The night used to come a little bit slower in this area of the Disc. The sun usually detour the unscalable mountains pouring its rays somewhere else. Living so near the Cory Selesty peak had its positives. The legends about the Cory Reds and the God's contribution into the human race made a lot of the travellers rethink before entering the Uyman pass. In fact it was the safest track through the mountains but there were no so many men that could pluck up their courage and stand against the vicious Amazons – the daughters of Gods1.

Bettina counted on that. She was still very young to be called a full member of the Amazon community but being adopted by a noblewoman would open some doors. The problem was that she was adopted by a noblewoman apparently becoming a military leader of a division where the martial spirit was granted more than someone's nobility.

When her adoptive mother found her wailing in the snow she was too young to have a child but being a captain of a regiment gives you some special rights. Bettina was more than obliged. She new what was to be expected from her even if she wasn't Lady Antonia's real daughter. It's known that the courage is not inheritable although everyone expected its appearance.

Bettina huddled herself to warmth against the biting cold. She was winded her warm stole around her steel uniform and tried not to shimmer. There were only few moments to the sun down. The time was to come.

Her fingers clung to the snow to prevent the stitch into her veins. The Amazon should never show her feeling, neither let anyone guess what she thinks, her tutors inculcated it in her mind since she became five years old. Her adoptive mother was still teenager and during her wartime exploits her tutors became the child's ones. A nasty way to spend your childhood.

Bettina smiled to herself. The sky became dark red and there already was a dark blue sight at the edge of it.

Any moment… Just wait one more moment…

The carriage rushed out of the pass, opened its door and swallowed Bettina in full swing.

'Good evening, mother', greeted Bettina while settling on the velvet seat. She smoothed her hair and adjusted the leather straps of her breastplate. The young lady at the opposite side on the carriage lowered her head and sighed.

---

'…and that's why we are to be extremely careful, Commander. The wedding is expected to become the centre of everyone's attention. After all Amazons happens to marry not that often.'

Vetinari glanced at Sam Vimes's face and welcomed his lack of expression. It was not easy to develop such strength of vision the Commander of the City Watch had achieved lately. It was a riddle for everyone who knew him, including His Lordship, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, well known for his practical absence of a face air.

'Me and my stuff would do all that lie on our pour.' Added Vimes, fastening his eyes on that point an inch higher and aside from Vetinari's head.

'Which is not that less if I could mention the Watch's last contribution into the civilian society… lately?' The Patrician added his transient smile and turned his attention onto Commander's eyes.

The truth was that lately there was something odd in the Commander's behaviour. There were rumours about some noise into the Vimes-Ramkin's estate. It started few weeks ago when came the first report indicating Ankh-Morpork as the pot where the noble wedding would be held. Actually it was a mystery for all that has some nobility in his blood and cote of arms over his gate. Inclusive lord Havelock Vetinari. The lack of spy into the Vimes-Ramkin's mansion he perceived as his own failure. After all no spy would go to the Scoon Avenue's toughest position. He put up with it. But the multitude refusals of the Vimes-Ramkin's stuff to co-operate were too much. It was obvious that sir Samuel Vimes had established quite unexpected loyalty. The Patrician learned his lesson and put some notes into his invisible mental notebook.

'What do you know about the Amazons, Commander?' Vetinari lifted up and moved to the large open window.

Vimes draw his attention over the window-sill where His Lordship had put his hands.

'Not much, sir', answered Vimes. 'All I have to know now is that a member of that unknown for us tribe would be wed soon enough to panic the entire world'.

'Very penetrating, Vimes' added Vetinari, still gazing at outward world. 'I see you have reached the point of my chat invitation. Please, have a seat.' The Commander was still standing. Vetinari raised his eye brows. 'It is going to be quite long'. He put himself back behind the well-arranged desk.

Sam Vimes stared at the empty armchair in his left and wistfully obeyed.

'It has come to my attention', ensconced the Patrician, 'that the groom is the one we have to worry about.' He put his fingers into the top desk drawer and extracted a heavy yellow file. 'Lord Stephen Marmora, pampered aristocrat, very rich, has a lot of friends --and spies-- everywhere – mostly because of his fortune. Has an excellent military drill and amazing knowledge in the martial arts. Some see him as the next warlord of Smaiil, although has no interest in politics. But who knows… He might become a good ally or… a vicious enemy.'

Vetinari turned his eyes up expecting to see Vimes's attention drawn on the file on his lap. It wasn't. The Duke's eyes were looking somewhere else. Vetinari tried to trace them but there was nothing to be seen on that side of the Oblong Office. Maybe the wall and the swept corner where the fat Agathean vase was put on.

'What is wrong, Commander?' jittered His Lordship. Vimes looked at his face and stood his eyes on his. That made Vetinari really wary. 'Is there anything I could help you? I see there is something you are fighting with but as I well know sometimes we all need an ally.' He leaned in his uncomfortable ugly chair and pacifically put his palms up on his knees. 'Share.'

Vimes lit his eyes over the Patrician's lap and tried to read his eyes. Yes, Vetinari had a complex personality, but he new him long enough to decipher the signals he managed to express. That wan was evidently showing him that there was no risk of misunderstanding.

Maybe the time has come. Sybil was strong woman but she was not that able to give him the support and mostly – the relief – he needed. There was too long since he received that letter. From then on there was no quietness and mostly – no peace in his mind. Maybe there was a time to share it with some one else. And Vetinari – strangely Vimes thought he was the perfect one to speak to – was there. How conveniently.

'Maybe this is not the perfect time, but…' Vimes turned his attention to the Patrician's patience of face and the way his eyes did not startle. 'I have a confession to do.'

Vetinari put his ears on and relaxed in order to receive what Vimes had to say. Probably it was not something that would worth to be heard, but Vetinari knew Sir Samuel for quite long and could easily read his face. The confusion it drawn was a bad sign. He had to do his best to help that spiritually nobleman from the pain he had in his soul.

He lit his eyebrows and settled cosy in his chair.

