Chapter 5
Twist
~
"So what about official allowances of the Homiehood and everything?" twelve- year-old Havelock asked, pouring milk onto his chocolate cereal.
"How do you mean?" Downey was the only other one awake, and the two of them were enjoying an early breakfast of sugar products on the floor of the shed before Rust and Sybil emerged from hibernation.
"What should we be allowed to do to help out other members?"
"Oh, I don't know." Downey waved his hands and looked at a bird out of the window. "Maybe intervene when they're in trouble by any means we see fit."
"Sounds good to me." There was a brief silence, broken by a very loud slurping noise.
"What are you doing, Havelock?"
"Making a hurricane." Vetinari looked at his confused companion's face. "That was the wind and this -" he dumped spoonfuls of now-chocolate milk onto the stricken rice puffs "- is the rain. And all of the people are drowned."
"Gods save the Disc should you ever hold a position of power, Havelock."
~
When Frederick Rust awoke, the room was empty and the sunlight was slowly being sucked from the landscape. He stood up out of the chair, stretching as he did. A satisfying number of pops rippled up his back. Damn chair. He noticed the brief note, written in very feminine handwriting, on the chair opposite him. Why was he even here?
Oh, right. He'd been kidnapped and was being held hostage by the three richest people in Ankh-Morpork. And he was in the Patrician's vacant mansion. Well, that was alright. Somehow, he found, it was very hard to be upset when you've had a good nap, are safe from physical harm, and are looking at note telling you that there is food in the icebox.
So he made his way down the stairs and into the slightly-less-dust-ridden kitchen. There was and icebox there, and inside it offered milk, cheese, bologna, bread and celery. He wondered why there was celery. Perhaps Lord Vetinari was a vegetarian. Sybil certainly didn't eat celery and judging by the normal diet at the Assassins' Guild, celery wasn't a usual dish.
So he made himself a sandwich, sat down, and ate.
~
Lord Rust was furious. He sat in the coach, fuming, and watched the evening life of the Street of Alchemists go by. Of course, the evening life in the Street of Alchemists was never the same, depending on the state of the Guild that the street had been named after.
He was on his way to the palace. If Havelock wasn't involved in his son's disappearance, Caro had reasoned with him, than he most certainly would know where Frederick was. She had also reminded him not to throttle the man if he was involved in the whole scheme.
He recalled the events of the day. Downey had left after Caro had assured him that she was fine, and Rust had stormed off to the conservatory. After fuming for several minutes, he decided that it was time to have Words with the boy, and had bellowed for him. Getting no response, he sent one of the servants for him. The butler had reported back that Frederick was not in the house and had not been seen leaving the property.
He'd gotten very angry. That was really all he could remember, until Caro had been reasoning with him about not killing Havelock.
The footman opened the door to the coach, and pulled the stairs out. Rust exited, trying to look collected, but knowing he merely looked like an enraged person trying to control himself. He half-stormed, half-ran up to the Oval Office, which Commander Vimes was just exiting.
"Vimes!" he snapped, catching the Commander's attention. Vimes granted him a glance that said, to Rust, 'I'm gutter trash that fell into extreme wealth and fortune but still refuse to pay any attention to my superiors.' The fact that Rust was inferior in rank to Vimes was ignored. "I would like to report a kidnapping."
"I must re-direct you to the people at the Yard, I'm afraid," Vimes said, lighting a cigar. "They will take care of complaints."
"This is not a bloody complaint! My son has disappeared!"
"The Patrician sets up national holidays, I'm afraid," Vimes replied without any emotion. He gave Rust a curt nod and left.
Rust, enraged, stormed into the Oblong Office. It was empty. "HAVELOCK!" he bellowed, without any obvious thoughts to the consequences of using the Patrician's first name and, moreover, yelling it. Drumknott, who had been reaching for the doorknob, had serious second thoughts on the importance of the papers he was holding and fled.
Rust tensed, expecting the man to materialize out of a shadow. But nothing came forward, leaving Rust both very angry and very confused. He looked around himself, but the office was empty. He went behind the desk, looked under it, was viciously attacked by a ball of white fluff, and fled. He heard the thump as the deranged dog ran headlong into the oak door. Drumknott gave the being before him a frightened look.
