[A/N: This chapter contains a comparison table. It was originally formatted in two columns, but does not like this no matter what I do, so it's more of a list now. It also doesn't like strike-through. Drumknott is annoyed as well, but hopefully it's still reasonably clear. Eyes: I know what you mean, I hate character death too; I never imagined myself writing one! But the evil plot bunny wouldn't let me go.]

Chapter 4

Sacharissa wasted no time in coming straight to the point.

"William, why aren't you letting them print yet? This is the biggest story we've ever had!"

"Sacharissa!"

"Sorry. But still. What are you stalling for?"

"I told you, I'm waiting for Commander Vimes to confirm – " There weren't many people who could cut you off with a mere look, but Sacharissa was surely one of them.

"Don't give me that," she added, when he replied with silence, "You're stalling because you don't want to print that Lord Vetinari died trying to save his secretary." He was slightly taken aback.

"Is it that obvious?"

"William," she began, exasperated, "You told me yourself you can't lie. What on the Disc are you trying it on me for? Besides, you wouldn't have two versions of the story made up if it weren't that the truth was the impossible one."

"It is impossible," he muttered, "Nobody will believe it."

"Several people believed the Inquirer when it said that the King of Quirm liked to receive foreign dignitaries whilst sitting in a bath of snake milk," Sacharissa pointed out, "And he's allergic to dairy."

"Also," William had to point out, "Snakes don't make milk." There was that look again.

"You have to print it," she pointed out, "I mean, I know people are going to be shocked, but it's hardly more shocking than the Patrician unexpectedly dying in a fire. I mean, it's not like it's something really awful, is it? I think it's quite sweet, really."

"Sweet?" William spluttered, "Did you just call Lord Vetinari sweet?'"

"I did not!" she protested, primly, albeit with a suspicious pink tint to her cheeks, "I said what he did was sweet."

"And yet you don't see what's wrong with that sentence? This is Lord Vetinari we're talking about! Think what people are going to say! Think of what it'll do to his reputation!"

"I would think that his reputation is the last thing that concerns him now," she pointed out, quite reasonably, "And I'm sure most people will agree with me. He did a good thing, William, or he tried to, anyway. What's wrong with saying so? If anything, doesn't he deserve for people to think of him as a little kinder than the tyrant they so often saw portrayed? To see him as just a little bit human?"

"Is it?" William asked bitterly, "Besides, you don't know what the aristocracy are like. There's a phrase for the effect this news is going to produce: character assassination."

"Do you really think…?" Sacharissa began, uncertainly, then looked a little dismayed, and slightly disgusted, as if she had opened a friend's cupboard to discover it a rime of dirt all around the edge. "They would, wouldn't they?"

"Count on it."

"I still think most people – most decent people – would…react a little more appropriately." William shrugged helplessly.

"Maybe." Sacharissa was unusually silent, her expression thoughtful.

"He never said anything, you know," William said suddenly, savagely.

"Pardon?"

"About my father. He must have known. He must have figured it out. It must have been obvious from the way he left town in such a hurry. But he never said anything to me, and he never did anything either. No last minute arrest. No quiet assassination. No mysterious 'accident' on the way to Genua. Nothing. And I knew he'd have that over me for the rest of my life, but he never said anything more about it. He never did anything."

"I know, William," Sacharissa said. She came and sat down on the floor next to him, and took his hand quietly. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

/

Lost in Books of Time, and Memory, and Chance, Drumknott single-mindedly pursued his researches. It was far harder than he had ever imagined it to be, and he had imagined it to be far harder than he could imagine. Possible futures multiplied at every step, possible histories….numbers added and taken away again; to find and tally the precious definites was like counting grains of sand in your hand before it ran through your fingers…before it slipped, grain by grain, through the hourglass….

Initially, he had done his researches secretively. It was hard to believe that Death didn't know what he was getting up to in his 'spare time' (yet another fluid concept that grated on the mortal subconscious), but Drumknott chose to believe that as long as he completed a suitable amount of proper work, and wasn't too blatant in his snooping, Death didn't particularly care what he did.

Soon, though, he had got so engrossed in what he was doing that he no longer bothered to be discreet about it, no longer cared how long it took him. In a realm where Time stood still, and in an unreal body that made no corporeal demands upon him, it was easy to lose yourself, and just never stop…Before his eyes, futures fissioned; lives flaring in one moment and dying in the next, like sparks from a fire…drawn in, he chased the elusive numbers, the numbers that described reality, or at least, one small part of it….

/

Death stood at the border of his realm, where a fuzzy, fizzing line demarked the crackling energies of Time, Space and Energy having an argument over who was there first. A slim figure leaned against the fence, a small smile playing about its lips.

