Vimes tried to work in his study for a while, reading the backlog of reports that had amassed in the time he had taken off from work after the birth of his son. Failing miserably, mostly due to the fact that Andrew's face stared at him from the end of every line, he put down the papers and unlocked the study door. He could hear Sybil humming as she mucked out the dragon pens. He slipped out of the front door quickly, striding down the street all the way to Pseudopolis Yard, lost in thought.
Captain Carrot looked up when the door of the Watch House opened to see Commander Vimes dressed in civilian clothing and looking extremely distracted standing in the doorway. He leapt to his feet, dropping his pencil on top of the report he had been writing. "Commander! Good to see you sir. I trust Lady Sybil is well?"
Other officers looked up at the sound of the Captain's voice. There was some half-hearted saluting amongst the assembled Watchmen which Vimes acknowledged with a barely perceptible nod. "I can't stay for long, Captain," Vimes said, smiling thinly, "I wouldn't want to waste my days off. I just came to collect some reports."
There was a sudden flurry of activity around the room as officers quickly busied themselves with their paperwork. Vimes's thin smile widened slightly. Carrot nodded. "Of course sir. Nothing much happening on the streets at the moment," he added as they climbed the stairs to the Commander's office.
"Too hot," Vimes said, and Carrot nodded in accordance.
"Yes sir." Carrot paused for a moment, not quite sure how to phrase his next question without getting his head bitten off. "Uh, is everything alright sir?"
"What? Oh fine. Fine! Never better. Nothing of note worth reporting then Captain?" Vimes checked as he picked up some more reports.
"Uh, one thing sir. An unaccounted murder in the Shades. No guild note or anything. We're treating it as suspicious. Unusual method... the victim was burned alive."
"Yes, that sounds fairly suspicious to me," Vimes murmured, making a face. "Well, keep me informed Carrot. I don't like being in the dark." With a final curt nod to Carrot he took his leave. Following him down the stairs, Carrot watched him stalk down the baking streets with an expression of concern.
"Something up?" asked Angua, catching his eye from across the charge room.
Carrot shrugged. "Hard to tell. He looks like he's just had some bad news."
Angua nodded. "Could just be lack of sleep with a new baby in the house," she offered, moving to watch the retreating back of their Commander with Carrot.
"Could be," the Captain agreed. He sighed, sitting back down again, turning his attention back to his report.
Some time later the sound of the door opening again made him glance round. He leapt to his feet, smiling in genuine pleasure. "Ahmed! This is a surprise!"
71-Hour-Ahmed salaamed to Carrot. "Offendi," he said, his voice once more thick with the gravelly accent of a desert tribesman, "Mister Vimes said that should I ever visit your city again I should stop here."
"To hand over your sword," Carrot grinned. "He's not in at the moment." A look of concern flitted momentarily across the scarred face of the older policeman. "Do you need to see him?" Carrot enquired.
The silence that followed his question had the subtle distinction in depth that suggested all the people in the room had suddenly stopped writing and were now listening to the conversation. Sensing this Carrot gestured for Ahmed to go upstairs to the offices, in order to talk in more private surroundings. After the creak of their feet on the wooden floorboards had faded the scritch of pens and pencils on paper gradually filled the room once more, interspersed by perplexed watchmen trying out various spellings under their breath.
"I have grave news, Captain," said Ahmed as soon as the door closed. Carrot blinked at the sudden transition from a thick Klatchian accent to the drawl of a gentleman. "I am here in pursuit of a criminal from the Empire. I would like the assistance of the Watch."
"Of course. Er... do you want me to summon Mister Vimes for you...?"
"He's not on duty today?" Ahmed said, sounding surprised.
"Er no," replied Carrot, "He's taken some time off at the moment."
"You need to send a warning to the wizards at Unseen University. Someone intends to steal the Octavo." Carrot looked blank. "You know, the book of the eight spells that created the Disc?"
"I know what it is, sir," Carrot said with a slight smile, "I just can't see how anyone could steal it. It's down in the cellars, locked in a dungeon. It's very rare that even senior wizards get to see it. I don't understand how anyone could break in."
Ahmed nodded. "Me neither. But the suspect in question broke out of a supposedly completely secure prison. He managed to get to Ankh-Morpork with three /wali/ tracking him, and he's effectively disappeared."
"That's not difficult in Ankh-Morpork," replied Carrot, "It's a city built of bolt-holes."