"Where is Lord Vetinari?" Rust demanded.
"I really don't know sir, though he did just have a meeting with Commander Vimes. Perhaps you could wait in the waiting room?" Rust glared at the secretary. He was damned if he was going to sit in a waiting room. Nobles didn't wait. "Or the Rats' Chamber would be acceptable, I'm sure." Rust gave the clerk a curt nod, and stormed off. Drumknott sagged and entered the empty office, where he was promptly molested by Wuffles.
~
"Daddy!" Sam Jr. slammed headlong into his father's thighs when Vimes entered the Ramkin mansion.
"Hello," Vimes said, patting his offspring on the head. "Could you let go of my legs please?"
"No," was the muffled reply.
"Sam."
"Daddy."
"Let go of Daddy's legs now."
"No."
"Sybil! Help!"
Lady Sybil swept around the corner into the foyer and stifled a grin as she saw why her husband had sounded so distressed. "It's because he loves you, you know," she told Vimes as she pried Sam off of him. The toddler waved at his parents.
"I had a sandwich for lunch today, you know," he told his father. "The bananananas fell out and onto the floor." He grinned smugly. "I hid them."
"And where did you hide your bananas?" Sybil asked sternly, putting the child on the floor.
"Somewhere."
"Well, you may not have supper until you bring your banana slices back down to us." The toddler grinned and nodded. "All of them," she added. Sam ran off, slightly less enthusiastic than he had been. "So how was your meeting with Havelock?" she asked, pecking her husband. Vimes tensed slightly, not being an openly affectionate sort of person.
"Fine," he said, suddenly suspicious. "But Lord Rust reported that his son has been kidnapped and I just know I'm going to have to deal with the little bastard."
"Oh, no you won't," Sybil replied, suddenly grinning. "Havelock knows exactly where Frederick Rust is."
"Sybil, you're not suggesting that the Patrician kidnapped Lord Rust's son, are you?"
"Well, no - not by himself."
"Sybil?"
"Come into the Nauseatingly Green room, Sam; this may take awhile."
~
"So . . ." a voice behind Lord Rust said, nearly making the enraged noble jump onto the chandelier. "I suppose your son's been kidnapped and you're complaining about Vimes' insolence?"
Rust turned to see Lord Vetinari standing in completely open space behind him. He wasn't wearing the dust-black robe of office, rather a very dark green cloak. He was all but invisible in the shadow.
"Stop pulling Assassins' tricks and tell me what the hell's going on, Havelock." Vetinari shrugged and seated himself next to Rust. There must be something about the way he was sitting, Rust decided, that made him look as though he could disappear any minute.
"Where would you like me to start?" Vetinari asked, staring at the opposite wall.
"I want to know what you've done with my son!"
"Not what we've done with him, Ron. Why would be appropriate, I think." The Patrician fixed him with a cool blue stare. "He's perfectly safe from harm, if that's what you're wondering."
Rust put his head in his hands and scrubbed his large, red face. "Why are you doing this to me? First Downey shows up at my front door with Caro, who I'd told to stay in the house, and then my son goes missing. What have I done?"
"Well," Vetinari shifted and crossed his legs, "I suppose it all started with that . . . situation in Klatch. You seemed so upset about not getting your way, and you would have these little tantrums from time to time. Then you started hitting your son. Then Frederick killed a servant, which is not in his character at all." Vetinari gave Rust a nasty glare. "Caro is terrified of you, Ron. And it takes a hell of a lot to scare that woman, if you ask me."
Rust found himself both very, very ashamed and very, very angry at the same time. He was ashamed because he'd just realized that he had been truly awful to work with since the Klatch incident, but he was extremely angry that people who had sworn to be his friends had gotten nosy about it and saw fit to take matters into their own hands. He returned Vetinari's glare, but found it was useless, as the Patrician had moved over to the window and was watching the city move on below.
"You had no right to do this, you know," Rust said after a while.
"But that's where it gets a bit tricky, doesn't it?"
