Wizzardly Accusations

Chapter One- Beginning at the Beginning

The Discworld- a magical place, supported by the four elephants perched on the great celestial turtle A'Tuin. Not only is it magical, but it is thoroughly nonsensical and delightfully mad. It is a place where wiz(z)ards cast their spells, where witches brew potions under the half-moon, where dogs can talk and there be dragons… Also where nobles are barking mad and the cleverest people alive chase the Eater of Socks through the laundry room. It has its fair share of crime, too, even if it is properly organized crime that managed to worm its way out of paying the taxes.

However, only some of this has any part in the story that is about to unfold. It is a tale of mystery, malice, murder*, mayhem, and other words that begin with 'm'. It is also about assassins, Watchmen, Patricians, and other dimensions, all smushed together in a symphony of majestic proportions, or at least of just proportions.

And it all began one rainy night, in the bedroom of Havelock Vetinari, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork.

It was a dark and stormy night, and the Patrician had decided to turn in early, an event which rarely occurred due to his busy schedule. The paperwork was left in a neat pile for Drumknott to pick up in the morning, and everything was properly in its place. The gears of the machine were well-oiled indeed, and running smoothly. Well, as smoothly as they could.

Vetinari had quietly gotten to bed, which was an expensively stylish affair of uniquely carved wood and soft sheets. It was also extremely comfortable, which is a very important quality in a bed, especially the Patrician's.

There was a flash of lightning that lit the room, throwing shadows into sharp relief. One shadow was particularly sharp… and it was the shadow of a robed figure with a knife, who somehow managed to get this far without getting killed…

With surprising speed and agility for a man of a continual forty-something, Vetinari snatched up his stiletto, and faced his opponent. He tried a quick stroke to take the figure off-guard. The thrust was parried clumsily. Vetinari, having a mind to finish this thing off quickly, turned, and, with an expert thrust, went to stab the figure in the ribs.

To his mild surprise, the stroke was turned by… a box. Another flash of lightning lit the room, showing what was indeed a box, but a box with hundreds of delicate feet…

The figure, seeing its chance to escape, turned and ran. It left a brief trail of salty water on the carpet, before disappearing into shadows, the box following quickly behind.

The stiletto disappeared as quickly as it had come. Then Vetinari walked back to the Oblong Office, and summoned Drumknott.

"Send for Vimes," Vetinari told him, and then began to write a memo.

***

When Rincewind woke up, he began to mentally check his surroundings. Bed. Sheets. Window on the right side. He opened his eyes, didn't scream for once, and reached for his hat that was always hung on the only intact bedpost. For once, it wasn't there. Upon further searching it was found to be at the foot of the bed, lying on the floor. One of the sequined stars was off of it, too. Rincewind privately fumed. It had taken ages to sew all the bloody sequins on it…

Leaving the hat on the floor, Rincewind fell face-first back onto his pillow. The day had the beginnings of a bad one, so thus the best option was to just stay in bed, and wait until tomorrow to put off what was to be done today.

Just before he fell asleep, there were voices outside his door. One sounded an awful lot like Ridcully, but the other was unknown to Rincewind.

"You can't go in there!"

"I've already told you, this is Watch business. I can go in there."

"I will not allow you to just barge in and search the blasted place! It's bloody unhygienic!"

"I don't care what it is, I've got orders from Vetinari, and I'm going to do what I have to."

"Don't you have to have some bloody evidence before you search?"

"Fine, fine! Here!" There was a pause, obviously of something being produced.

"Bloody hellfire!"

"Evidence enough for you? Or perhaps this, as well?" Another pause, another item.

"But that's… no… I saw him sew the things on himself… took him ages…"

"Will you let me through now?"

"Well…I can't stand in the way of the Watch, can I? I still don't like it, but I suppose there's no other choice, really…"

There was one last pause, which was then filled with the sudden 'bang!' of Rincewind's door** being forced open and rebounding against the wall. The door swung shut again, and was opened in a far more civilized manner.

Rincewind had yet to move, and yet to care.

Then, he found himself handcuffed, and being read his rights.

"…you have the right to a sodding lawyer, and we'll give you one if you're too bloody poor to hire one yourself; you have the right to stay shut up, because you'll regret everything you say probably soon and definitely later…"

"What? What?"

"I said," Vimes sighed and began to start over.

"No, no, what am I bloody accused of?"

"I was getting to that," Vimes replied, leading Rincewind towards the door. "You've been accused of the attempted murder of the Patrician…" He didn't get any further.

"Are you completely daft?" Rincewind cried, and would've thrown his hands in the air if they hadn't, indeed, been handcuffed. "You're stark raving mad if you think I did that, of all bloody people!"

"…and you are also accused of assassination without belonging to the Guild, and a few other things that I'm not going to bother to say," he continued, ignoring Rincewind's outburst.

Rincewind was marched down the stairs, while the other wizards gathered at a safe distance, muttering among themselves.

"…he's not that daft, is he?…"

"…we're talking about the same wizard, right?…"

"…wait, Rincewind? Assassin? What?…"

"…pass potatoes the do, good my chap?…" That was the Bursar, without any doubt.

"…is it time for your frog pills, Bursar? Oh, how the time flies…"

Within the space of two minutes, Rincewind found himself in the old horse-drawn police cart. It was the one that was over forty years old and used to be used nightly by the Night Watch. Nowadays it was generally used for those really dangerous (and utterly insane) lawbreakers. Rincewind sat on the old bench, still handcuffed (a rather irritating and problematic point) and completely miserable.

