A one-shot for now, may be extended if the muse takes me. Takes place at the end of Jingo. Page 280 in the hardback edition. I don't own them, yadda yadda, would never claim to, etc. and Mr Pratchett is welcome to keep them and all the royalties associated with them. I found this lurking on my old PC, from way back when Jingo was first released.
Vetinari flashed a fleeting smile.
"Veni, vici … Vetinari." Vimes rolled his eyes and took one step backwards. He saluted the Patrician half-heartedly, aware that had he not already rolled his eyes at his superior once, he would be doing so again in response to Carrot's over-enthusiastic salute. Vetinari dismissed them with a wave of his hand and turned back to the paperwork on his desk. He listened carefully to the withdrawing footsteps of the new duke and his loyal captain. Alone in his office now, listening to the silence, Vetinari pushed back in his chair and stretched.
It felt good to be free of that infernal boat. To be away from Nobbs and Colon. Even to be away from Leonard was a relief. Because Vetinari was a highly educated, highly intelligent man, he could recognise a more intelligent intellect when he met one. Leonard of Quirm had such an intellect. This did not irritate Vetinari as much as one might expect. While Leonard was a genius, Vetinari was far more aware of the world outside his own head than Leonard. Vetinari could read the world and other people's motives as easily as Leonard could invent a new way of peeling oranges. But sometimes he found the genius' company tiresome, the effort of holding a conversation with someone on a different mental plane wearing after a few days.
In the silence Vetinari allowed himself a few moments reflection. He had hoped that his research on the island of Leshp would pay off, but he had certainly been very lucky over the last week. At any point, he could have lost his position, Ankh-Morpork or perhaps his life. Somewhere in his mind, the inner voice he had nick-named Vimes muttered "Lucky bastard." He was. He knew it. For now, that was exactly what he needed to be. Vetinari sighed and felt the muscles in his back relax, realising for the first time just how tense his muscles must have been over the last week.
Outside, a shout from Drumknott brought Vetinari back to reality for once. One by one, his back muscles knotted back into position. The shouting drew closer to the door and Vetinari pulled a small dagger from the drawer to his right. Concealing it carefully in his sleeve, he sat forward in his customary predatory fashion, hands gently folded in a prayer position above the desk. Waiting patiently, Vetinari tried to catch the conversation outside. Drumknott was shouting at the unknown visitor.
"I have been instructed not to disturb his lordship for the remainder of the day!" There was a muttered reply. "I don't care! It's more than my job's worth to let you through that d…. arrrgh, ow, bugger…" Drumknott's objections faded into muffled curses. Mildly alarmed, Vetinari sat a little straighter, poised to intercept any trouble while hiding any concern behind his usual calm mask.
The door opened with a flourish and Rosemary Palm walked into the Oblong Office. Vetinari relaxed a little and gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk. He was always pleased to receive the head of the Guild of Seamstresses – besides anything else, she was a lot easier on the eyes than the other Guild leaders. She must have some urgent business - she was usually much kinder to Drumknott. Mrs Palm closed the office door behind her and moved haughtily to the chair, tossing her hair back carelessly. Vetinari assumed she was here on guild business and lowered his hands to his lap before continuing, slipping the dagger back into the drawer without Mrs Palm noticing.
"May I help you madam?" He noticed her face was flushed, her eyes red.
"I have come to ask for some assurances from you that the status of the Guild of Seamstresses will not be destroyed should anything happen to you." She swallowed and Vetinari realised she was not upset, but exceedingly angry.
"The only such assurance I could give would be that I have and will continue to encourage the support of your guild throughout the Guild Council. I know that the Lords Downey and Selacchi have often, shall we say sustained, the development of the Guild?"
"But the Lord Rust declared his intention to close the Seamstresses down while you were incarcerated. And Downey and Selacchi did not move to oppose him."
"Really?" Vetinari raised an eyebrow. He had not heard this piece of information as yet. Then again, he had only sat down at his desk for an hour. There was a limit to the amount of information from his spies that he could catch up on in that time. He ruffled through the papers on his desk nonchalantly as Mrs Palm continued, apparently ordering the papers by size and colour but actually scanning for confirmation of Mrs Palm's story.
"Yes. My Guild has always brought money to this city and next to the Assassin's and Thieves' Guilds, we uphold most of Ankh-Morpork's economy. I must have some assurance from you that you will not gamble the future of my Guild again!" Vetinari found the report he was looking for – it did indeed confirm Mrs Palm's story.
