Hey there folks. Okay, here's chapter two. Thanks so much to all the lovely people who reviewed the first bit, you are all now my bestest friends lol! Hope you like this bit as much.

Her name was Henriette Nonsense. She was a good looking young woman of roughly twenty three years of age. She had a long nose and slightly high forehead. Her eyes were a rather pale shade of blue and right now she was using them to glare at the ruler of Ankh-Morpok in a way that stated very clearly that she was in no mood to be trifled with.

Lord Vetinari was looking at her over the top of a report on the grain tax. One of his slender black eyebrows was hitched up higher than usual.

"I beg your pardon?" he said silkily.

"I said I want to see my father."

The other eyebrow went to join his companion.

"I see. And this involves me in what way may I ask?"

She sighed. "You've got him locked up here."

"Ah."

The Patrician put down the grain tax report and steepled his fingers. He took a long breath through his teeth, tapping his index fingers against his bottom lip. Of course you did get wives and children who occasionally turned up to plead for their assorted family members whom he had temporarily incarcerated in the dungeons. However as the last occupant had been that unmarried, childless street mime he was at something of a loss as to whom she could be referring.

"And may I ask, who exactly is your father?"

"Leonard of Quirm."

Lord Vetinari did something very odd that very few people had seen him do before and even fewer believed he actually did. He blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"Leonard of Quirm, he's my father. You've got him locked up in the roof or something."

"And how precisely would you know this?"

She dug in her pocket and pulled out a rather ragged piece of parchment.

"He sent me a letter. Took a bit of time to arrive of course as he gave it to a sailor and we're a bit inland in Pseudopolis, but it got there in the end."

She handed the paper to Vetinari who took it gingerly and read it.

"Dear Henriette," he read. "I know I haven't written in a long time but I've been rather busy. You should see some of the wonderful designs I've come up with! Lord Vetinari has been so kind, giving me the loft and all my materials, not to mention this opportunity to experiment with some of my machines in the real world. We're in Klatch by the way, isn't that wonderful. We've been underneath Leshp, you know, I took you there the other year. Anyway it's all been terribly interesting but I was wondering if you could see your way to bringing me those plans I was doodling before I left, because I can't find them in the Palace so they must still be with you. Thank you. Oh er, love to your mother and so on. Leonard of Quirm (daddy)."

In true Leonard style the margins of the page were packed with miniature sketches and doodles of various oddities of the animal, vegetable and mineral variety. Vetinari handed it back.

"And this I take it is your only proof that you are the lady to whom the letter is addressed?"

Henriette smiled at him.

"Well there's these," she said, upending a large carpet bag onto the desk. They were plans. And drawings. And paper models. They were all covered in Leonard's distinctive mirror script.

Vetinari picked up a couple of the papers and glanced at them. Then he rose suddenly.

"Very well then. If you will follow me."

Henriette had to scrabble to put everything back in the bag before she followed him through the door which had appeared in the wall. She cursed herself that she hadn't seen how he did it. She followed him down a dark corridor and around a corner and down another corridor. She watched carefully as the Patrician negotiated the various traps set and copied his movements exactly, memorising them.

Eventually they reached a door. Vetinari pulled a key from his pocket and carefully unlocked the door, pressing his ear to the woodwork as he did so. Henriete soon found out why because, just as the lock clicked there was a fearful banging from behind the door and it flew open. Bits of flaming metal gouged the wall opposite the door and the Patrician had to grab Henriette and push her against the wall out of the way. She marvelled at the quickness of his reactions. He had to be nearly fifty and he had reacted quicker than a young man of twenty. She was impressed.

When he had decided that it was quite safe, Vetinari released the girl and peered around the edge of the door. He motioned her to follow. Peeling herself away from the wall she followed him into the room.

Her father was cheerfully pottering around, pouring water over the remainder of the flames and muttering to himself about temperature gauge reliability and mercury imbalances. Then he seemed to notice them.

"A great pity my lord," he said, dusting himself off. "It could have revolutionised the bread making industry."

"I wasn't aware that it was an industry which required revolution," replied the Patrician, regarding the wreckage sceptically.

"Oh every industry needs technological revolution sir. It is one of the most basic needs of progress, oh hello Henriette. Did you bring me my things?"

Henriette wordlessly handed him the carpet bag which he took greedily and began to rake through the contents. Half way through he glanced up at her.

"You're older than I remember," he said.

"Yes father," she replied. "I was sixteen when you left for Ankh-Morpok."

"Oh yes, and what was I going for again?"

"You were looking for a wealthy patron to sponsor that giant brass elephant you wanted to build."

Leonard regarded the Patrician carefully.

"Have I built you a giant brass elephant my lord?" he asked.

"I don't believe so Leonard, no."

