Lord Havelock Vetinari Patrician of Ankh-Morpork shook hands with Death. When he sat down however, he was only Havelock.
"River rocks are a good description. Who was it?"
MY GRANDDAUGHTER.
"So Susan Death really does exist?"
YES, AND IT'S HER THAT I WANT TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT. MR. VIMES DID NOT LIKE IT.
"How angry was he?"
HE LOOKED LIKE HE WAS GOING TO HIT ME. HE GLARED AT ME.
"He does that to me all the time, but I'm not an anthropomorphic personification of the end of worlds. You must have made him furious. What did you say to him?"
I TOLD HIM I KILLED SOMEONE.
"Your granddaughter?"
NO. IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE.
"That normally wouldn't tip him off unless he considers it murder."
THERE'S A DIFFERENCE?
"For Vimes there is. He has killed many people but he never murdered anyone. He's very particular about that."
SO WHAT I DID WAS MURDER?
"It depends on what you did."
I WATCHED A LITTLE GIRL DIE. I TOOK TIME AWAY FROM HER.
"Ah, yes that would do it."
YOU'RE NOT MAD?
"Oh, I'm angry, but I won't do anything about it yet."
YET?
"I'm not as brash as the Commander is. I can wait until later. Please go on."
I MET HER BEFOREHAND. SHE GAVE ME TEN MINUTES. SHE DIED BEFORE SHE HAD TO.
"Yes that counts as premeditated murder even if it is only ten minutes."
BUT SHE GAVE THEM TO ME, I DIDN'T STEAL THEM.
"Even though she chose to die early, you still caused her death by honoring her request. You say you took time from her. You took life from her. That is the very definition of killing."
OH… SO I AM A MURDERER. THAT'S WHY SUSAN IS MAD.
"Well, there's an ill-defined legal and moral ground between causing someone's death and murdering them. Vimes has drawn a line down the center of it and built a barbed wire wrought iron fence on it a mile high with a moat in front filled with poisonous crocodiles. He knows damn well where homicide stops and murder starts. For him it is all about intent and remorse. For my part, I believe the person is just as dead regardless, but I understand why he would think that way."
"You approached someone with the intent to take her life. On the official Vimes Sliding Scale of Evil, that would be considered bad. You asked her permission and she agreed knowingly. That is good. You asked a child to make a complex life decision when they don't have the maturity to understand fully what they are doing. That is bad. I'm assuming you took this life painlessly?"
YES
"That is good then. You still took her life despite being fully aware of the consequences of your actions. That's bad. You are showing remorse. That's good. You are attempting to understand your actions with enough determination that you would approach a man known for his ability to arrest absolutely anyone. That is idiotic in my opinion but a good thing nonetheless."
SO WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?
"It means that according to Vimes in this particular instance you're on the fence and he doesn't like that. He also hates people who kill innocents. That was probably what set him off."
OH…
"But what I'm interested in is motive," said Vetinari slowly with more than a hint of a threat. "Watch what you say."
MY GRANDDAUGHTER WANTS TO GIVE ME SOMETHING, BUT IT WOULD REQUIRE HER TO GIVE UP A PORTION OF HER LIFE. I CANNOT TAKE THAT TIME AWAY FROM HER.
Vetinari glared at him. His eyes were ice cold. He stood up and donned his role as Lord Vetinari Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. He put on his blank mask of office that revealed nothing.
"You tread on unsteady ground. Continue."
IT TOOK ME A LONG TIME TO FIND A REPLACEMENT.
Lord Vetinari stepped forward with the air of a tightly coiled snake. Death stood to his full height.
YOU CANNOT INTIMIDATE ME.
"Neither can you me."
THERE IS NO ONE WHO DOESN'T FEAR ME.
"Your granddaughter."
YOU ARE NOT SUSAN. YOU ARE AFRAID.
"I only fear the death I cannot choose. You would not kill again."
Lord Vetinari stared at him with eyes that had seen oblivion. Death saw himself reflected in those eyes.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE WHAT I TOOK FROM HER?
Death produced the same glass object that he had shown to Vimes. It looked like a lifetimer but didn't have the pinch in the middle that would separate the top and the bottom. The burning sand thrashed violently.
"Who was she?" asked Vetinari coolly.
MANY PEOPLE DIE IN YOU CITY, MR. VETINARI, BUT FEW CREATE A LASTING IMPRESSION. DO YOU REMEMBER DOLLY SISTERS?