'I am listening, Your Grace', added Vetinari. Sam Vimes put his eyes on his and trembled with his lips. 'This is not easy to say what is in my heart…' started Vimes, sighing deeply. 'I guess you don't know my father. He was…' he screwed his eyes for a moment. 'He actually was not that bad, as I remember, of course, but I knew him not that long to judge.' He bend his head, so his confidante not to see the birth of tears which he swallowed rapidly.

'My mother used to tell me the way my father died.' Vimes continued. 'I was always thinking falling under a carriage a very stupid way to die. It looks like my mother had a bizarre way of vengeance.' Vimes stood up and fasted himself to the open window to have a breath. 'It seems like my mother was lying to me all those years. He was not dead. He just… left…'

'I see', added Vetinari and lifted himself from his chair. There was always some exact distance between them both which made them such a good team, according to Vetinari's observations. He couldn't destroy that distance even if his Commander was in pain standing over there; just a few meters away and definitely needed someone's shoulder to lean on.

It is not easy to understand that the truth you know well is not the truth as it is. Sometimes parents save their children the truth because it could heart their small worlds and force them into the painful reality. Vetinari realized that now – about fifty years later, Commander Samuel Vimes, the Duke of Ankh, the nobleman in spirit and position had to face some very painful moments. The truth of someone father's death occurred frequently in most of His Lordship spy's reports. It is obvious it has some unpleasant status for the person bounded with it.

He get into a mood to listen more carefully. Vimes turned slowly to him.

'It looks like my father left our home to… marry again. As you have noticed since some weeks I am not in a mood, but it happens that I have received a letter from a person calling herself my… sister… and apparently she is the one we call now The bride…'

'Excuse me', Vetinari shook his head. 'I might not understand your last words. Am I right, I heard you mention Lady Antonia de Constar?'

'Yes, I did.' sighed Vimes. 'She seems to be my father's daughter.'

Vetinari settled back in his chair. It was something to worry about. Yes. Now he could understand Commander's embarrassment. It was obvious he had the right to be furious. Nobody expected this to happen to him, especially if he always thought he was his parents' only child. And now this… So dully…

'Now I understand your behaviour, Your Grace.' Hinted Vetinari. 'It really is a bit of shock. The question is: How you feel about it?'

'How do I feel?' shouted Vimes. 'I feel like an ass. I have a sister I didn't know and she appears to be an Amazon and about to marry. This is how I feel!'

He growled angrily and settled back in his armchair.

Vetinari tried not to look too obstructive and lowered his eyes on the green file in the open desk's drawer. It was Lady Antonia's. He knew too little about that woman, turned out to be his best Watch officer's baby sister. Such a progress. Would it become something he could aware of? Does it require some analytically measures he had to launch? Should he expect from this situation some levels of danger?

Vimes had put his eyes in his palms. Vetinari knew it is even a bigger shock for the man he was trying to observe. Such an out of lack. Or maybe the opposite – such a piece of good fortune… Who knows?

'What are you intending to do, Sir Samuel?'

Vimes lit his eyes and took a deep breath.

'What could I?' he helplessly sighed. 'Shall wait and see. This appears to be the best way not to be hurt. I don't even know her. She is the one who contact me. I didn't have a chance to prepare for this kind of shock.'

'No one has', added the Patrician. 'The most important here is to react wisely, Sir Samuel. After all it might be a chance to have a sister as your ally. As I've heard the Amazons are very loyal people. And quite domestic. If you ask for my advice it is: Wait to see; See to react; And react not to loose.'

Vimes pondered over for a minute. There was something very wise into the Patrician's words. He might not be a clever man, but he was stubborn enough to make himself reacting as a politician. He never had a chance to be one – the Policeman inside him was too jealous to make a place for someone else. Maybe there was a time for it.

In times like this Vimes had no chance to hide what he was thinking from His Lordship. In moments of a true jar he was the only person that could calmly observe the situation and take the right decision in order to prevent bigger problems. It was one of his most respectful virtues that made him the best person each of the city guilds would nominate for the higher position he occupied.

While Vimes was still in his imaginary world, Lord Vetinari already had some draws in his invisible notepad. Vimes could be very useful, nevertheless of his bizarre moods and action virtue. He was not stupid, had his head on his neck and was a pride man. The nobility he was forced to made him even more bizarre, but he was well known as a man you can rely on in time when you have to put your force on. His soul was so full of emotions – more that anyone else's. That puzzled Vetinari, but it gave him possibilities he couldn't get other way. Yes, Vimes was a helpful subject in his part-time experiments. Now he was to become a bigger part in the city's future business. Who knows, it might be successful.

---

Dr. Downey had a hard moment. The clacks were obviously not joking. The Amazons were really coming to Ankh-Morpork. He had some unpleasant memories since his travel to the Cory Selesty area where his family was originated from. There are things one can not forget. Especially the ones that made you wake up with tears. He was just a teenager when his father presented him the vacation away from the city he was raised. It was interesting in the beginning, but then the incident…

Years before heading the Assassins guild of Ankh-Morpork Septimus Downey had a shock that changed his entire world. The word he used to tremble at appeared now. The Amazons were back. It was a trial for his nerves, and has to become his own war field if something goes wrong. There should be no chance for them to get him again. The boy he was then was gone now.

---

Captain Carrot pressed Angua's shoulders while she was still sleeping. It was already morning. Well, the sun was still hiding under the Circle Sea, but the watch he was gifted for his birthday beat five times. He was so used to wake up at about five that it became a part of his daily schedule.

Angua's shoulders lifted up. She opened her eyes.

'What happens, Carrot', she yawned. 'Can't sleep again?'

'Does it trouble you, dear?' Carrot's eyes were embarrassed enough to make Angua smile.

'You can't trouble me, Carrot. You are my husband and I have the feeling that the only person who could trouble someone is me.'

Carrot's face lightened. He pressed himself into her body trying not to hurt the baby in her womb. There was not much time left till the childbirth. The pregnancy suited Angua. Originally she was quite flat but now she had a lot to show.