Bugger.

The cart began to bump down the street, hitting every possible pothole that ever existed in the roads. During one particularly violent bump, the chain of the old, rusty handcuffs caught themselves on a nail that protruded rather far from the wall…

Snap.

Rincewind stared as the handcuffs came apart in his hands. The things had been ages old already, and it hadn't taken all that much to snap them apart.

Rincewind carefully walked over to the door of the cart. There was a small window with bars, and the gaps in it were just wide enough for Rincewind's arm to fit between and, after a few tense moments of uncertainty, push the bolt.

The door swung open soundlessly on nicely oiled hinges. The streets beckoned, and Rincewind jumped off of the cart, towards potential freedom. However, he had just started off at a nice jog towards Sator Square when the cart's door slammed shut. The resulting noise echoed around the unusually empty street. The air stood still.

"Hey! You!"

Rincewind had already started running before the first word was in the air. He sprinted down the Street of Small Gods, turned sharply onto Upper Broadway, then onto Widdershins Broadway, heading nowhere in particular. As he always said, the to could figure itself out later. The away was the main point.

Off in the distance, just in the range of hearing, Rincewind heard someone shout, "Get Angua! Now!"

Oh, bugger.

Angua was rather well-known in the criminal matrix of Ankh-Morpork. When it was found that the Watch had hired a werewolf, crime had evolved and adapted. Peppermint and antiseed oil was being sold daily in the Spice Market, if you knew where to look.

Fortunately for Rincewind, he knew exactly where to look.***

After a quick sprint down a few alleys and small streets, Rincewind came to the Spice Market. People thronged everywhere, and the sounds of bargaining filled the air. Stall owners shouted their wares, customers shouted at the owners, and the people on boxes shouted at everyone in general. Rincewind walked, pushed, shoved, was shoved, pushed, and walked on as he attempted to get over to the left side of the Marketplace. If he could get there quick enough, he could probably get a bit of peppermint oil made into an effective bomb for a few dollars…

"Hey, guv, I've got a deal for you!" CMOT Dibbler had spotted Rincewind, and was coming in for the kill. "Look at this- it's a ball made of the finest crystal from the Sto Plains, and I'll sell it to you for ten dollars, and that's cutting me own thro-…" He didn't get any further, since he was swept away by the crowd.

Finally reaching the partially hidden stall, Rincewind breathed a well-deserved sigh of relief. He slid up to the stall as unnoticeably as possible, realizing that that was bloody pointless, since it'd take a miracle of sight to find any specific person in the Market's huge crowd.

"So, guv, what'cha be needin' from th' likes 'o me?" the scruffy, shifty-looking stall owner.

"Er…peppermint oil…" Rincewind replied, trying to keep his voice low and still be heard over the crowd.

"Wha'?"

"Peppermint oil!"

"Wha'?"

"Peppermint oil!"

"Oh, peppamint o'l," the vendor ducked behind some crates, searching and messing with a few things out of sight. In a few moments, he produced a pre-made peppermint bomb.

"Tha'll be sev'n dollas, guv," he held his hand out for the money.

"Here! Keep the blasted change," Rincewind shoved a ten-dollar piece into the vendor's hand. It was inspected thoroughly, and, having passed the authenticity test, was swiftly pocketed.

"Cheers, guv," the vendor handed Rincewind the bomb carefully. "An' I ne'r sold it to ya', neither."

Rincewind hid the bomb in his sleeve for the time being. At the right time, he threw it. The thing sent peppermint oil everywhere, and everything within about thirty feet of the bomb reeked of the stuff for hours later.

With that in order, Rincewind hurried from the Marketplace, and ended up down Short Street, then turned up Baker's Street, then doubled back, came up on Two Trees Way in a desperate attempt to keep anyone off of his trail.

He was heading for somewhere where he could buy a fast horse, and possibly a new hat along the way. Rincewind was very conscious of his lack in the hat department. It had always been said that a wizard would always come back for his hat, but Rincewind felt that discretion was the better part of valor, at least while the Watch was after him.

He walked down an unpleasantly empty alley, the kind with more trash in it than most and was dark even at noon on a cloudless day. Turning slightly, he looked behind him, having the vague feeling that he was being watched. All he saw was a dog that lay on the old cobblestones. It was watching him with bright, intelligent eyes, and, upon a slightly closer look, he saw a badge glimmering on its collar…

Bugger.

He continued to walk down the alley with an exaggerated calm, and then burst into a fast run. Angua barked sharply behind him, and someone burst from behind a stack of rotting crates, and was knocked over as Rincewind ran past, cursing loudly. Angua bounded over the fallen Carrot, pursuing Rincewind down Filigree Street. Pushing past a crowd of people gathered around a soapbox, Rincewind turned up towards the Brass Bridge.

There was the gentle sound of dice, drowned out by the roar of the mob.

An unattended horse stood placidly by some shop or other. Snatching up the reigns and heaving himself onto its back, Rincewind urged the thing into a gallop towards the Bridge, aiming for the Gate out of Ankh-Morpork.

* Well, attempted murder

** Portus exitus, or, the common doorway.

*** You didn't survive very long if you didn't know where to look for things like that.

Author Note- I do not own Discworld or the Discworld game, nor do I own Rincewind, no matter how much I want to. Thanks for all who read this, my first official Discworld fanfiction. Do come back again!