"Put that away!"
Vetinari put his fist through a wall
YOU'RE ANGRY.
"Yes, now I'm angry!"
YOU'RE SAYING WHAT I DID WAS WRONG
"Yes it was bloody wrong! Why the hell did you only take ten minutes!?"
I… WHAT?
"That girl suffered for hours! They kept her alive just to hear her scream! They were torturing her and you only took ten minutes! You watched them murder her slowly! You listened as she begged for your peace and you did nothing! You knew what was happening! You could have taken away every last second of her suffering, but you didn't!"
PAIN IS PART OF LIFE.
Vetinari grabbed the front of Death's robes and forced him against the wall but he phased through it causing Vetinari's two fists to break the plaster. The Patrician charged into the next room. Death lay on the floor dazed. Two wizards looked up at Vetinari's manic expression and screamed. They fought each other to be the first out the opposite door. He could hear them shouting down the hall that the Patrician killed Death but he took no notice.
He pinned Death to the ground and grasped his spine below his chin.
"I may not be able to strangle you, but you don't need to be breathing for me to snap your neck!"
I DON'T UNDERSTAND.
"People like her die every day, people who have been praying for you to take them for hours, days, and even years yet you do nothing! You leave the burden of decision on men like me and Vimes. When I kill out of mercy I take a risk. I can't know if they might recover from their wounds or if they will even be thankful for the life I let them have if I didn't kill them. I can't know if they can be saved or not, but you can!"
Vetinari shifted his hands for better leverage and strained against the morphic field that held Death's bones together.
"You've had that power all along and this is the first time you bothered to use it!"
Death's neck sparked and popped as the bones were forced apart.
"You are the only person on the disc who can help them die and you choose not to!"
Vetinari twisted the bones. He stretched the field to the brink of collapse.
"You know if someone will continue to suffer until death, but you won't take their life! You just stand there! You've been standing there since the beginning of time!"
Death's neck snapped. The sound echoed off the walls of the room and collided with the very essence of the space. Time crumbled in on itself, twisted and distorted.
The drastically unnatural warp did not go unnoticed.
Lobsang Ludd appeared. He sized up the situation and came to the conclusion that this was another one of Death's little 'outings'.
"Grandfather, what the hell are you doing? This isn't helping you fix your problem with Susan."
I UNDERSTAND NOW, TIME, said Death's decapitated scull. The blue points of light in his eyes had faded. SUSAN WAS RIGHT TO BE ANGRY.
"You're Jeremy, the clockmaker?" asked Vetinari.
"No… well yes, just shut up," said Lobsang. Vetinari was not accustomed to being so easily dismissed.
I'M SORRY, TIME. I DIDN'T THINK. I NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED IF MR. VETINARI HADN'T POINTED IT OUT TO ME.
"Don't call me that. I'm your grandson now."
"You're Time's grandfather?" Vetinari looked down at Death's skull and raised an eyebrow.
"In-law, now shut it!" said Lobsang irritably.
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? I'VE ALREADY COLLECTED THE GIRL'S SOUL. I CAN'T DO IT TWICE.
Lobsang sighed. "Pull yourself together at least."
WHAT'S THE POINT?
"If you disappear then Susan will have lost her grandfather."
GOOD POINT.
Death's body grabbed his head and clicked it into place atop his spinal column. He sighed and just lay back down.
"Now tell me what this is all this about?" said Lobsang irritably. "You usually don't poke holes in reality without a good reason."
I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.
Lobsang sighed. "Fine then," he turned to Vetinari, "what happened?"
"He took time away from an innocent girl. She was suffering."
"Why did you have to go and snap his neck over that? You're a tyrant! Don't you do that sort of thing all the time? You know what? Don't answer that. Grandfather, give me the time. You were probably going to ask me to take it anyway."
I DIDN'T KNOW HOW ELSE TO DO IT. IT CAN'T BE USED IN THIS STATE.
Death handed over the glass container. He looked at it with disgust and resigned comprehension.
"You really thought this through didn't you?" he said softly.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Vetinari skeptically.
Lobsang punched Vetinari in the gut. He felt the pain but didn't see the movement.
