Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, setting, or anything in this story. All rights go to Terry Pratchett and his publishers.

The thief reached down through the window and grinned at his prize lying on the bedside-table below him. He could hear his victims heavy snoring from inside the room.

The pouch of money was so close…

The boy wrapped his knees over the edge and lowered himself slowly head first into the room, curling his body out silently to reach the booty. He took his forged guild receipt from his pocket and readied to lay it on the floor, grasping it tightly in one hand he reached out with the other.  

He strained to grasp at the little bag, and let out a small squeak of desperation. The figure in the bed beside the table gave a snort and flung out a hand in sleep. He gave a frantic swing and only just avoided the man. Frowning with concentration a drop of sweat fell to the floor. He groaned, the blood ran to his head and blurred his vision.

Just a little further… allowing his knees to loosen their grip the lightest amount he slipped forward and felt his fingers curl around the pouch, sighing in relief. Got it!

~~~

Vimes stared into the black abyss patiently, as he floated around in sub-space.

At first it had been terrifying. Now it was getting boring, Vimes thought blandly, as he flipped absently onto his back.

SQUEAK.

"What the-?"

A little skeletal rat emerged from his trouser pocket.

"Alright ratty-"

SQUEAK!

"-what do I do now?" He glared at the head that protruded form his pocket, wondering how on earth he hadn't come to notice the bulge before. The rat waved a bony paw vaguely.

SQUEAK.

"Wait? What, just keep floating?" Vimes moved his arm to scratch his head and was swung off balance, being forced to perform a ridiculous twirl in mid-air. "Don't I get to choose who I…" Vimes pulled a face. "Possess?"

SQUEAK.

"No? Why not?" He demanded.

SQUEAK.

"I'm not like that!"

SQUEAK.

"I don't care if it was just a damned example! Don't suggest stuff like that, bone bag."

SQUEAK!

Vimes sighed. "Alright, so it's just how it works. Fine. I get it."

He grabbed the rat form his pocket and held it in the palm of his hand, flapping with the other arm until he was at what could be a standing position. His hair wasn't sticking up any more, so he wasn't upside down at least. It had taken him a while to discover the dimensions as with no shadows to rely on he simply had to wait until he thought the blood was running to his head.

"So why are you here?"

SQUEAK.

"I don't damn well need looking after!" Vimes said indignantly.  "I'm Commander of the… well… kind of…" He trailed off.

SQUEAK.

"Being killed does not count as being careless!" Vimes snapped.

"What the…?"

 A strange numbing sensation began. It was like someone placed mufflers on his ears. He felt his limbs slowing. His vision began to blur. Then as if someone had pulled the plug hole on reality, he began to fall.

"Aaaaaaaaaa-"

~~~~

"-aaargh!"

Vimes opened his eyes and stared with horror at his world. Everything was upside down!

With a burst of panic he straightened his legs to run.

Narrowly missing the table he fell head first into the room and landed with a soft bounce onto the bed, only to be very quickly overwhelmed with a swamp of covers.

Rolling instinctively he fell in a heap onto the floor.

"Ronnie! Ronnie! Get him Ronnie!"

"This is the last straw!"

Rough hands grabbed at him and he was hauled to his feet, blinking with wide eyed surprise at the scene that met his eyes.

Lord Rust stood in front of him, bristling with cold anger. He was wearing a long white night shirt, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles. It would have been funny, if he wasn't feeling so confused. His wife clung to his arm and looked down at Vimes with horror.

Looked down.

Looked down.

Oh no…

Sam Vimes gulped and looked down at his body. He nearly fainted.

Where his hardened thin-soled Watch boots should have been, a pair of filthy big feet protruded from his ankles. Ragged torn trousers hung about his waist.

"I'm a street urchin?!" Vimes yelled, horrified.  

"Be quiet! I know exactly what you are!" Rust snapped.

Vimes twisted and stared at a large mirror on the table behind him. As he watched the eyes that stared back at him changed from an unfamiliar brown to his own dark greyish blue. A mud caked face stared back at him, short brown hair flopped over his eyes.

He was probably about 12 years old.

"Oh gods…"

"Guards! Guards!"

Half a dozen armed guards came rushing into the room. One grabbed Vimes and lifted him with ease. Sam struggled wildly as Rust looked at him with ocean deep disgust. A woman Vimes presumed to be his wife hastily wrapped sheets around her body and scrambled into a sitting position, hastily hooking blond hair behind her ears.

"Unlicensed thieving, eh?" The guard grinned evilly. "Shall I hand him over to the Thieves Guild?"

Vimes growled, "No you idiot! Let me go!"

Oh gods. It sounded more like squeaking he thought, as a high pitched whine escaped his mouth.   

Rust turned and walked behind a large screen in the corner of the room. His voice floated over the top.

"No. This is the last straw. I'll have Vimes's head for this. The idiot man thinks little crimes like this can be overlooked…" He emerged fully clothed. "Vetinari cannot allow this for much longer."

The Guards exchanged glances.

"Haven't you heard, sir?" Vimes caught a glance of Freddy Weever out of the corner of his eye.

Rust straightened from putting on his shoes and brushed the hair out of his eyes, giving the man an annoyed look. 

"What do you mean?"

"Why, Commander Vimes is dead, sir. Murdered last night on the rooftops." The urchin in the captains grip stopped struggling and gave a little predatory grin.

"Good riddance." Rust placed a hat carefully on his head. The boy gave a growl and scowled ferociously, lashing out helplessly with his legs.  

"Excellent. His successor should be willing to listen to my complaint. Come."

"Where are we going sir?"

"The Watch house." With that Rust stormed out of the room.  

Vetinari opened his eyes, and let them take in his surroundings.

Unlike Vimes he had infinite patience, and therefore lay quite still for a long time. He filed all of what he'd learnt, and his present experience.

The great cogs of his mind began to turn.

He sat up, and raised his eyebrows at the sight of his body.

How ironic.

Vetinari swung his legs nimbly off the side of the bed. He stood still for a moment, then sighed and went across to the wardrobe to search for a dress.