The only problem had some kind of delicacy. The race of the child was a question held in them both since they were together for first time. They knew they would marry. It was a matter of time. They had planned a small wedding, about twenty guests – mostly colleagues from the Watch. But there were so many greetings and presents and letters from people they didn't even know… Leaving the Yo's temple they saw the street overcrowded with people. They all came to see Captain Carrot marrying a werewolf. Not Angua the Sergeant, nor Angua the beautiful neighbour. That made her irritated but when she saw his happiness she realized she was not Angua the werewolf any more. She was Angua – captain Carrot's wife.

Now when she had his head on her left shoulder, she was really happy. He made her happy. His magic became a part of hers and she really hoped the child would have a chance to show his face on its. 'Let it has no fur! Let it has no fur!' she repeated in her mind, hoping that would be heard by someone that has a power to make it true.

He lit his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The house they occupied was old one floured morporkian building with a large basement quite suitable for a couple middling dwarf families. The Bronchi's and the Smelter's were very grateful craftsmen. When the Ironfounderson's bought the house the families were allowed to stay. The house was a wreck. Soon enough it was repaired and rebuild here and there. That was the dwarf's way to say 'Thank you'.

Now Carrot could rely on the dwarfs when he was leaving for work. Angua would be let in good hands especially now when the child could appear any moment.

He stood up and put on his wool cardigan. The steel chain armour was put on the chair, near the polished breastplate. He forced himself to reach for them. He was worried. Angua was in a bizarre mood lately and he didn't want to leave her now. He had the strange feeling he had to stay home with her.

But Commander Vimes needed him and he couldn't escape his duty. He had a chance to avail himself of the Commander's offer for a parental leave, but Carrot hadn't had a holiday since his small travel to Ubervald searching for Angua.

He had to do his job because he was good at it. And it made him happy.

Angua had to admit that he was right. She was not in a mood to see him walking around her, babysitting her everywhere. She was furious enough that she had to leave the Watch last month. It was not fair. Yes, she was round and heavy and wasn't moving fast enough. But she could manage with her duties, no matter of the way everyone was looking at her. She was not a child and didn't need everyone acting like she had no pride. It was a disgrace.

Carrot brushed his hair and turned to the bed she was still in.

'I will be back as soon I could. If you need a hel…'

'I am not an invalid, dear.' Darted Angua her look at him. 'I am just pregnant.'

Carrot knew that look well enough to avoid continuing of the subject. He drew near to her, bowed and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Than put his lips on her paunch and lifted smiling.

'And don't let Mr. Vimes do that', said Angua when Carrot was leaving. He reopened the door and nervously opened his mouth. Than reconsidered that the words would not do the effect and smiled back.

---

The embassy of Smaiil was settled in a nice and quiet neighbourhood facing the embassy of Pseudopolis and not far from the small embassy of Lancre. The building was well preserved observing the total failure in the architecture and material ignorance. The architect was obviously mad man, because there could not be such a big living room while the kitchen was so abnormal small.

The Ambassador of Smaiil was a slim tall man with strange eyebrows so different by colour of his hair, that most of the people thought he had a wig. He hadn't. His eyebrows were artificial. Having a wife so practically in love with dragons make you an object of aggression by her charge, especially if you don't share her way of thought.

His Excellency Sir Thodeas Windswan Bryant de Panaretos was still young for an ambassador but his mind proved himself as a man you can rely on. His political career started since the end of his twenty's. His father was King Goran's best counsellor. At the time he died Sir Thodeas had established a name as a man related to the politics, the best candidate to send on a mission. Ankh-Morpork was a place everyone had to dream for. A city that gives you such opportunity you could only dream of.

He was happy to be in this position. No only as an Ambassador in this City of Ankh-Morpork. But mainly because his wife that chose to stay in Smaiil with her preferable dragons. He had much more time to be with his mistress he came with. The irony was that in constant to his fellows smaiilians his wife chose her. Madam Sarah Merintale was the best seamstress he could get in contract with. So different from the ladies he used to meet here and there. She knew techniques that made her irreplaceable both in bed and in public. Such a shame she chose that profession. She could be the best wife ever.

Sir Thodeas was expecting the arrival of Lord Stephen Marmora. They knew each other from the school. Not best friends, of course, but the Game made them both brothers during their trip in Smaiil's mountains.

The Game was named after its creator, Sir Simon Mate. It was a mixture of chess and field strategy. The couples – one strategist and one action figure – should learn to work together in order to survive. Sir Thodeas was a strategist. He had everything on mind, while Lord Stephen had always been an action man. They worked so successfully that made them Team No 1 for several years.

Sir Thodeas was expecting his old mate hoping he could remember the old times. Well, they couldn't play the Game here, but the planes could be a good practicing field.

Madam Sarah arrived from the shopping tour carrying her purchases through the servants door. Old habit.

'Dear, I am back', she shouted while she was unbuttoning her coat. 'Is he arrived?' she asked entering the study he was in.

'Not yet, sunshine.' Answered Sir Thodeas, reading some of the confidential papers on his desk. 'Any minute, I presume.'

'Fine.' Added Sarah. 'What would you like for dinner? I thought Lord Stephen would enjoy my smashed potato lamb pie and the stressed grape muffins you like so much. The cook is pealing the potato already. The grapes is in the cognac and soon will be in a good shape for the oven.'

'Yummy, dear', smiled Sir Thodeas and moved his chair enough to let her sit on his lap. She kissed him melodious. He turned the kiss back. She glanced at the papers on his desk. 'What are you reading?'

'Some files about the Amazon woman His Grace is about to marry', answered Sir Thodeas.

'Oh, that Lady Annabelle…'

'Antonia, dear'

'Yes, I remember.' She put her lisp on his forehead. 'Such a waist'

The Ambassador looked at his mistress. 'What do you mean, dear?'

'I mean her' she answered glancing at the papers again. 'All knows that the Amazons don't marry. What did she do to deserve such punishment?'

Lord Thodeas smiled at himself. His mistress had more wisdom than anyone he had to talk to that week. The Amazons don't marry. That was the first thing the researcher learns while observing the Quart affairs. It happened only several times in its thousand year's history. No wonder why the world was forced its way into Ankh-Morpork these days. Everyone had to see the wedding of the century.