YOU ARE STILL HERE, Death noted. He wasn't surprised, as such; very little in this existence surprised him. Nevertheless, in mortal terms, it had been a long time.

"Is there somewhere else I should be?" came the calm, almost amused reply.

SEVERAL SOMEWHERE ELSES, OR NONE AT ALL, DEPENDING ON HOW YOU LOOK AT IT, Death pointed out.

"Yes, I can see how this has…complicated matters. It seems churlish to labour the point we earlier discussed, so instead I will gently remind you that this was only half my idea." Death made no reply. The same sparking energies that flickered at the borders of reality occasionally danced about the man's figure like so many personal fireworks. Death was aware that whilst this state of limbo could, theoretically, continue forever, it also couldn't carry on. He was also aware that whilst the man couldn't possibly begin to comprehend what this meant, he nevertheless seemed to have grasped the essentials with admirable perspicacity. He also appeared to have found a way to manipulate those energies just sufficiently to watch the little realm that he had once ruled, albeit in a very limited fashion. Death peered a little more closely. No, it wasn't even that he was controlling them, as such; it was just that seemed to have found it personally convenient to coincidentally do what he wanted whilst doing what they thought was what they wanted.

INTERESTING.

It was his companion's turn for silence this time; the man continued to gaze at a small, insignificant piece of another reality. Death couldn't quite fathom what was so fascinating about the city, himself, any more than any other city, but then, he supposed, for him even Home was a relative term.

YOUR SECRETARY LOSES HIMSELF IN THE BOOKS OF KNOWLEDGE.

"Indeed."

YOU CANNOT WAIT FOREVER.

"I think that is a question which not even you can be certain of."

HE WILL FAIL.

"I'm counting on it," Vetinari replied. He still sounded happy.

INDEED, Death echoed.

/

Dragged out of his researches by the queasy smell of Albert's cooking, Drumknott had frantically remembered that he had work to do, and then had to spend what was, in any reality, ages, going through the hellish task of doing the Temporal Adjustment Calculations (7) on all of Death's Mortality Receipts, after which he decided he that that was quite enough for today, thank you. He still wasn't quite sure why he was doing this, except that it so plainly needed doing. And Vetinari must have gone to some trouble to get him this…job. Although, really, he should have got something back for it. It wasn't like he was getting paid, after all. Now there was an interesting (not to mention alarming) thought. But it did little to help him in his current dilemma, re: did he want to spend eternity (or even any significant fraction thereof) being Death's Clerk. It wasn't that Death was a bad boss. He was actually quite surprisingly all right (8), and always willing to listen to his advice, which was good. But it just wasn't the same. More than that, he was beginning to realise his quest to find a number to take to Lord Vetinari was, if not a hopeless task, at least an endless one. He was back at square one, not knowing what to do, or how to do it; only knowing that he wasn't happy with things as they were.

He determined to analyse the situation rationally, and set about making a thorough comparison table, divided into two columns. After carefully noting everything down, he ended up with:

(1) Lord Vetinari: Tall, thin, long black cloak, piercing blue eyes, etc. Death: Tall, thin, long black cloak, piercing eyes, etc.

(2) V: Makes no sound when he walks. D: Frequently rattles in disconcerting fashion.

(3) V: Very good with exceedingly sharp blades. D: ditto.

(4) V: Had to put up with Vimes. D: Have to put up with Albert.

(5) V: Paid decent salary. D: No salary, except possibly not being completely dead?

(6) V: Unreasonable hours. D: Unreasonable hours, but no actual passage of time. He paused a moment then amended that to: D: Unreasonable hours.

(7) V: Odd sense of humour. D: Odd sense of everything.

(8) V: Had dog with silly name. D: Has horse with silly name

(9) V: Former deadly assassin. D: Has not killed anyone (technically).

(10) V: Ruled greatest city on Disc. D: Rules nothing but is ruled by nothing.

(11) V: Has dim view of humanity. D: Actually seems quite fond of humans.

(12) V: Very good with paperwork. D: Cannot even keep paperwork on same temporal plane.

(13) V: Is (technically) dead. D: Is Death.

Carefully, he pencilled in his last point:

(14) V: Controlled most things, within AM. D: Controls…what?

He stared at it for a very long time. A lot of things were beginning to become clear. He was going to see Death…but first perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take a look at what was happening in Ankh-Morpork, in one of those books…

(7). Because of Quantum. And inflation.

(8). Coincidentally, exactly what he said to his mother when he first started to work for Lord Vetinari.