"What are you talking about, Havelock?" Vetinari sighed and turned to face Rust.
"I want you to know that I have objected most strongly to such a harsh reason, but Sybil made me do it." Rust snorted. "I am the Patrician and can therefore do anything I really want to. Consider your son under house arrest." Vetinari caught the horrified look on Rust's face. "I'm sorry, but Sybil didn't think you'd listen if we told you it was to help you sort out your anger-management problems."
"I can't believe the three of you." Rust had risen to his feet, his fists clenching and unclenching. "How dare you!"
Vetinari merely gave him an impassive glance. Rust noticed - even through the bright, hot curtain of fury - that Vetinari was watching his every move under the calm façade. And he'd seen how quickly Vetinari could move. He realized, suddenly, that Havelock would not hesitate in putting someone - anyone - into a headlock if he felt he was in any serious personal danger.
"These will not be the last words I have with you, Havelock," Rust snarled. He stormed out of the Chamber, slamming the doors behind him. Vetinari watched him go, and slipped soundlessly into a shadow.
~
"So let me see if I have this straight," Vimes muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "When you were all about seven - meaning you, Vetinari, Rust and Downey - you all formed a secret little society and vowed eternal friendship?"
"Yes, dear."
"And now Rust is having some severe problems and you have seen it fit to intervene by kidnapping his son?"
"Yes, dear."
"How does this work, Sybil?"
"It's a Homiehood thing, Sam. You probably will never understand." Vimes opened his mouth to say something, but a screaming toddler voice reached their ears.
"Look! All of the banananananas!" Sam Jr. rocketed through the closed door and into the room, displaying a handful of sticky, brown bananas.
"What took so long?" Vimes asked, pulling out a greasy handkerchief and relieved his son of the fruit.
"Willikins had to help me get some off of the ceiling."
"Oh gods . . ."
END, CHAPTER 5
A/n: So . . . sorry it's been taking so long but school and such has taken over my life. I have had no time to write anything that requires much thought, but I got a few breaks and voila! Anyway, in case you were confused, the beginning was a flashback to their childhood. And that's that. Review, por favor.
Twist
~
"So what about official allowances of the Homiehood and everything?" twelve- year-old Havelock asked, pouring milk onto his chocolate cereal.
"How do you mean?" Downey was the only other one awake, and the two of them were enjoying an early breakfast of sugar products on the floor of the shed before Rust and Sybil emerged from hibernation.
"What should we be allowed to do to help out other members?"
"Oh, I don't know." Downey waved his hands and looked at a bird out of the window. "Maybe intervene when they're in trouble by any means we see fit."
"Sounds good to me." There was a brief silence, broken by a very loud slurping noise.
"What are you doing, Havelock?"
"Making a hurricane." Vetinari looked at his confused companion's face. "That was the wind and this -" he dumped spoonfuls of now-chocolate milk onto the stricken rice puffs "- is the rain. And all of the people are drowned."
"Gods save the Disc should you ever hold a position of power, Havelock."
~
When Frederick Rust awoke, the room was empty and the sunlight was slowly being sucked from the landscape. He stood up out of the chair, stretching as he did. A satisfying number of pops rippled up his back. Damn chair. He noticed the brief note, written in very feminine handwriting, on the chair opposite him. Why was he even here?
Oh, right. He'd been kidnapped and was being held hostage by the three richest people in Ankh-Morpork. And he was in the Patrician's vacant mansion. Well, that was alright. Somehow, he found, it was very hard to be upset when you've had a good nap, are safe from physical harm, and are looking at note telling you that there is food in the icebox.
So he made his way down the stairs and into the slightly-less-dust-ridden kitchen. There was and icebox there, and inside it offered milk, cheese, bologna, bread and celery. He wondered why there was celery. Perhaps Lord Vetinari was a vegetarian. Sybil certainly didn't eat celery and judging by the normal diet at the Assassins' Guild, celery wasn't a usual dish.
So he made himself a sandwich, sat down, and ate.
~
Lord Rust was furious. He sat in the coach, fuming, and watched the evening life of the Street of Alchemists go by. Of course, the evening life in the Street of Alchemists was never the same, depending on the state of the Guild that the street had been named after.
