when he took the vacant position of Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. Nevertheless of his early thirties, he was a man with good visions and straight ideas how to rule a city that large as this one. His secretary was a man in his young years, a brave lad clever enough to keep his mouth shut and his eyes wide open. He was not the cleverest assistant Lord Vetinari would like to have, but was something between what he liked and what he hated. That made him be always aware, and that is the position each ruler should be in, to keep his hypertension on. Otherwise he would be dead by now. Many times.

Twenty years after his nomination as Patrician, the middle aged Havelock Vetinari already had the experience required to keep his citizens aware all the time. Mostly the guild presidents, some of which he knew from his younger years and because he did know them better than any other in the city, he agreed their nominations. The knowledge of people could give you some very important – and safe – tips. He knew exactly what was going on in the city, and that was the most preferable virtue a modern ruler should have.

Havelock Vetinari travelled his eyes around the table centring the Oblong office and pronounced calmly.

'After everything you said, gentlemen, and I do think I was listening carefully, I should say, this is all nonsense and you know exactly what I mean.'

The noblemen shivered again. Their eyes searched for support in each other, but being in the presence of Havelock Vetinari that was a hard job.

'The improvement must be done, gentlemen, this is what the city needs.' calmly said the Patrician. 'We all know what is happening nowadays. The taxes hadn't been levied from years and the city needs improvements we can not afford other way. I do hope you will understand my state of mind and soon will come to the right statement. Otherwise I shall revise my agreement for the tax collection, and you all know what will happen next.'

He pressed his palms together and travelled his stare again.

'But, Sir' said the Head of the Potters Guild. 'We all do what we can…'

'I don't think the actions you mean had been done, Mr. Bertram.' answered Vetinari. 'If I am not wrong the improvement tax form your guild transmitted last year was for twenty thousand dollars, the tax lays on that amount was five percent, it means – one thousand dollars in improvements the city is still waiting to obtain. That means that the city had been injured with one thousand dollars from eleven months, meaning your guild especially, sir. Perhaps you understand my embarrassment when I received the improvement committee's report yesterday, letting me know what hadn't been done, Mr. Bertram.'

'Our engineers…'

'Your engineers, Mr. Bertram, transferred their last plans few months ago and I approved them. But the bridge in your guild's immediate proximity hadn't been touched yet. And as I was informed already, it lost one of its supports walls. Thanks gods it was not one of the main support walls, otherwise we would be talking about it while being alone, Mr. Bertram.'

Commander Vimes, staying in the far corner, giggled soundlessly and changed the position of his legs again. The Head of the Pottery Guild stared at the Patrician's eyes and shivered visibly. Being alone with Lord Havelock Vetinari was not the best thing happening to any man, nobility or not – it was not important. His blue icy eyes made anyone shiver from cold and hope death would come sooner and easier.

Mr. Bertram nodded slightly nervously and sighed deeply.

'As soon I get into the guild, I will do anything possible to start the improvements at once.'

'I do count on that, sir.' said the Patrician and smiled slightly. 'This includes every one here in the room.' He travelled his eyes around the anxious faces sitting on the table. 'I shall retrace all your actions in that direction and I will hope the reports I will receive these days will be satisfying enough.'

He put his palms on the board and leaned back in his chair, letting everyone know the audience was over. The men nodded respectfully and get up, rushing through the open door. Vimes followed them out, lifting an eyebrow, gazing questionably at the place Vetinari was still sitting in.

The clerk came to Vetinari's side and gave him a big pile of files. The Patrician looked down and opened the first one. He smiled. The name it had on its first page was quite familiar.

---

'What are you doing to do him?' asked the Head of the musicians, staring at Downey while going out of the Palace. The head Assassin smiled slightly and answered nervously.

'Soon, Mr. Brooks, you will have the opportunity to find it out very soon.'

'It doesn't satisfy us at all.' whispered the man at his back. Downey turned to stare at the eyes of Mr. Boggys, the head of the Thieves guild. His eyes daggered him hard enough to make him shiver and bend his head.

'As I already said, soon, gentlemen. I have transmitted the pleasure to a young man, quite familiar with this sort heavy work.'

'Who, the disc could that be?' asked Lord Venturii, appearing at his back. 'The last few assassins you put on that job, weren't even close. I still remember that poor man Vetinari caught in the stone labyrinth, so young and so… dead.'

'As I already said, the job is given to the best man ever born on Disc, I said it many times, don't make me repeat it again, please.'

