Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews, they really brighten up my days. And now, the final installment…
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Ienska was staring wide eyed around her room. Images of chains and dark corners full of skittering things kept superimposing themselves over her eyes. There was no way out. She raced over to the window again, looking desperately for some way to the ground that would, preferably, get her there in one or two pieces.
She had finally seen one of the invitations, framed and already hanging on Lady Vetinari's wall.
She turned to gaze around the room in horror again. Sarah had pulled an all-nighter the previous evening and now the wedding dress stood, white and threatening as a phantom, on a manikin in the middle of the room. Ienska shivered and looked away.
Her bag, already stuffed full of her things, was sitting in the middle of the huge bed and she was garbed once more in her comfortable tunic and boots.
Carefully, she stood on the window sill and leaned out, trying to see if there was something above the window she could grab hold of and use to shimmy over to the vines. When she was about as far out as she could go, a soft creaking reached her ears, followed by the tiny click of the bedroom door closing again. Very slowly, she ducked her head down so that she could see into the room without climbing back inside. She sighed with relief.
"It's about time you showed up," she said to Vetinari as he gave her an appraising look.
"Planning on flying over the walls?" he asked, going over and offering her a hand down, which he hastily pulled back at the intensity of her glare.
"If you haven't come up with something better, I might have to," she said, hopping down easily.
"Luckily, I don't think that will be necessarily, as much as I would like to see it," he said as he fished in his pocket. "Witrow is notoriously awful at Cripple Mr. Onion." He waved a key ring in front of her eyes.
"He bet the keys in a game of Cripple Mr. Onion?" Ienska asked, incredulous. "And your mother lets this man run her house?"
"Oh, no, he didn't lose the keys on a bet," said Vetinari, placing the ring back in his pocket.
"Then how…"
"I allowed him to win," said Vetinari. "A particularly fine bottle of Klatchian sand- whiskey. He was gurgling quite happily when we parted company." Ienska stared at him in disbelief for a moment before shaking her head. Did it really matter exactly which of the butler's vices Vetinari had played against? They had a way out.
"Let's go," she said, scooping the bag off the bed and rushing to the door.
Moments later, the gardens' silence was briefly interrupted by the oiled hiss of the gate swinging open and the soft clang of it shutting once more. There was a jingling sound as a ring of keys arced back over the walls and landed in a bird bath. On the road outside, a small cloud of dust followed the noise of hoof beats into the night.
***
Lady Vetinari hummed happily as she did a mental check of the wedding preparations.
Cake? Yes, Cook had seen to a particularly tall and majestic confection involving white and pale blue frosting that even now dominated the better half of the kitchens.
Dress? Sarah had done a splendid job of it! The end result put her in mind of a shining cloud descending to the Disc.
Rings? Witrow had them, two golden rings symbolizing endless happiness and devotion, each inlaid with a row of three diamonds.
Priest? She had sent to Ankh-Morpork for an all-purpose priest, willing to perform any ceremony. This particular priest had written an enchanting ode to love eternal and was currently rehearsing in the gardens.
That seemed to be everything, but there was a nagging feeling that something had slipped her mind. Whatever could it be?
"Your ladyship?" said Witrow, appearing in the drawing room.
"Yes, Witrow?" she said absently.
"The bride and bridegroom seem to have vanished, your ladyship." Ah, that was it. The children.
"Where do you suppose they have gotten to, Witrow?" she asked, frowning.
"I do not know, your ladyship," he said, his speech a tad slurred. "But there seems to be a set of horses missing from the stables."
"Ah," she said. "I imagine they have left, then."
"Yes, your ladyship."
"Everyone will be terribly disappointed, Witrow."
"Yes, your ladyship." The butler tried to conceal a hiccup. Lucky for him, Lady Vetinari was intent on her train of thought.
"Lots of people were planning on this," she continued.
"Yes, your ladyship."
"I imagine we put too much pressure on them, Witrow."
"Yes, your ladyship."
"Rushed them a little to quickly."
"Yes, your ladyship."
She sighed. "But it's all terribly romantic, isn't it?"
"Your ladyship?"
"I always thought it would be fun to elope."
"Yes, your ladyship," said Witrow, choosing not to express his private doubts on the matter.
"See that everyone goes home, won't you Witrow? And give them each a slice of cake for their trouble."
"Yes, your ladyship." And the butler was gone.
Lady Vetinari smiled and looked out the window, over the walls to the winding road that stretched out toward the rising sun. Somewhere out there, her son was enjoying himself, probably a great deal.
What a splendid story the whole affair would make to tell when her grandchildren came visiting.
She really did hope Havelock was enjoying himself.
END
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I really didn't intend for this to be a very long fic - certainly not longer that Assassin's Bane, but it seems to have taken on a life of its own, so thank you all for bearing with me and I hope you enjoyed it.