"Come again?" he questioned, continuing to shuffle paper.
"You had no guarantee of the outcome of this war and yet you still proceeded to abandon the city without so much as a thought for us!"
"I do apologise. How remiss of me to neglect the Guilds while the city was at war." His silken tone laid a calm veneer over Mrs Palm's anger, soothing her temper for now.
"I only wished to point out that it may be – prudent – to lay down a will or some other constitution whereby in the event of any further, civil disturbance, or your absence, permanent or otherwise, the Lords of this city could not disband the Guilds."
"Perhaps. I saw in my reports that the Guild of Seamstresses and the Guild of Beggars were the only signatories missing from the warrant for my arrest. I take it you represent Queen Molly as well?"
"Yes. We are now somewhat isolated amongst the Guilds."
"Because you supported me."
"Yes." Mrs Palm felt uncomfortable. "Might I be allowed to leave now your lordship?"
"I don't believe I asked you to come here." Vetinari looked back down to the desk. "I will attend to the matter you raised presently. Good day."
Rosemary Palm took her cue and turned to leave. The same offhand dismissal she and other guild leaders had received many times before. The same Vetinari, unflappable as always. However, this time she stopped. And turned.
"Is this all a game to you?" Vetinari paused and looked up.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You cannot just play with our lives and risk everything we've ever worked for just to see if you can win again this time!" She leaned on Vetinari's desk and raised her voice. "You obviously see us as nothing more than cogs in your precious little machine and if one of us fails you ensure we are repaired or replaced as smoothly as possible without any thought for the feelings of the cog."
"I have often thought of Ankh-Morpork as a machine Mrs Palm, but I assure you that you, Lord Downey and the others are more than just cogs." More like the levers and so on in a timepiece, he added mentally. The parts the cogs themselves rely on to be stable. He tried to move the papers away from the edge of the desk before she tipped them over. Mrs Palm saw the movement and struck the papers upwards, sending sheets flying around the room.
"Are you even listening to me?" she screeched.
"I would have thought my previous reply would indicate I was." Vetinari walked around the desk and started to pick up the papers, neatly stacking them on the desk.
"No! You're not! You are too important to this city to risk your life on a gamble like this. We rely on you – if you were not here, this city would crumble. We need you." She faltered. "I need you." Vetinari dropped the papers he was holding and cursed himself inwardly. It had been some time since he'd been told that by anyone, let alone by someone who looked like the rather stunning head prostitute.
"I am touched you feel so strongly – that your loyalty is such you…" For the first time, he was at a loss for words. He looked to Mrs Palm. "I am but one man – this city is greater than me, greater than the Guilds. If I die, another will take my place."
"Not for me." She took a step towards Vetinari, who found himself transfixed. He didn't move as she wound her arms around him; could not stop her as she reached for his hair with her right hand and lowered his head for a kiss. With a final look into Vetinari's eyes, she took the plunge and kissed him deeply. Vetinari allowed himself to return the kiss, feeling the warmth from her body spread through him and relax his aching body. He felt his body screaming that he needed this, he deserved this, what was the point of being Patrician if you couldn't take what you wanted? To his surprise, it was Mrs Palm that broke the kiss.
"Rosemary," he whispered, coughing to bring back his voice. "I didn't realise…"
"I know. And I know that however I feel, you don't feel the same. And that you and I could never be together because that would give you a weakness the other Guilds could exploit." She stepped back and looked him up and down a last time. "I had to tell you. I was distraught at the thought you could have died without my ever telling you how important you are to me. And now I must leave. I shall see you at the next Guild meeting. Your lordship," she finished, dropping a curtsey. Vetinari watched her leave without another word. After she had closed the door, he held his breath until he was sure he had heard her leave the hall outside.
"Come back..." he whispered, missing her touch though it had never been, and could never be, his. He sat down awkwardly on the end of his desk. "She is of course correct, it would be impossible for her and I to be together," he stated to the empty office. He stood, sat downon his office chair and started to shuffle papers again.
After a few hours of this, Vetinari looked up at the dark and empty office. He could still smell her perfume, still taste her on his lips. She used cherry lip balm. He wondered idly how many other men in the city knew that fact. The inner Vetinari, observing this scene with cold, hard clarity instructed him to leave well alone and to forget the whole incident and finish the pile of paperwork in front of him. The core of Vetinari, a part long subdued, waved and said that it would like a little romance in his life and that he should run after her right now. Eventually, the two halves decided on his course of action. Vetinari stood, blew out the candle, and went to bed.