'Who?' whispered Lord Selachii.' Who that man is? You said so many words for his support, but you still haven't tell us his name even. What does he have making him so special? You might have told us Benelux is on job, but I wouldn't believe, because…'

Dr. Downey stared at him with empty look. Lord Selachii shivered nervously, then he started reading his eyes and smiled.

'It's him, right?' he whispered again. 'The one?'

'What?' asked Lord De Burgh, following them in a distance.'

'Downey has hired Benelux, Tom' murmured the Head of the potters.

'Oh, really?' smiled Lord De Burgh. 'Himself?'

'Yes, Tom, himself. Now please make me the favour to hide that smile from your face and shut up!' hostile murmured the men around and dispersed to their own routs. Downey stood a little more, turned around and fixed his eyes at a specified window on the fifth floor of the Palace and smiled. A man, standing behind the curtains smiled back.

---

Benelux was not a name. It was a place hidden in the deep province of the southern part of XXXX. Had some houses, several storehouses and a lot of sheep. The only inhabitants were an old man and his younger apprentices. The early spring in this part of the disc was not quite different from the hottest summer, burning everything over the flat sterile land, producing only slim leaves of grass here and there, the river was just a thin brook, moistening the dead soil and still giving some kind of life here and there.

Alice pulled out the dagger form the logs and came to her brother, leaning under the heavy shadow of the thick avocado tree.

'Your turn, bro.'

Jovial opened his eye just in time to close it again.

'I'm tired, Alice.' he said and put his hands over his face. 'Go on, I'll watch.'

Alice sighed deeply. 'You know what uncle says, Jov. Come on!' she rounded her eyes, changing her voice. 'Kids, if you want to be the best – practice. No assassin will learn to be a good assassin without practicing.' She handed the dagger, Jovial took it and threw it without even opening his eyes. The dagger stabbed. Alice looked at the logs and sighed. The white chalk spot was not seen any more. The throw hols made it almost invisible. Alice sighed and smiled.

'Now is my turn.' She went to the well-arranged logs by the barn and already pulled out the dagger when she heard the yell from the house. She came closer to her brother.

'Come on, Jov, time for lunch.'

The old man was waiting by the house door, ringing on the lead plate hanged there.

'Come on, kids!' he cried, going inside the house.

Jovial lifted his head, looked at the direction the old man was standing some seconds ago and pronounced boringly:

'I'm not hungry.'

Alice smiled and rounded her eyes, already reaching for his leg, pulling him slowly through the yard.

'Come on, bro.' she said. 'Last lunch with the old man. Be a good guy.'

Jovial let her drag him to the house with hidden smile and when his feet already touched the front stairs of the porch, he sighed deeply and took his sister's hand to lift up.

'Alright, sis.' he said with boring voice. 'Lunch. Yeah… Old man will be so happy, that old bat Alfredus. Get rid of us both, at last.'

'Yeah, bro' smiled Alice. 'The cart will take us in hour time. I was dreaming for this trip for years. So envy you had the chance to see the world. And I – stuck into the middle of nowhere. Can you believe: a full scholarship. To me! Come on, be a good guy. Imagine: next stop: Ankh-Morpork.' Her eyes sparkled.

Jovial sighed hurriedly. 'And I have to kill again…' His voice was so desperate, making Alice turn around and give him a big slap on his face. 'What do you want then?' she asked, helping him get up from the ground. 'Stay here and care of the sheep for the rest of you life? I'm not staying here and if you ever think drag me with you in here for a day more, then I have to find someone to pay me for your head.'

Jovial stared at her and blushed. 'Yeah, Alice. Boring thing this is, you know. When I returned from Whatanicefiord, I thought it will be for long…'

'It was long.' commented the young woman. 'Seven weeks is long time, Jov.' She looked at him again and smiled. 'Come on, bro. Don't do this to me. I was waiting for this for many years. Uncle said I was ready for the school, and he said Ankh-Morpork is the best place to practice what I've learned. Come on!' She looked at him with her wide open blue eyes and blinked nervously. Then she took his arm and led him to the door. 'Let's give our last honour to the old man, all right?'

Jovial tried to put a smile. It was not hard to imagine what was the next boring work in the next boring city. Ankh-Morpork. He remembered the letters he and his sister received some days ago. Giving his sister scholarship to accomplish her education and him – a chance to practice and teach in the Scorpion school for advanced students. It was a boring job and he hated that. Teacher? Yeah, right. That was actually an excuse for what he was really invited in the city. And he knew exactly who the client was. The problem was that Jovial hated been treat as a mid idiot, pulled here, dragged there. Yes, he had some fame as a very good assassin, but actually he hated acting like a third rang assassin doing first rang job. He tried not to look too bored, made a face and followed his sister in.