'I also thought about it, dear', he glanced at her. 'What did she do to deserve such punishment…?'

'I heard she was some kind of a war hero', added Sarah. 'The girls on the market say so funny stuff. Most of them is sheer nonsense of course but who knows… Do you know what I heard: The queen of Quart was deeply in love with her but The Lady wasn't sharing her feelings! That was the queen's revenge. So odd, don't you think, dear?'

'You might be right, sunshine. As always you might be right…'

Sir Thodeas fastened his eyes on the door leading to the large entrance-hall. There was a noise coming from outside. He stood up, letting her step on her feet. She didn't have to be told what to do. She smoothed over her hair and corrected her lipstick. Lord Stephen was a man with some standards. Even his mistresses had to obey them.

Both of them walked to the main door when it opened. The advance party burst into the hall with their crossbows up. The Ambassador and his lady were having fun observing their rummage. Only when they established everything was in order they lowered weapons and escorted the 'package' in.

The 'package' was too big to be packed with any kind of paper. He was a tall slim man with a handsome face and searching eyes. His arms were in his trousers pockets and his look was so boyish that made Sir Thodeas put on his smile.

'Thod, you mouse catcher!' yelled the man and moved forward to get the Ambassador's hand. 'Still alive, still young and still good taste as I see the lady nearby. You! Get in here!'

Both men hugged and laughed.

Madam Sarah was expelled from the couple and found her way into the kitchen where the cook was trying to find a place for the potato masher. The ring on the servants door surprised her. When she opened it she found a bunch of house maids dressed in the Smaiil's servant uniforms. They were scared and tired. It was obvious they were out of home for first time. The oldest one was fourteen.

'Good evening, Madam,' said the girl. 'I am Lucy, the Head servant of His Grace. These are Millie, Jane and Monica. Just tell us where to put our stuff and where His Grace is going to sleep. We know what to do next.'

Sarah smiled at them. It was not long time ago when she was a part of a bunch like this one.

'The servants premises are over there. The Green guest room is upstairs just at the end of the hub passage. The cook is going to show you what to do. We are backing smashed potato lamb pie and stressed grape muffins.'

'Well done,' smiled Lucy and stepped toward the narrow passage to the servants rooms. In few seconds everyone was back dressed with clean uniforms. Lucy gave her orders. The maids dispersed. They all had work to do. In an hour time the dinner was ready and the house was as clean as never before.

'Where do you intend to live with you wife?' started madam Sarah, when the dinner plates were removed. 'You could not live in Smaiil, or in Quart. After all the couple have to have an independent life.'

Lord Stephen almost chocked. Sarah looked at her lover's face expecting to see his disapproval. There was no such. He was smiling at her. They knew each other for long enough to think almost the same.

'Excuse my lady for the rapid curiosity.' Added Sir Thodeas when putting his strong hand over his back. He coughed once more and put his tearing eyes over the lady in his left.

'I had no time to think about it, actually' he answered with some difficulty in his voice. 'It came to me as a shock. I didn't know I was the chosen one for this particular task.'

'So, as I presume the marriage is not a subject of a love affair?'

'No, it isn't'. He turned his asking eyes on his left where Sir Thodeas was settled. It was obvious he was having fun.

'You can answer her question', advised the Ambassador. 'It is better for you. She wouldn't stop asking if you don't. Be a good boy and satisfy her curiosity.'

Lord Stephen helplessly turned to the blue stare of the lady. She was waiting.

'I don't even know the woman,' he sighed. 'I was ordered to do my duty and enter the matrimonial state. Is that enough?'

'So you obeyed the orders you were given?' she asked back.

'Yes, I did.' Reported His Grace.

'Because you are a soldier?'

'Indeed.'

'Don't you fancy anyone?'

'Had no time.' He answered picking up his fork ready to stick it to the hot muffin.

'Poor man!' she shook her head. 'Look dear', she turned to the Ambassador. 'The King is a wise man, as I have always said. He knew that the man had no time to pick up a wife, so hi was doing this job for him. Such lucky people we are!'

'Indeed, sunshine!' laughed Sir Thodeas. 'And I was thinking this marriage has political reasons.'

'It still has, dear. The King has his reasons to kill two birds with one stone. Perhaps the Quart queen has the same thoughts. After all the peace is made by suffering. It is obvious who we have to thank for the time of peace we are about to live in.'

'You read my mind.' Smiled Sir Thodeas and raised his eyebrows answering the gesture given by his guest.

Lord Stephen was still wondering at the situation he was forced in but soon enough he understood the subtext of it all. He laughed for long until his eyes watered and started running. Soon enough the laughter passed to a deep pensiveness and his eyes burrowed in darkness.

The couple didn't need a face translator to see what embraced their guest's spiritual world. Lord Stephen was usually a likable man, nevertheless of his military experience that definitely made men more concentrated and unsusceptible interlocutors. He had a noble spirit, was a good game partner and mostly the best company one could find.

Looking at him now he had a different detachment.

'You are thinking to much, dear friend' added Sir Thodeas. 'As I heard, Lady Antonia de Constar was a very beautiful woman. We shall see her soon so I offer you to relax and wait to see what happens.'

The man was still gazing at the pot in the distance no one could see. Madam Sarah turned to her lover's face and lifted her forehead. He put his fingers on his lips and smiled. There was a time to talk and a time to listen. Lord Stephen's deep breath spread through the dining-room. It had a calming trend, comfortably settling its normal rhythm. There was a time when the army recruits were showed his presence of mind as the best desired for those who had expectations in the army life.

'I don't even know the woman' repeated Lord Stephen. 'And she doesn't know me. I guess this would be the shortest marriage ever.'

Madam Sarah smiled satisfactory.

'My mother used to say something very wise I forced to remember: 'Life is full of surprises. Don't waste your time guessing what they are'.

'Let's drink for the future we don't know!' Sir Thodeas raised his glass.

'To the future we can not change', added the lady.

