Vetinari ducked into a side alley and climbed quickly up a ladder. Hidden away on a part of the roof not visible from the street and usually reserved for pigeons, were the characteristic black clothes of an Assassin. He wasn't technically supposed to wear anything else, and certainly not while on an assignment, but the black stood out against the shadows much too well. Shrugging the clothes on, he dropped lightly back into the alley.

The Guild had been having problems for the last few months with a group of mysterious, apparently non-existent strangers who had been interfering with Guild business. Actually saving the marks from Assassins' blades. It was all a very romantic idea, but it was impractical. Who would actually bother? After all, if someone had made their way into the Guild's books, it meant they had upset someone with enough money to put them there, and that didn't bode for a long life anyhow.

That was the other thing. Most of the people that the new comers interfered with were low priority marks, not worth much at all in comparison. Take the soon to be priest that Vetinari had intended to inhume. He was worth practically nothing, only a couple hundred. That's why a student like Vetinari had been allowed to take the contract. And yet there had been someone there, waiting to save the man's life.

Up until then, Vetinari knew, no one had actually seen the mysterious interfering strangers. But that girl – Ienska Tineshan she'd called herself – had definitely been one of them. She was young though, perhaps even younger than Vetinari's own seventeen years. So perhaps she was only a student as well? But a student of what? Of the anti-Assassins? Somehow, that didn't sound right. But, then, none of it did.

***

Ienska hated Assassins. The idea of taking someone's money to kill someone set her blood boiling. If you were going to kill, it should at least be for decent reasons like self defense or revenge, not money, never money. And never from behind.

She did, however, have to grudgingly admire the young Assassin she'd met earlier that day. He had, if nothing else, style. The man he'd been sent to kill had been walking through a busy street in broad daylight. There was no doubt in Ienska's mind that, had she not managed to distract him, Vetinari would have been able to kill him. It was something about the way he carried himself.

And he hadn't been wearing black. The boy was smart, she'd give him that. Assassins seemed to have a blind spot when it came to black. They thought it blended in with the night, or that's what they said. Privately, Ienska thought they just liked it because they thought it looked dashing.

Despite the fact that he'd impressed her, Vetinari was lucky that Ienska was good at self restraint. It would have pleased her no end to deck him one. But he hadn't given her the chance, not really. He was too much of a gentleman. Which had annoyed her even more.

She'd beaten him anyhow. He had turned his back on the temple. She had barely been able to believe what she'd seen over his shoulder, as the intended mark was hurried through the golden doors.

But then, before he'd left, he'd made that comment about meeting again. She wasn't supposed to have met him the first time. Her Masters wouldn't be too pleased when word got back that the Assassins had seen her. And all because the fool had tripped over her feet!

***

Vetinari sat at his desk, finishing a report on the history of throwing daggers. He had had quite a long talk with Doctor Follett, the head of the Assassins' Guild. Or, rather, Doctor Follett had had quite a long talk with him. Either way, it had eaten up the rest of daylight so that Vetinari was forced to do the report by candle light.

For some reason he wasn't quite sure of, he hadn't told Follett about the girl. He'd simply said that there had been interference. Follett hadn't liked that. Vetinari smiled down at his paper.

***

She had been very busy all week, what with one thing and another. When the Masters had told them that Ankh-Morpork wouldn't be an easy gig, they had been serious. Ienska alone had already had to stop five assassinations, two potential street brawls, seven muggings, and no less than thirteen incidental murders.* She'd even had to draw steel once. And that was just her, the others had been just as busy, she was sure.
[* Or what the local authorities referred to as suicides. Such as making derogatory comments about trolls while walking down Quarry Lane or mentioning that the ale seemed a little too watery.]

Now she was creeping across the roofs of Ankh-Morpork to save the life of a butcher who had angered a prominent family by refusing to kill a cow. Something about an ownership dispute. Regardless, it was her job to stop the Assassin that was supposed to be coming for him that night.

She crouched down outside a window. It was open, swinging gently in the night air. What sort of idiot leaves his window open when the Assassins are after him? Not that a closed window really made much difference to an Assassin, but it was the principle of the thing after all. At least if you closed it they had to do a little work to get in…she squinted at the window.

There were scratch marks by where the clasp would be if it were closed. She swore silently, melted into the shadows and climbed soundlessly into the room.

***

Vetinari took a last glance around the spartan space. There was no sign of struggle, nothing that needed to be tidied up. It had been a very clean job and he was rather proud of it. He double checked the note that he had left beside the late butcher. It seemed right, all the information was there: who had commissioned the job, the price that had been paid, and his own signature.

Nodding in satisfaction he turned to exit through the still open window. And slammed into a figure that had approached silently through the darkness, sending it sprawling on the apartment floor. He frowned, very few people could sneak up on him.

Some instinct, bred into him after generations of courtly blood, sent his hand reaching into the gloom to help the figure to its feet. As its face came into the gentle street glow that filtered through the window, he recognized the features.

"Tineshan, I believe?" he said.

"Yes," she sighed. "I'm too late?"

"Quite," he said, noticing how her eyes shone when she glanced at the corpse lying on the bed. "I believe this evens the score."

She looked at him, opened her mouth as if to say something but then shook her head in disgust instead. Wordlessly, she turned and climbed back out of the window.

***

Score. He kept score. With human life.

Ienska shivered in the warm night air.

***

Vetinari watched her climb out the window, very careful not to blink as she stepped out into the shadows and – disappeared. It wasn't that she blended in with shadows or even stopped moving.

Cautiously, he climbed out and made a thorough search of the rooftop. She was just gone.

Which meant one of two things. Either she knew some magic, or she was very, very good at the game that Vetinari had played his whole life. The game where being seen meant death and moving unnoticed meant victory.

He stared into the gloom, calculating.