Now why exactly had he said that? It was true, of course, but that didn't explain why he'd felt the need to say it out loud. He shook his head as he leapt over onto the next roof. Stranger things had happened, he supposed. He tried very hard to remember one.

It wasn't that Vetinari never paid anyone compliments – and he did consider what he'd said a compliment, a very large compliment. It was that he never paid anyone compliments without a reason. Compliments were like gold. You hoarded them until there was something you wanted or needed, and then you spent them as was required. There had been nothing about the situation that required a compliment.

Ah well, he'd have to consider the matter later. Right now he was late for his etiquette class.*
[* Assassins are, after all, gentlemen of good standing and are expected to know which spoon is appropriate for custard as well as which dagger is appropriate for an elderly gentleman wearing silk.]

That was something else. Vetinari was never late. He had known, when the clocks were about half way through striking four, that it was time for him to go. And yet he had stayed on that ridiculous roof for another half an hour. Admittedly, it had been quite comfortable, but that didn't explain his uncharacteristic behavior.

It was almost as if…but, no, that was ridiculous. Still, he would have to pay a visit to the Book Master of the Assassin's Guild the next day and see if he couldn't get a Writ of Exemption for Ienska. As he had said, she was one of the most interesting people he'd ever met, it would be a shame to find a commission on her head.

***

The next day, Ienska found herself on the roof again. Given the alternatives, which mostly involved walking through dirty streets among filthy people, it wasn't really surprising. Besides, she walked every day.

She wasn't the least bit surprised when Vetinari showed up again.

"Good morning, Ienska," he said.

"You've decided to take full advantage of the fact I told you that you don't have to leave, haven't you?" she said. "I thought you had other roofs?" She paused. "And good morning to you too," she sighed. It was impossible. Here she was, trying to stand by her beliefs, and he kept coming back and dissecting them one by one.

He sat down, comfortably but not the sprawl he'd affected the day before. "Lovely day, isn't it?" he asked.

Ienska raised her eyebrows and looked out at the early morning air. It was worse than the late night air and, at the very least, thicker than the afternoon air.* There seemed to be some sort of smell wafting up from the docks. "Are you all right?" she asked.
[* This is because the fog of Ankh-Morpork has some very interesting qualities. Including a semi-solid state that lasts well into the mid-morning. Incidentally, there is an insect – known as a fog sitter – that has developed a sort of symbioses with the fog. During the night and early morning, the fog sitter, which is flightless, crawls across from building to building on the tendrils that wisp up to the higher levels of the streets. No fog sitter has touched the ground in fifty generations.]

He frowned. "Not really. But it doesn't matter." He looked around. "Do you spend all of your free time up here, then?"

Ienska shrugged. "Most of it. I'll probably be here until tomorrow morning, anyhow."

"What, without leaving at all?" asked Vetinari.

"Well," said Ienska delicately, cheeks coloring slightly. "I might leave once or twice, but not for long, no."

"Of course," he said, sounding embarrassed. "Do you always spend your night on rooftops?"

"The air's cleaner. Besides, I go back on duty tomorrow," she said. "Why are you so curious all of the sudden?"

Vetinari shrugged. "What exactly is your duty?" he asked.

Ienska looked him straight in the eye, she'd been dreading that question. Especially since she didn't seem to be able to lie to him. Which annoyed her. There was a moment's pause, but Vetinari didn't seem to notice. "Mostly stopping you, lately," she said at last.

"Not always," he said.

Ienska's throat tightened. "No, not always," she said very softly. He watched her as she fought back tears, an odd expression on his face. She'd seen the ones he had managed to kill…oh, so sorry, inhume. She hated that word. It made the whole business seem somehow acceptable, civilized.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

She shrugged, furious with herself. "Yeah, sure. Tell the corpses," she said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Vetinari said. "I'm not sorry about inhuming them, that's my job." She looked at him, eyes still a little blurry. He had a very…intense? yes, that seemed to be the right word…expression on his face. "I'm sorry I upset you. I should have known better."

"Why should you care?" Ienska asked, rather sharply. "Why do you keep coming back, for that matter? What did I ever do to make you think I wanted to talk with you?"

"Nothing," he said. But he didn't move. "And I don't know why I care or why I keep coming back, and I don't think it really matters. All I said was 'I'm sorry,' and that's all I meant to say."

"Right," said Ienska, regaining her composure. "And I'm sorry as well, I had no right to behave like that…" What on the Disc am I saying? She was treating him like…well, like a friend. This was not right. She should not feel at all comfortable with him, she should not be sitting with him on a roof discussing the weather and recent assassinations they had both attended. They should be fighting to the death, that was how it was supposed to work. That's what the Masters said should happen. And it wasn't happening, she was very, very sure it wasn't happening.

She was less sure what actually was happening.