Lord Stephen took a deep breath and followed them: 'For the future --what ever it is'.

---

Being in a position to judge people by the first sight was Sam Vimes' best gift. He had developed it for years, but the knowledge he had laid up in his mental background was as warm woollen blanket. Knowing so much about human – and nonhuman – expression had some good and bad sides. The good was that he had not to hide his own personality from those he thought as reliable. The bad were the possibility of being wrong.

His Grace the Duck of Ankh stood still outside the Watch Headquarters at Pseudopolis Yards. The crowd before him was yelling, each of the men were certain of his words been heard by. The apprehension of been misunderstood made them yell even louder.

The Commander was listening. Each of them separately and all of them as one. The voices were too quiet compared to his own voice threatening to explode.

'You have to do something, Sir', yelled a slim shivering man next to the huge figure of Detritus, leaned on the two undersized casters, having their last attempt in a city rebellion.

'The Amazons will kill us all cried Mr. Strong-in-the-arm, loading his newly repaired crossbow. 'Don't let them come, otherwise we will strike!'

Commander had his eyes glared long enough and when he moved the crowd moved back. No one had the courage to see Mr. Vimes in action. Perhaps some of them had some more important thing to do. Making their testaments for example.

'If I see one more weapon up I will let your wives know where you were buried.' He grumbled. The pavement in front of the Watch house rung out.

'Scatter out!' yelled Vimes and turned back to the entrance. He didn't have to have one more eye on his back to know that the crowd had disperse in a flash. Commander's back had the same obstructive effect as his eyes.

The door behind him opened and Detritus waved his arms still holding the couple.

'That was great, Sir!' saluted the troll. The fellow in his right fist flied off and settled on the elevated desk where Sergeant Collon was trying to enjoy the current events.

'Sorry, Sir!' saluted the troll again. His left hand lifted the next wretch dashing on the wall and falling loosing conscious.

'Oops!' cried Detritus. The stuff rushed to the bodies whining on the floor.

'Be more careful, Detritus!' hinted the Commander and rushed up to his office. The watchmen exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders. They had to admit that Mr. Vimes was in one of his moods appearing too often lately, which made him the worst man to share glasses with. The noise from the office above made them all wander where to patrol tonight. Being near their commanding officer was not the best job lately.

'What happens?' walked in Captain Carrot. 'I saw constables Red shoe and Balky carrying two very drunk men down the street.'

'It was Detritus, Sir', answered Sergeant Collon and followed Carrot's quick march. 'There were some protestors on the doors and someone threw a stone, you know how Detritus get touchy when one get to this, than Mr. Vimes came and before we count to three the fellows were scrubbed from the walls.'

'I see.' Sighed Carrot. Stepping in front of the Commander's office he turned his face to Colon's. 'Is he still…?'

The Sergeant shacked his head. Carrot took deep breath and pressed the door-handle. The door swung open.

Commander was sitting in his chair smoking. His face was grim. Carrot stepped inside and the door swung pack on the reddish face of Sergeant's.

'Good morning, Mr. Vimes.' Saluted Carrot. 'Angua sends her greetings.'

Sam Vimes removed his boots from the desk and seated comfortably.

'Is she feeling better?'

'Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. She says thanks to Lady Sybil for the herbs. She says her back is almost cured.'

'That's good.' Added Commander putting his face in his palms. Carrot had to admit that this was too much. Mr. Vimes had a look he hadn't sleep from weeks. His cheeks were concave and his eyes were red as a tomato.

'Still not well?' asked Carrot. Vimes shook head. 'She arrives today, I presume.' Sighed Carrot. 'Do you know what my father use to say? 'Don't fear of the fear. It is only feeling'. I suggest you go back home and have a good nap. She had not to see you like that. After all don't forget who she is.'

Vimes lifted his eyes and gazed at Carrot's. The honest face of his was so calm and wrapped in thoughts. He couldn't realize sometimes what he was telling. Lately his thoughts were becoming as wise as never. Vimes admitted that there were strange things happening in your head when you were about to become a father. The child changed it all. Your life was becoming different significance.

'You are right, Captain.' Raised himself Vimes. 'I have a lot of better things to do than stay here and manage illusive stuff.'

He moved forward and patted Carrot's shoulder.

'Little Sam has a birthday party to managed. Sybil could not find the best ribbon colour for the surprise gift. I have to be more often with my family. You also. Go home and stay with Angua as more as she don't get furious.'

He lifted his helmet and walked out of the office.

'Just be there, Carrot', he directed to the stairs.

The noise coming from down made Carrot jump after Commander Vimes. There were a lot of people bursting into the reception hall. They were all frightened enough to enter voluntarily into the Watch house. There must be something really horrifying outside. Carrot followed Commander's offensive through the crowd. The screams were even louder there. The Morporkians were oddly curious people nevertheless of the situation they were pushed onto. They were ready to put themselves into a fight at the Shades just to see what happens next. Even jumping into the river to witness the sink of that strange man with concrete banded on his knees.

These people were rushing into the Watch Headquarters screaming. Carrot was wondering what made them do that. The best way was to follow his boss, while he was forcing himself through the crowd.

'What is wrong here?' he heard Commander's voice. Someone answered: 'They are coming!' The crowd rushed zigzagging loosing distance. Vimes lost his distance too. The Amazons were coming and that didn't bother him much. The panicking idiots around made him furious. His face became purple.

'Stop everyone!' he cried. The crowd turned to see the newest attraction. It slowly settled.

'I am here, Sir.' Whispered Carrot in his back.

'Have you all lost your mind? Where is your self respect, Morporkians? Bow under a bunch of women! Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! Shame on you! What would your fathers say if they could see you now? What a waist of life we have here!'

'Yes, take your heads up!' understudied Carrot. 'What kind of people you are? You make me ashamed of you all.'

Carrot's face became grimmer. Soon enough the crowd dispersed heads down. Carrot had a strange influence in people's minds, especially when they all new he was right.

Vimes observed the migration. No one protested. No one said anything like: 'You copper! Get lost!'