"That was for attacking my grandfather, but also to illustrate a point. The exact moment I hit you gave you the most pain. Right now it doesn't hurt that much. What Grandfather did was take away six-hundred separate seconds over the span of two hours. Each grain of sand contains a single instance of excruciating agony. He took the very least he could and saved her from the most pain possible. If I gave this to Pestilence then he would have a jolly holiday with it."
Vetinari stared at Death incredulously. He was still lying on the floor.
I COULDN'T TAKE ALL OF IT. HER DEATH WAS IMPORTANT. YOU REMEMBER, MR. VETINARI.
He did remember. Because she died, Commander Vimes upturned the entire city looking for her murderers. Because she died, an unsanctioned criminal organization had been brought to justice. The whole of Ankh-Morpork benefited from her death.
"I do."
SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE NEEDED TO DIE. I WANTED TO SAVE HER, TO LET HER HAVE THE LIFE SHE DESERVED. I WANTED TO INTERFERE AND STOP HER FROM DYING, BUT I COULDN'T. I DO NOT HAVE THE POWER TO GIVE LIFE. ALL I CAN DO IS TAKE LIFE. I'VE NEVER KILLED A PERSON BEFORE. I DIDN'T THINK I COULD DO IT, BUT I AM DEATH. I CAN CAUSE DEATH BUT I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT SKILL AS A GOOD THING.
ALL THIS TIME, I HAVE BEEN SKIPPING OVER CHANCES TO HELP PEOPLE IN A WAY THAT ONLY I HAVE THE AUTHORITY TO DO. I COULD HAVE BEEN TAKING TIME FROM PEOPLE ALL ALONG AND I DIDN'T. THERE WERE SO MANY WHO BEGGED ME TO TAKE THEIR LIVES AND I LET THEM SUFFER. I WAITED FOR THEM.
I AM DEATH. ONLY I HAVE THE AUTHORITY TO KILL, YET I HAVE BEEN LETTING MURDERERS AND THUGS MAKE THE DECISIONS FOR THEIR VICTIMS. I CANNOT GIVE LIFE, BUT I SURE AS HELL AM NOT GOING TO LET VERMIN DECIDE WHEN A PERSON IS TO DIE.
Death rose from the floor and stood tall.
THIS IS YOUR FAULT GRANDSON, YOU AND YOUR STUPID TROUSERS.
Lobsang rolled his eyes.
"Regardless of whether your actions were right, wrong, or somewhere between, these minutes are volatile. I need to filter them without actually using the time."
"I know one thing that will help," said Vetinari.
He left the room. Time distorted and he returned immediately. He was holding a few leaves of paper. He thumbed through the pages and separated some from the rest. He gave them to Death who examined them closely as if they would suddenly not be what he thought they were.
UM…
"Yes?"
I DON'T THINK THIS WILL HELP MUCH.
Lobsang took a look at the papers and smiled.
"It's a better idea than I had in mind. You should try it."
BUT I DON'T SING.
"Is there not such a thing as a swan song?" said Vetinari. "Can you do baritone?"
UM, I DON'T THINK…
Death looked at his grandson pleadingly. Lobsang shrugged and waved his hand in a vague gesture.
"Music can have a serious impact on people. If you choose to sing then even I won't know what will happen."
YOU'RE NOT WEARING THE TROUSERS OF TIME ARE YOU?
"I only wear those on certain occasions. It's like you and your sword."
Death stared at the sheet music inquisitively.
IT HAS NO WORDS?
"Words complicate things." Vetinari said.
Death stood and somehow managed to clear his throat. He paused for a moment before he started to sing. The notes resonated with the uncountable souls that Death had come to since the beginning. The chorus of the dead filled the room with an ancient wind. Suddenly Death stopped and the magic drifted away.
AM I SUPPOSED TO SING THIS PART TOO? He proffered the paper to Lobsang.
"You're singing bass and no that's the tenor part. I thought you would be good at music."
I CAN READ IT BUT I NEVER REALLY UNDERSTOOD THE APPEAL.
Lobsang sighed. "Give me that." He glanced through the composition happily. He handed Vetinari a few sheets.
"What makes you think I can sing?" asked Vetinari.
"You're good at math and I'm almost certain this is your handwriting."