"I see. Ah well, can't be helped." And he went back to sorting through his bits of paper.

"Well," said the Patrician, turning to Henriette. "I shall leave you with your father for the moment Miss Nonsense and shall return later this afternoon to discuss matters with you."

"Matters?" she queried as he headed for the door. He gave her a thin and rather unnerving smile.

"Matters Miss Nonsense."

And with that he was gone.

"Henriette will you pass me the Long Piece of Metal for Tightening Screws please?"

Henriette sighed. That was the nice thing about her father. No matter how much time he'd been gone he'd always act as though he had only been gone for ten minutes. It was oddly comforting.

(blahblahblahIhatethedamnformatingonhereblahblahbliddyblah)

Biers was quiet, but then it was Monday night. Susan Sto-Helit was sitting in a dark corner2, sipping a gin and tonic. She always needed a drink on the first day of the week, just to remind herself that there were still good things in life; except the gin in Biers wasn't very good at all so she was having to use a lot of imagination.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, enjoying the quiet. At least she was until an all too familiar voice from the table said, SQUEAK.

Susan moaned and put her hands over her eyes.

"You're not here," she said aloud. "When I open my eyes you won't be here."

Slowly she spread her fingers and peaked through them.

SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats from deep within his miniature cowl.

Susan moaned again and let her hands drop.

"What do you want?" she asked. "On second thoughts I don't want to know. Tell him I'm not getting involved."

She picked up her drink and knocked back a considerable mouthful while the little skeleton watched her mournfully.

SQUEAK EEK.

"No."

EEK.

"No."

SQUEAK EEKIT EEK EEK!

"I beg your pardon!"

The rat looked sheepish and she sighed.

"It's alright," she muttered. "Just try not to use that kind of language again."

The rat nodded and began to hop up and down.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Susan got up and wrapped her cloak around her tightly. As she passed the bar she threw a few coins on the counter and nodded to Igor.

Outside there was a chill wind blowing. Susan took a deep breath, then remembering her proximity to the River Ankh coughed heartily. A snowy white horse was waiting for her and he nuzzled her as she stroked his nose affectionately.

"Hello Binky," she whispered before swinging herself up into the saddle. "Here we go again."

As Binky took off, cantering into the air, Susan wondered what her grandfather could have done this time that required sorting out.

In a few minutes the white horse touched down on the grass in front of her grandfather's house. Susan let him wander back towards the barn while she went inside. Albert was in the kitchen, scrubbing the hob.

"Evening Albert, where is he?" she asked.

The elderly little man peered at her and then pointed through a wall.

"Study," he muttered before going back to his task3.

Susan stalked through the house and then corrected herself; ladies walked primly, they did not stalk. Sure enough she found Death seated at his great black desk among the discarded remnants of various ill-fated hobbies. It was one of his peculiarities that, since he took what could in some circles be referred to as "human form" he had a tendency to act like a human. This usually only served to highlight how un-human he was and so his house became filled with broken violins, half finished jigsaws and barely completed paint-by-numbers pictures of cute little kittens with red bows at their necks. Just now he was occupied in one of the few human pastimes he was actually good at; building a card house. He had the infinite patience required to be exceedingly good at it.

"Grandfather?"

OH, HELLO SUSAN. HOW ARE YOU MY DEAR?

"Not bad. And yourself?"

SCYTHE ARM'S BEEN PLAYING UP A BIT BUT I CAN'T COMPLAIN OTHERWISE.

"I see."

There was an uncomfortable silence while they both tried to ignore the fact that he had not called her here for a friendly chat about health.

"What do you want?" she asked eventually and he began to fiddle with a couple of cards.

OH, ER… WELL I CAME ACROSS SOMETHING THIS MORNING AND THOUGHT PERHAPS…

"You thought perhaps I could sort it out for you?" Her voice held the tell tale note of faint displeasure which was usually enough to send the little darlings she worked with into knicker-wetting mode.

NO, THAT IS… ALRIGHT YES.

Susan folded her arms and glared at him.

"And what would this something be exactly?"

Death sighed. She wasn't going to like this, but he was so busy just now. He told her. There was a moment's blissful silence while she digested what he had said but it was only the peace that comes between the wing flaps of the quantum weather butterfly and a moment later he was subjected to the full force of the storm. She was so angry she actually used the voice.

YOU WHAT!

The card house collapsed. Death regarded it sadly, oh well, he could always build another.

2 In actual fact Biers could be described as one big dark corner but the laws of the narrative demand that the main character in the scene be seated in a dark corner so we can just imagine that Susan's corner is slightly darker and more cornerish than anyone elses.

3 Albert didn't like anyone, not even his master but while he tolerated Death he found that damn girl a right pain in the porridge pan.