There was no sign of Amazon invasion. There must be some idiot shouting 'Amazons!' That was enough to lay panic through the mass. There were a lot of talks in that direction lately. Even his wife had mentioned the strange information circling through the city. Amazons were becoming even frightener than ever. It all had some centred origins still unknown, but Vimes didn't hide his intention to dig deeper.

Carrot observed the mass moving in their directions. Being part of this society make you vulnerably adjusted to its prejudices and faults. But having your head on its proper place give you a key to manipulate the crowd the way you need to.

Carrot lifted his forehead giving Vimes to know he was still expecting things to go further. Commander red his mind and sighed.

'Extra patrols each fifteen minutes. Shades – ten minutes. Arrest anyone defying. They should know we manage it. If you need me I will be in the toy store.'

Carrot saluted and turned to the Watch house. Sam Vimes's steps were splashing on the wet pavement.

---

The carriage was parked in front of the Sewers guild. The problem with the threads had to be solved soon enough not to put the city into the serial panic. The Patrician went out of the main entrance with a release on his face.

Another job well done.

The coachman opened the door and jumped up on the box. The horses had to go round the cart parked in front of the carriage. The junior assassin Julius Polk fixed the rubber arrow on the crossbow and took a careful sight. The arrow hissed.

The Patrician bowed rapidly. The jab he expected transformed into a thin voice.

'Is that yours?'

He lifted his head up from the carriage window lit and fastened his eyes on the face coming closer.

It was a face wrapped up in a red transparent shawl covering everything below the big green eyes. The woman held the resisting body of he boy in one hand. The other squeezed the rubber arrow.

Lord Vetinari held his temper and mumbled: 'No, it is not mine. But I know who it belongs to.'

'Take it away from weapons. It could hurt someone.'

The woman put the boy step and moved to the carriage parked nearby. The women around it were staring at his direction. Under their veils they were smiling. The tall woman stepped in and the carriage moved on.

The boy in his sight was pale.

'I'm sorry, Your Lordship. I just had to find the best position to hit, not to really hit. It was my graduation work. I'm sorry.'

Vetinari knit his brows. Dr. Downey had been quite successful lately. He had to admit it. A welcome letter would do the work.

'You passed the exam, young man.' Smiled the Patrician. 'Please do transmit my greetings to miss Scolden.'

The junior assassin bowed and run away. He had to go home to change before presenting in the Guild school. There were some requirements about the students' underwear he had to obey.

The carriage moved forward. The other carriage passed the Contractual Bridge. As far as he could foresee its direction, Scoon Avenue had a long journey to go to.

---

Sybil Ramkin-Vimes was in the sixth month of her second pregnancy. Having young Sam both with her husband were not even hoping for a second child. Five years after the birth of their son they were surprised with an unexpected gift.

It started as a bad flue and when the faint and dizziness didn't pass, the Vimeses had to turn to a specialist. Dr. Lawn was explicit enough. They were expecting a child.

That came as a shock for both of them. Soon the entire city tongs had their names gossiped. The congratulations followed shortly.

Vimes didn't know what to say for first time in his long life. The Watch staff filled his office with baby clothes and underwear. Some wags put even Sonky packages between the complementary gifts. Vimes and Sybil laughed a full night.

Sybil received the note from the courier. Sam was coming back earlier. She had to prepare the samples. The ribbons she chose were too sissy for a boy. She needed a male verdict.

There was a knock at the door. The front door.

No one she knew were using that door. That must be some of the travelling salesmen going about the neighbourhood lately. She picked up her wallet. She needed a new toilet wash and the candles were cut down on lately. The door bell had to be changed. Oh, and the rust remover was about to finish.

She unlocked the door latch and pulled.

There was no salesman at the door. There was a woman dressed in red tunic over her red tight-fitting trousers.

'You must be Sybil.' Uttered the woman and removed the transparent veil off her face.

Sybil remembered to close her mouth. The face in front was such familiar. Where did she know it? Oh, Gods!

'Dear Yo! You must be Antonia, Sam's baby sister!' happily yelled Sybil and rapidly put her arms around the Amazon's shoulders into a tight hug. 'We were expecting you next week. Same was so expecting you! Oh, dear! Come in, come in! Don't stay at the door!'

She draw her by the fist and closed the door behind her. The nearest room was the Yellow Echoing Hall. She pulled her into it and settled the woman in the large pompous armchair.

'Sam would be in raptures over to see you. Just wait. He will be any minute. I just had a note from his that he was coming home earlier today. Do you know – young Sam has a birthday the day after tomorrow? We organized a small surprise party, but the ribbons for the surprise gift are our worst problem. Each year we fight for the colour and at the end the boy just wear it out.'

'I am so glad I came in time to attend the party.' smiled Antonia. She had a tired face and Sybil had a natural sense of that. She moved the small yellow stool and put the lady's feet on it.

She didn't protest. Just stared at her for a moment and let herself relax.

'I am so sorry for been such inhospitable. You might have been travelling for that long not to see an old woman like me hover about. Just feel yourself as comfortable as you are at home.'

The Amazon smiled and yawned.

'Excuse my temper. It was a tough journey.'

'I see. You must have gone through the Sto Lat lowlands. It is always so tiresome while travelling through the flat. Especially if your origin is the mountain.'

'I could not express myself better than the way you did', smiled the lady and leaned back into the comfy armchair.'

'Unfortunately I had no time to shop for my nephew's celebration', she sighed.

'It is not necessary to present him anything', protested Sybil. 'He would be happy enough to meet a family member he hadn't seen so far. He is, as you will soon see, a very impressionable boy.'

The Amazon smiled back. She yawned again.

'It doesn't excuse my lack of respect. Maybe I could present him something not that luxury.'

'What is luxury for the boy?' giggled Sybil. 'A wagon made by his father's hands. That is luxury for my Sam. Especially when he has no much time to spend with his family. Even lately, unfortunately.'

She downed her eyes. Than looked her carefully and took her hand in hers. Her voice became more moving and tender. Her eyes penetrated into hers.