Vetinari flashed a frustratingly ambiguous smile. Death started the song from the top. The sounds of billions of voices came together to form each note. His voice echoed in oblivion. Time joined his grandfather in a celestial chord that made Vetinari's bones vibrate. It had been a long time since he had felt so small. Flanked by the preternatural cadence of Death and Time, Havelock was overwhelmed. He looked down at the lifetimer on the floor. The sand phased through the glass and orbited around outside it in wide circles but a force still kept them bound to the wicked flames trapped inside.
Havelock closed his eyes. He did not need the sheet music as he had seen it many times before. His mind blocked out the presence of the supernatural as only a human could. He convinced himself to only see the sand and only hear the beat. Alone in a world only the insane and the politically inclined can create, Havelock sang. Each note made solely for the sand and nothing else. His voice was nothing special and some of the higher notes were strained, but still he sang.
He remembered that night, when the little goblin girl reminded him that he had a heart. He sang to the sand, not what she had said through song, but rather what he felt when he heard it. Havelock delicately and intuitively steered the song from its original composition into one that reflected his own experience.
The sand was drawn to him, but couldn't reach. Each grain pulled at the bindings, but none of them were strong enough to break the painful strings tethering them to the livid fire trapped in the bottle.
Havelock held out a hand to touch one, but it shied away. Each grain of time wanted desperately to reach him but constantly avoided his hands. They did not want his help.
Havelock sat back and changed the tone of the song. It was lighthearted and almost militaristic. He thought of the Glorious Twenty-Fifth of May and how the men continued to fight together even after their leader had died. His voice softened as he recalled how right it felt to fight alongside them. He sang of the lasting memory of the men who died and how the living still love them. Each note reflected a piece of human emotion that Havelock had not allowed to pass through his skin but had felt inside nonetheless.
The sand heard him. The scattered grains joined together. They pushed each other farther out, and though the fire still bound them, they rallied behind one another and stretched the tether to the limit.
A single grain of sand snapped free followed by another that had been directly behind it. The force of the broken tension shot the sand past Havelock like a crossbow bolt.
He thought of when he had given Moist von Lipwig a second chance and how a conman can change his ways. He sang of the silent pride he felt when he watched him fly. He remembered Captain Vimes the drunkard who lived his life trying not to exist until he found a reason to live. He told the sand about Vimes' devotion to his son and wife and how he envied them.
The two grains of sand returned to the others. They pushed the sand that was still bound even though they risked being reclaimed by the tendrils of fire. More sand escaped and joined the backup. A grain of sand that had once been free was claimed by the fire but the sand was getting away faster than the flames could grab hold of them. Soon they were all free of the fire's influence. They fled to Havelock. He let them touch him and flow over his face and arms.
He continued to sing as his constructed world faded away. He sang of how much his city meant to him. He sang of his plans and the joy it gave him to think of the future. He collected the sand and held it gently in his hands.
The song ended. There had been no words, but the message was clear nonetheless.
"I want to keep her," said Havelock.
YOU CAN'T HAVE HER IN THIS STATE. SHE HAS NO BODY AND HER SOUL HAS ALREADY BEEN REAPED. YOU WOULD HAVE TO MAKE HER POSSESS ANOTHER PERSON'S BODY AND I WON'T LET YOU DO THAT.
"She's only ten minutes old right now. She can't survive like this."
"I will keep her and you will help me."
"No! You can't do this! The best thing for her is to be used to make something in Death's Domain. At least there she can make a difference. If you keep her then she'll just fade away."
"I will give her a place to live. I will make it beautiful."
"Where? Where could you possibly put her? She's not even technically human right now."
"I will hold her inside of me. She will protect me and I her. I will love her."
EVEN IF YOU COULD SAVE HER SOMEHOW, IT CAN'T LAST. SHE'LL DISSIPATE AS SOON AS HER HOST BECOMES UNSTABLE.
"That will not happen."
HOW CAN YOU BE SO SURE?
"Because I have already done it." Vetinari scanned a bookcase. "It will be here."
And it was. On the bottom shelf was a small book next to a long abandoned mouse hole.
"Don't worry. I'll be there. The rats will take you to me. Try to smell like cheese."
Havelock gently let the sand slide into the pocket of the dust jacket and placed the book back on the shelf. The spine said 'Lacemaking.'
"She is stronger than she looks."
Lobsang turned time back on. The book disappeared into the past.
.
.
.
Who really knew what evil lurked in the hearts of men?
ME.
Who knew what sane men were capable of?
STILL ME, I'M AFRAID.
- Night Watch
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Connected to Bright Shadows