I Disclaim, already! It's not mine! Not even Bitesize, Harriet! To allay confusion, I have added a list of the characters mentioned, with their creators, in the first chapter.

There's one thing I don't thank Pterry, Canon God, for doing. That is writing both that smart rats can read human writing, and that they can't, in the same book. Aargh! I didn't realize until now! So much for my plot! Got to fix it now.

Yes, this first scene /was/ in the first chapter. It's here now. It makes more sense, I promise.

Sorry if it's a little bit too wordy. My working vocabulary tends to actually /increase/ when I'm sleep deprived.

Chapter Five
***

Vimes put on his coat. He went out the door. He walked down the street. He watched a cart full of cabbages go past him. It started drizzling. He put his hands in his pockets. He found a cigar in one of them. He took the wrapper off. He lit it carefully. He puffed at it, and he kicked some gravel that was in the street. He watched it roll down the gutter. He sighed. He wondered if the city was driving him quietly mad.

Police work's not supposed to require thought, he thought. Not as such. You just stood huddled in the rain, letting your eyes glaze over and your armor rust...the main qualification for the job was to have nothing better to do. And, if you wanted to stay alive, it also helped to know the city so well that your feet could recognize every cobblestone they came across, and could indicate to your legs which ways would be a good idea not to go, and steer you away from them, without the inconvenient intermediary of the brain.

***

"Hello. I'm Skrp, the leader of the rats of Vetinari's palace. I hear you come from far away. Who are you, and how have you come here?"

"I am Darktan. I am head of the clan of Bad Blintz. I have brought some of my rats with me on a mission to find out if there were any rats like you in this city still." He didn't smell friendliness. He took a step towards Skrp.

Skrp stepped up close to him. They were nose to nose, an especially dangerous position for a rat. "So. A historical occasion. Two rat leaders meet, and no one cowers. No one dies. We have become like humans, fighting with words."

Darktan smelled the edge of anger to his words, but he stood his ground. "I did not come to fight in any way. Living with the humans of Bad Blintz has taught us that beings with minds have them so that they don't have to fight. We can respect each other as equals. We are no longer animals, that fight every time we meet." He was getting angry too. He fought to at least keep his voice level, and believe his own words.

"Vetinari has taught us much as well. He taught us that life is a struggle, and that even intelligent minds can be stupid, and the most valuable thing on the Disc is control. He helped us learn to control with thoughts instead of teeth and claws. In every pairing of minds, there is one that has a fraction more control over the other. Even among humans, every meeting is a fight."

Bestbefore spoke. "This Vetinari; you cower before him, don't you? Just like you would have before, to any rat bigger and stronger than you?"

"Yes," said Skrp. "He is superior to me, just as I am to all my rats. You spoke without your leader's permission? Darktan, why do you allow this?"

"He's got a mind. I let him use it. It usually gives me information I'm better off for knowing."

"Darktan, sir?" said Cornflakes. "That must be why the Commander said he'd never heard a rat speak before. They wouldn't speak in front of humans."

"We are very different," said Skrp. "Incredible. When we are so much the same thing. Rats with minds."

"Well, Skrp, I'm not going to fight you. But I'm not going to cower either."

"Darktan. I'm not going to fight you with claws. But I will always be ready with words."

"Good." They both took a step back at the same time, and then relaxed, just a little.

Darktan stretched his back. "Just when you think you're starting to get over these instincts. I didn't mean our first meeting to be that way."

"I see," said Skrp, smoothing his fur, "that I, too, would not have done that if only thought led me. We are all still rats."

"And even rats have a lot to learn about each other. Let me ask about your clan."

***

Yes, Mantis had studied Vetinari. It was best to know as much about every person in the city as possible. They might be your next assignment, or your next employer. In the case of Vetinari, he would have expected the latter. But he had prepared for this.

The records that the Guild had on him were intriguing, even riveting. From the first, the young lord had excelled in his studies, particularly knife-throwing, history, and, surprisingly, poetry. He was prized by his teachers. He also excelled in not being exterminated by one of his fellow students in a jealous rage. This gave him a distinct advantage for rising through the ranks of the school. His skills grew, and he was encouraged by his professors to take up more of the offensive classes available. He declined.

Instead he chose to delve into the study of languages. This was not a usual course of study, and one of his professors, Lord Zandemere, who taught fencing and cooking,* once approached him on the subject.

[*An assassin must know how to cook. Food tasters are all very well, but not all assassins are rich, and not all food tasters are honest, and circumstances may require even a noble to do without them.]

"Ah, young Lord Vetinari," he said. "I've been meaning to ask you about something. I have an interest in the proper education of every student of the Guild. And I was wondering if you could explain to me, why exactly you have chosen your current course of study. It seems to me to be rather light on weapons training. I mean to say, an Assassin must prepare for every eventuality."

Vetinari looked at the professor, and simply said, "The pen is mightier than the sword, sir."

"But, my young Havelock, you must understand that you are an assassin. That is merely a metaphor. Metaphors cannot be put into practice."

'Young Havelock' looked thoughtfully at his questioner, raised his eyebrows guilelessly. "It's a metaphor?" he said. "In my experience, it is literally true."

The professor stared back, and tried not to think too hard about what the boy was saying. It caused an uncomfortable little place in the back of his mind to twitch.

Vetinari had been fourteen at the time, but he was already Vetinari. He hid his amusement as long as he could.

"Well, my old fish, see you next class," he said, and left before Zandemere could register the words properly. A couple of stragglers, who had been cleaning up the coldroom, came out sniggering. The story had made the rounds of the school within half an hour. It was now one of those legends that was passed down through generations of students.

Mantis had at first not believed that Vetinari had been serious when he made that comment. Then he considered: This axiom, as it seemed, actually worked in the hands of the Patrician. Given a choice between confronting a beweaponed Watchman, or a summons written by Vetinari, only the very bravest in the city would choose to face the wrath of the pen.

In fact, in the Patrician's presence, when the weapons he had available to him included not only words, but sarcasm, metallically glinting eyes, and a pair of extremely intimidating eyebrows, those brave souls often wished that they were instead facing a horde of savage barbarians, or perhaps a large fiery siege engine.

***

"Why did you really come, Darktan?" said Skrp. "What is this mission you are on?"

"We wanted to ask you if you would like to come back with us. This city is no place for a thinking rat."

"Your offer is generous, but we will stay here. I think you misunderstand our place in this city."

"How can you live in a place so full of kee-kees?"

"We learn to deal with it. Rats come with the city, just like the rest of the vermin."

"But you think you're better than they are. You're civilized!"

"So some rats are more polite than others. Isn't that always the way it goes? Even among humans, this is a corner of the world where the rubbish collects. Most of the real vermin in this city run on two legs."

"Oh. I see," answered Darktan. "I try not to think of humans that way anymore. I know now that they can be just as civilized as us. In Bad Blintz, there are only a few of us, and only a few of them, and if someone can't follow the rules we kick them out. I don't think much about what happens to them after that. I guess the kee-kees have to live somewhere; I guess so do the dregs of humanity. But I can't imagine trying to manage them."

"It all comes of being a student of Vetinari," said Skrp. "It's what he's best at."