He was on his way to the palace. If Havelock wasn't involved in his son's disappearance, Caro had reasoned with him, than he most certainly would know where Frederick was. She had also reminded him not to throttle the man if he was involved in the whole scheme.
He recalled the events of the day. Downey had left after Caro had assured him that she was fine, and Rust had stormed off to the conservatory. After fuming for several minutes, he decided that it was time to have Words with the boy, and had bellowed for him. Getting no response, he sent one of the servants for him. The butler had reported back that Frederick was not in the house and had not been seen leaving the property.
He'd gotten very angry. That was really all he could remember, until Caro had been reasoning with him about not killing Havelock.
The footman opened the door to the coach, and pulled the stairs out. Rust exited, trying to look collected, but knowing he merely looked like an enraged person trying to control himself. He half-stormed, half-ran up to the Oval Office, which Commander Vimes was just exiting.
"Vimes!" he snapped, catching the Commander's attention. Vimes granted him a glance that said, to Rust, 'I'm gutter trash that fell into extreme wealth and fortune but still refuse to pay any attention to my superiors.' The fact that Rust was inferior in rank to Vimes was ignored. "I would like to report a kidnapping."
"I must re-direct you to the people at the Yard, I'm afraid," Vimes said, lighting a cigar. "They will take care of complaints."
"This is not a bloody complaint! My son has disappeared!"
"The Patrician sets up national holidays, I'm afraid," Vimes replied without any emotion. He gave Rust a curt nod and left.
Rust, enraged, stormed into the Oblong Office. It was empty. "HAVELOCK!" he bellowed, without any obvious thoughts to the consequences of using the Patrician's first name and, moreover, yelling it. Drumknott, who had been reaching for the doorknob, had serious second thoughts on the importance of the papers he was holding and fled.
Rust tensed, expecting the man to materialize out of a shadow. But nothing came forward, leaving Rust both very angry and very confused. He looked around himself, but the office was empty. He went behind the desk, looked under it, was viciously attacked by a ball of white fluff, and fled. He heard the thump as the deranged dog ran headlong into the oak door. Drumknott gave the being before him a frightened look.
"Where is Lord Vetinari?" Rust demanded.
"I really don't know sir, though he did just have a meeting with Commander Vimes. Perhaps you could wait in the waiting room?" Rust glared at the secretary. He was damned if he was going to sit in a waiting room. Nobles didn't wait. "Or the Rats' Chamber would be acceptable, I'm sure." Rust gave the clerk a curt nod, and stormed off. Drumknott sagged and entered the empty office, where he was promptly molested by Wuffles.
~
"Daddy!" Sam Jr. slammed headlong into his father's thighs when Vimes entered the Ramkin mansion.
"Hello," Vimes said, patting his offspring on the head. "Could you let go of my legs please?"
"No," was the muffled reply.
"Sam."
"Daddy."
"Let go of Daddy's legs now."
"No."
"Sybil! Help!"
Lady Sybil swept around the corner into the foyer and stifled a grin as she saw why her husband had sounded so distressed. "It's because he loves you, you know," she told Vimes as she pried Sam off of him. The toddler waved at his parents.
"I had a sandwich for lunch today, you know," he told his father. "The bananananas fell out and onto the floor." He grinned smugly. "I hid them."
"And where did you hide your bananas?" Sybil asked sternly, putting the child on the floor.
"Somewhere."
"Well, you may not have supper until you bring your banana slices back down to us." The toddler grinned and nodded. "All of them," she added. Sam ran off, slightly less enthusiastic than he had been. "So how was your meeting with Havelock?" she asked, pecking her husband. Vimes tensed slightly, not being an openly affectionate sort of person.
"Fine," he said, suddenly suspicious. "But Lord Rust reported that his son has been kidnapped and I just know I'm going to have to deal with the little bastard."
"Oh, no you won't," Sybil replied, suddenly grinning. "Havelock knows exactly where Frederick Rust is."
"Sybil, you're not suggesting that the Patrician kidnapped Lord Rust's son, are you?"
"Well, no - not by himself."
"Sybil?"