'Since he received your letter he has no peace. You shocked him a lot, my dear. It looks like his mother spared a lot from him. He might be a little bit… hard… when he sees you but you have to wait, dear. Deep inside he is the most loving brother you could ever have.'

'It seems the only one I have, Sybil.' sighed Antonia.

She was not expecting to come to Sam Vimes' house in the first place. She didn't even plan to meet him here. She thought better to go to the Embassy first and later on to walk to the Watch house. He might be surprised but not as much as seen her here with his own wife.

She turned her attention to the way Sybil talked. She had been investigating a lot about them both. She was a remarkable woman. There was no trouble in finding information about her. It seems that everyone used to know the Duchess of Ankh. Sam was the problem Two years after her mother's death she knew as much as she used to in the beginning. He was a mystery. A man that seems to be wrapped in obscurity.

There was a noise coming from the entrance-hall. Sybil raised her head and cried:

'Come in here, Sam. I have to introduce you to someone.'

The Amazon stood up suddenly, expecting to see…

The boy entered the Hall. It was slim tall child with a fixed gaze that made all adults shimmer in cold. His bushy hair was combed aside. He had a wooden sling in his hand.

'Who are you?' Posed the boy at the front. 'I don't know you.'

Sybil planed his blouse: 'This is you aunt, dear. Be polite and introduce yourself.'

The boy studied her face for a moment, than stretched his hand and shook hers.

'Nice to see you at last, Your Grace.' Bowed little Sam. 'It is my pleasure to face the fearless Red Tulip.'

The Amazon squeezed her eyes. The boy was only five years old. He couldn't know that kind of things unless its parents…

'Sam!' squealed Sybil and waved her finger.

'It is all right.' Protested Antonia and turned back to the boy. 'The pleasure is all mine, dear Sir.'

She pressed her palms together and bowed her head to them. The boy imitated the gesture and laughed.

'You are a real gentleman, Mr. Vimes.' Smiled back the Amazon. 'There will be a time when you have to chose profession. Please do listen my advise. Go to the politics. You have a gift.'

The boy pressed his lips on her hand. Than giggled and run away from the Hall.

'Such remarkable son you have, Sybil!' Antonia stared at the entrance the boy disappeared into.

'Yes, he is so after his father. Such a gift for both of us. Sam and I were not even hoping we would be blessed with a child. When he was born I narrowly died. Now we are expecting our second. This time we hope it would be a girl. Sam desperately needs someone to hug.'

'Oh, you are pregnant! Such a blessing!'

The Amazon jumped up from her seat and took Sybil's arm, kneeling.

'In Quart we have a custom to present the pregnant woman with a gift by a mother. I am technically childless but am privileged to have a child adopted. So I am a mother after all.'

She thrust her hand into her bosom and draw out an emerald necklace she put in Sybil's hand.

'It is approved as a good manner to except the gift nevertheless of its value.'

Sybil was in shock. The necklace looked so expensive. It was obvious the lady in front her had it from generations. The inlaid work was extremely precise, the emeralds were polished and well-kept nevertheless they had passed in the bygone years. It was too expensive gift even for the richest woman in Ankh-Morpork.

'I couldn't…' she started but the Amazon stared at her.

Sybil knew a part of the story wrap in that woman's life. She had to read a lot lately about the Quart newest history, where the name of the Red Tulip had a grate influence. Been an Amazon's head war leader was something that couldn't be omitted like that.

One she heard made her muse: They said the Red Tulip's eyes could spear you all along. She thought it was a sheer nonsense. How could someone make grown men shiver like that? It was probably a translation error.

Now she had to admit her mistake. The gaze made her wish she was somewhere else. The woman was definitely a Stoneface Vimes' desandent.

Sybil lifted her shoulders and let her put the necklace on.

The steps aside made her get up.

'Sybil, there is a carriage in front of the gate. Do we have… guests…'

Sam Vimes froze at the door.

---

Dr. Downey had a hard meeting. The couple in black puzzled him. The man was unknown; nevertheless he knew most of the assassins between Klach and Lancre. He had a military posture and a face that could burn one's intestines.

The woman on the other hand was a mystery. The veil over her head was too thick to see through. She was sitting in her chair calmly, but the way the man was turning his eyes to her direction showed her significance in the matter they were here about.

They had a contract to launch.

Dr. Downey as a Head assassin had to become calm. It was important his clients to know that their matters would be kept in secret. He had to admit that this one was not the easiest job he was accustomed to, but the money were good enough to call for Sir Andrew Pie.

It was usual for the noblemen to become some of the best assassins of the Guild. They had free access to places forbidden for the ordinary peasants. The manners they had, made most of them a preferable company in any game. They were fine lovers and were opulent enough to arrange the top ten seamstresses in the city. An excellent information source for Who is Who in Ankh-Morpork.

Sir Andrew was a respectable man at the end of his forties. He had a huge fortune by himself – big enough to feel lazy till the end of his life. His late wife let him her even bigger fortune that made him a preferable marriage party.

The thing people didn't know was that Sir Andrew's little secret was named Jessica. She was his wife's sister oldest daughter, newly married and her uncle's soft spot. It is not accustomed to be in love with your own niece.

What other people didn't know was familiar for two people in the city. The first was the Patrician. It was impossible to keep a secret from him. The second one was Old Pete. He was a beggar with a talent and apparently in depth with Dr. Downey.

'I have a job for you, Andrew.' Glanced Dr. Downey when the assassin moved from the darkness into the study. 'I thought you were the best for this specific task, so I hope you would enjoy my efforts to make your career up.'

'Thank you for that, Septimus', added Sir Andrew, fixing his eyes on the paper in Downey's hands. 'What is the job?'

The head assassin handed him the list. The aristocrat red tiny handwriting and moved his astound eyes up.

'That is…'

'Indeed.'

'The task is quite…'

'I also think so.'

'That would move my career so up that I…'

'You don't have to thank me now. Soon enough you would have that chance.'

'Well, the risk is huge but the prise…'

'Five hundred thousand dollars. At least half of them.'

