Assassins had a code of ethics and decorum that was hammered into them from the second they began classes at the Guild. It was not an honorable one, by their very nature, but none the less they held to it quite religiously. If one had enough run-ins with them, and if one were smart, this made them rather easy to circumvent. It also made breaches of protocol glaringly obvious.
Wilikins' announcement that an Assassin had come to the front door was more than a bit unsettling.
Vimes found that his guest in the foyer was a young woman, dressed like an incredibly expensive school marm. This was not a particularly efficient outfit, seemingly emphasized by her decision to dully analyze a painting rather than look about for where traps might (or could eventually) be set. If anything, it all him even more on edge.
It at least felt a bit better when her eyes snapped to him as soon as he was in range, and darted over his person for any sign of a weapon. Proper Assassin behavior.
"Good afternoon, Mister Vimes," she said. "My name is-"
"Alice Band," Vimes finished. "A Guild tutor, right?"
She nodded again. "Correct."
"I didn't think they let you lot take contracts." He lit up a cigar. "Too much hassle to keep filling positions, I assume."
"There's no rule against it, we're just strongly encouraged to have a successor picked out," she said, in a tone that suggested she was annoyed that she didn't have one yet. "I'm not on contract, though. I'm here to collect a student."
"Didn't think students got contracts, either."
"There is a rule against that. For undergraduates, anyway, which this one is. A fairly young, and unarmed, undergraduate," Miss Band added, with emphasis. "She was just here for a lesson and, as it's been quite a while since then, I've come to collect her. Preferably alive, of course."
"So you're asking to see my defenses, then?" he asked, brow raised. "They're quite extensive, thanks to so many visits from your friends over the years."
She waved it off. "Just the potential places of outcomes. I don't care about seeing or facing off with your traps." This time, anyway, but she didn't add that. "This had been meant as a lesson. But, as she's a young girl and a quick learner, it needn't be a deadly one."
Once again she didn't add the 'this time', though it was clearly implied.
"And if I say no?"
"I'm hoping you won't."
He took a long drag from the cigar as he sorted it out. The look in her eye said that the place could be swarming with Assassins within a few minutes, an outcome neither preferred. And while he certainly didn't want to encourage this sort of behavior, or 'lesson' as she had called it, and it was just as possible that this was an set up for something else. But, by saying no, that possibility became a guarantee.
He finally exhaled, and asked, "What sort is she?"
"Has a penchant for crossbows."
"So a penchant for roofs, then?"
"And hedge cover."
"Fine enough. Come along."
"Thank you."
Vimes headed out, followed by Miss Band who kept just enough distance to see both his hands clearly. This was also quite typical Assassin behavior, and made Vimes much more comfortable.
"What sort of lesson was this, anyway?"
"In humility, mostly," Miss Band explained. "The prestigious Guild lines have little of it left. Tends to get worse the more talented they are, and she's certainly following along with that." Her jaw tightened a bit. "Her lesson was strictly to get you within her crossbow sight, then report back."
"That's it?"
"She wasn't even allowed arrows."
"And you'd have just believed her, if she said she'd done it?"
"Lying about completing a contract is a serious offense, and the old Guild lines hammer that in even more than we do," she said, gravely. "I expected her to fail, but I also hoped it would be a humiliating but survivable encounter. You have a fondness for embarrassing Assassins, after all."
"Thought it was a win all around," he said. "I make a point, and you get your member back."
"Off the record?"
He waved his cigar in agreement.
"The Guild is rarely, if ever, upset when its members die in the line of duty. Comes with the profession, and inhuming someone who has killed multiple Assassins is quite a source of pride. Public humiliation tied to the Guild, on the other hand... It was a major factor in your delisting."
"Delisting!" he repeated, in surprise and annoyance.
"Your new rank and what you've done with the Watch were a considerable part, as well, if it helps. Just not quite as much as how deeply you'd shoved that flagpole." She leaned forward to be within eye-line. "Only a handful of people have ever been delisted, you know. And you're only the second one this century. You should take it as a sign of respect, really."
"Respect? I want to know how to get rid of it! Not that I enjoy getting shot at, but I like knowing that the sort of people who should be annoyed at me are." He added, as he went back for another drag, "Humiliating the Guild is a fringe benefit."
"You could petition Lord Downey, then, I suppose. Though he was the one who issued the delisting to begin with." Her eyes locked onto the cesspit they were approaching with trepidation, and then slid up to the roof above it. "This one of your traps, then?"
"The final part of one, yes."
She kept as far back as she was able, and leaned to see into the pit.
The sounds of splashing were soon joined by an apologetic, "Afternoon, Miss Band..."
She winced a bit at the thought of what her student was treading in, and the inevitability of it getting onto herself as well. "Afternoon, Miss Wiggs. Been down there all morning?"
"Most of it, ma'am. The brickwork is rather tricky..."
"I would expect so. Will you be able to climb?"
"I should be, ma'am."
She looked back for permission, and received a wave. Ms Band pulled a rope and grappling hook from somewhere in the seemingly plain dress, and fed the rope down the cesspit.
"The brickwork is lovely, by the way."
"Thank you. I've done quite a bit of adjustment around here."
"I'm sure the Thieves Guild will have a wonderful time." She didn't add 'good riddance', but it was implied.
"Quite possibly."
Eventually, exhaustedly, a muck-covered hand clamped onto the edge of the cesspit's wall. Then another, and then a young figure pulled its top half to hang and pant over the side.
Vimes noted that the quiver was indeed empty. Of course, the fall could have done that. But the ground wasn't littered with arrows either.
"Thank you, Ma'am," she said through heavy breaths. "My lord."
"Did you manage?" he asked.
The young girl scraped muck off her face, flicked it off her hand back into the pit, and smiled a bit too proudly for her current situation. "For a moment!" She hauled herself the rest of the way, and bowed her slime-covered head. "Jocasta Wiggs, my ord. My father wishes to be remembered by you," she said, as her breathing regulated.
"Wiggs, Wiggs..." He thought for a moment. There were an awful lot of Assassins who expected to be memorable. "I broke his leg once, didn't I?"
She nodded, "Yes, sir."
"Worked out for everyone, then," he said, and took another puff of his cigar. "I assume you ladies can show yourselves out. Ms Band." He didn't say that they were to leave, quickly, and not be back, though it was clearly implied.
"Mr Vimes," she said, and nodded her thanks and understanding.
Vimes headed back inside, to both prepare for his shift and perhaps draft a long letter for Lord Downey. By the time he looked out the window towards the cesspit, the Assassins were gone leaving only a thick puddle and gradually thinning trail behind.