"Come into the Nauseatingly Green room, Sam; this may take awhile."
~
"So . . ." a voice behind Lord Rust said, nearly making the enraged noble jump onto the chandelier. "I suppose your son's been kidnapped and you're complaining about Vimes' insolence?"
Rust turned to see Lord Vetinari standing in completely open space behind him. He wasn't wearing the dust-black robe of office, rather a very dark green cloak. He was all but invisible in the shadow.
"Stop pulling Assassins' tricks and tell me what the hell's going on, Havelock." Vetinari shrugged and seated himself next to Rust. There must be something about the way he was sitting, Rust decided, that made him look as though he could disappear any minute.
"Where would you like me to start?" Vetinari asked, staring at the opposite wall.
"I want to know what you've done with my son!"
"Not what we've done with him, Ron. Why would be appropriate, I think." The Patrician fixed him with a cool blue stare. "He's perfectly safe from harm, if that's what you're wondering."
Rust put his head in his hands and scrubbed his large, red face. "Why are you doing this to me? First Downey shows up at my front door with Caro, who I'd told to stay in the house, and then my son goes missing. What have I done?"
"Well," Vetinari shifted and crossed his legs, "I suppose it all started with that . . . situation in Klatch. You seemed so upset about not getting your way, and you would have these little tantrums from time to time. Then you started hitting your son. Then Frederick killed a servant, which is not in his character at all." Vetinari gave Rust a nasty glare. "Caro is terrified of you, Ron. And it takes a hell of a lot to scare that woman, if you ask me."
Rust found himself both very, very ashamed and very, very angry at the same time. He was ashamed because he'd just realized that he had been truly awful to work with since the Klatch incident, but he was extremely angry that people who had sworn to be his friends had gotten nosy about it and saw fit to take matters into their own hands. He returned Vetinari's glare, but found it was useless, as the Patrician had moved over to the window and was watching the city move on below.
"You had no right to do this, you know," Rust said after a while.
"But that's where it gets a bit tricky, doesn't it?"
"What are you talking about, Havelock?" Vetinari sighed and turned to face Rust.
"I want you to know that I have objected most strongly to such a harsh reason, but Sybil made me do it." Rust snorted. "I am the Patrician and can therefore do anything I really want to. Consider your son under house arrest." Vetinari caught the horrified look on Rust's face. "I'm sorry, but Sybil didn't think you'd listen if we told you it was to help you sort out your anger-management problems."
"I can't believe the three of you." Rust had risen to his feet, his fists clenching and unclenching. "How dare you!"
Vetinari merely gave him an impassive glance. Rust noticed - even through the bright, hot curtain of fury - that Vetinari was watching his every move under the calm façade. And he'd seen how quickly Vetinari could move. He realized, suddenly, that Havelock would not hesitate in putting someone - anyone - into a headlock if he felt he was in any serious personal danger.
"These will not be the last words I have with you, Havelock," Rust snarled. He stormed out of the Chamber, slamming the doors behind him. Vetinari watched him go, and slipped soundlessly into a shadow.
~
"So let me see if I have this straight," Vimes muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "When you were all about seven - meaning you, Vetinari, Rust and Downey - you all formed a secret little society and vowed eternal friendship?"
"Yes, dear."
"And now Rust is having some severe problems and you have seen it fit to intervene by kidnapping his son?"
"Yes, dear."
"How does this work, Sybil?"
"It's a Homiehood thing, Sam. You probably will never understand." Vimes opened his mouth to say something, but a screaming toddler voice reached their ears.
"Look! All of the banananananas!" Sam Jr. rocketed through the closed door and into the room, displaying a handful of sticky, brown bananas.
"What took so long?" Vimes asked, pulling out a greasy handkerchief and relieved his son of the fruit.
"Willikins had to help me get some off of the ceiling."
"Oh gods . . ."
END, CHAPTER 5
A/n: So . . . sorry it's been taking so long but school and such has taken over my life. I have had no time to write anything that requires much thought, but I got a few breaks and voila! Anyway, in case you were confused, the beginning was a flashback to their childhood. And that's that. Review, por favor.