The assassin put his eyes on the note again. That couldn't be true. It was as a gift from Gods. A birthday present without a birthday to come.

He fixed his gaze on Dr. Downey's. He wasn't smiling, was he? He was just his employer. If he wanted to make a trap that wouldn't be in such manner.

It was well known that Sir Andrew was the best assassin during the last six years. It might have brought him a name of a killing person No 1, but mostly it brought a popularity as dangerous as a night in the Shades. With no knife in your pocket.

Downey's face was so clear and soft. He had a detachment of the man's best friend in action. The smile on his face made him look inoffensive and friendly.

Sir Andrew was not a wise man but he could read people's faces. The face in front was innocent and charming.

'Is there a dead line to the job?' he put the list in his waistcoat pocket.

'Two weeks and not a day more.' Answered Downey.

'Than…' thoughtfully rose the assassin. 'It is Saturday 2nd, two weeks is at Saturday 15th.'

He moved around the chair he was settled in, than suddenly break off and glanced at Dr. Downey's.

'That is the Wedding day!'

'Yes, I was informed already.'

The Head assassin seated back.

The stare didn't help. Sir Andrew had been very successful lately, his job had the best evaluations in the Guild's gatherings. But he was an honest and sentimental man. He now realised he was given with this job to test his perceptions. He had to chose – either to do the job the best way he was trained to, or to quit right now.

The consequences of the first would make him welcome the insomnia he cured so hard. When his wife was alive he rarely even work. She made him promise, because she knew he had a heart, unlike his fellows assassins. If the job involved some specific character he preferred to refuse, it wasn't taken at al. Her death put him into a deep depression he cured by the only medicine he could find – working.

The second could make worse. The shell of unimpeachability would crack as an egg. He couldn't let it happen. It was not fair.

He swallowed with difficulty and moved forward.

'I take the job.'

Dr. Downey smiled satisfactorily and followed him exiting the study.

Having Sir Andrew into this task would bring him success in both scenarios he planned. If he succeeds it would be fine because he could present it at the Guild's next meeting as a result of his own good management. In case of failure Downey would be fine again, because he really hated that man.

The Guild's trustees had to admit that there are tasks to fall after all. If the best of the best was not able to do the job than who could? The dispute would last long enough for Downey to prepare the next inanity to put their minds on. And who would they elevate at the following elections was out of question.

Both scenarios were good. Best to be the second but who knows? Anything could go wrong.

Downey rang the bell on his desk. The secretary entered rapidly.

'Yes, Sir?', sounded the tired voice of the young clerk.

'Let Mr. Sprat I would like to see him in twenty minutes', commanded Downey. The young man fixed his glasses and flashed a bitter smile. When the door was shut Dr. Downey put his face in his hands.

There is a time for action and a time for indolence. Now was the perfect time for both of them.

---

The Ambassador of Quart was a lady advanced with years. She didn't want to come to Ankh-Morpork. Being a cousin of the queen was not the best thing for a woman that dreams for her peach garden only. What happened was not a secret. The queen, a lady with a short temper had had a bad week. In this case all had annoyed her and there was just a matter of time to find her next victim. The family was not exception.

Lady Astral had an unspecified medical problem that had to keep her in bed for many hours. That was not the best position as an Ambassador, but being one of Quart was an exception of the rule. At least Quart didn't have more than two hundred members of the state situated in Ankh-Morpork.

The highest of the Quart's export was the know-how. Amazons were the best engineers and most sophisticated warriors. There were more generals from an Amazon origin in the belligerents on the Disc than in Quart. The best merchandise Quart had was the gold ore the Amazon dwarfs were mining from the West and Southwest part of the Grumble mountain chains. The gold made the Amazon territories palatable for invasion. The war history of Quart was lost in the past. When even the Morporkians were just establishing their small village, the Amazons were in their barracks deciding in the course of action against their ancient enemy. Smaiil.

Lady Astral was still young when her cousin, the Queen, established the first committee for peace with Smaiil. There were a lot of attempts in that direction, but all of them unsuccessful. She had the idea how to make a successful try to end the perpetual conflict, but been a cousin made her voice even noiseless.

Having the diplomatic letter in her hand she smiled. She red it so many times and knew each word. It had her plan done. The voice was listened, even from direction too far.

The servant entered and bowed.

'Let them in', ordered Lady Astral.

The girl obeyed. In a few seconds the bunch of red dressed lady soldiers burst into the parlour.

'Welcome, daughters of Sheeba!' she yelled. 'Who of you appears to be Lady Antonia?'

One of the ladies made a step out, removed her veil and bowed:

'Mother is staying outside of Quart Embassy tonight.'

'Where exactly, young Bettina de Constar? As far as I know your mother has no where to go except…'

'Indeed.' Smiled Bettina. 'She's been invited to stay at her brother's home. I am also. As soon as I convey my mother's greeting I should present myself in Scoon Avenue.'

The old woman sighed and burst her eyes. She had a chance in meeting the Tulip seven years ago. It was a formal meeting with foolish conversation that give nothing but disinformation about the people you just met. As far as she knew, Lady Antonia used to have a unique approach with people. And she knew she was seeking for her late father's son.

She had at least twelve sources pointing to Sir Samuel Vimes as a potential brother. She wrote the detective lady Antonia had hired to do her the job. She was expecting a polite conversation and a couple of visiting into the Vimes-Ramkin mansion. But staying there? With His Grace as a host?

She must have misjudged Lady Antonia's way of management.

'Well, I am happy your mother is having a reunion. Please send her back my regards. I will see her tomorrow morning. We have a wedding to arrange.'

Bettina bowed again and moved back. The other women followed her. The Red Tulip's guardswomen were well known for their specific skills and especially for their extraordinary loyalty to their mistress.

Lady Astral sighed deeply and moved back to her comfy armchair. They have so many things to do. The couple of weeks would pass as a flash.

---

1 It has always been hard to tell what happens when Gods interrupt into people's lives. The Amazons look the ones experienced enough to become a thorn in the Disc's flesh. It is not easy to be God's best manipulative bitch.

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