"I know that," Ahmed smiled, "That's why I came to you."
*
Commander Vimes let himself in through the dragon pens, half-hoping to see his wife and half-hoping for her to be elsewhere so she couldn't ask him anymore questions. She wasn't there; he sighed, in relief and exasperation. Leaning against one of the pens he put down the papers, pulled out a cigar and lit it, reluctant to stay and unwilling to move.
The recently cleaned dragons rustled in their hay behind him as he exhaled smoke. He tried to blow a smoke ring, but all he succeeded in doing was bringing tears to his eyes as he nearly choked on the fumes. He stubbed out the cigar and flicked it into one of the huge bins, picked the papers back up and moved inside. The house was unusually quiet. An elderly swamp dragon was asleep on one of the chairs. It raised its head muzzily as Vimes walked past. He scratched it behind its ears and it rumbled in pleasure.
He dropped the papers in his study, and wandered up the stairs. The muffled sounds of Sybil's voice were audible through the door of their bedroom, apparently talking to Sam. Vimes listened, head on one side, smiling faintly.
"What do you think, eh? Blue or green? Green? I think green too. It was blue yesterday so why not green today? I think your father's favourite colour is green...I wonder if he's come back yet..?" She trailed off, humming under her breath instead.
Vimes felt his face redden in guilt. He hadn't meant to snap at his wife earlier... A sudden ray of inspiration pierced through the storm clouds that had earlier threatened to break in Vimes's head.... a present. An apology. Something that Sybil would really appreciate.
He hurried off to grab his money pouch, and headed out into the streets again.
When he slipped in through the side door again he could smell the slightly singed taint in the air the meant Sybil had been cooking. He padded through into the dining room. Sybil looked up. "Hello," she said almost shyly, "Are you alright...?"
"Better, thanks," he said not quite able to meet her eyes.
"There's some dinner in the kitchen if you want some food."
"Thanks," he replied. "Uh, I've got something for you..." he added after a moments pause.
"Hmm?" she replied, trying to shatter some bacon with her fork.
"To say sorry," he said hastily, muddling Sybil even more.
"What?" she asked, frowning in confusion.
"Tickets," Vimes said with a small smile, producing them from his pocket and brandishing them in front of Sybil's nose. "To the opera. Next week. One for me, one for you. An apology."
Sybil laughed and then realised that Vimes was deadly serious. "Um, I'm very grateful Sam. But you hate opera... I wouldn't want to drag you to see it. There's no need to apologise, I understand you were on edge. Who wouldn't be?"
"No, I want to see it. It's my apology," Vimes argued.
"What about Sam?" Sybil said.
It was a terrible thing to admit but Vimes had actually forgotten his son when buying the tickets. "Er. We can get a babysitter," he said, thinking fast.
"Oh Sam," said Sybil looking downcast, "I don't want to spoil your present but I really wouldn't want to leave him just yet with a stranger. Not for the length of an opera."
Vimes threw up his hands in surrender. "Okay! I'll take them back. I only wanted to say sorry." He gave her an embarrassed sort of grin which she returned.
"I know. Look, don't take them back. I can donate them as a prize to the Sunshine Sanctuary raffle. It was a kind thought..." She paused, not wanting to start another not-quite-argument but also wanting to try and clarify the situation. "About earlier..." she began. A closed look flitted across Vimes's face, the slight upturn of his mouth disappearing and a frown taking its place.
"Yes?"
"I know there's something you don't want to tell me. But if you /don't/ tell me then I'm just going to keep on thinking that the best thing for you to do would be to go and speak to your brother at the YMPA."
Vimes sighed. "Sybil... there are some things in my past which I don't ever /ever/ want to remember. And my brother is one of them. I've been perfectly happy thinking th-"
"Yes, yes you said," Sybil cut in, "But... surely nothing can be so terrible you can't bring yourself to speak to your own /brother/."
Vimes appeared to be staring into the distance when he next spoke, very slowly as if each word was reaching the room from far away. "There are... some things. Some things which can't be forgiven... or forgotten," he finished bitterly, snapping back to the present.
/Tell me/ though Sybil, meeting his sad eyes and feeling a wave of desperate pity wash over her, unable to voice her command. Instinctively she reached out and Vimes enveloped her in a bear hug; an unusual occurrence that might in other circumstances have been quite pleasurable. Vimes muttered something into her shoulder, quite inaudible.
BAM. BAM.
Vimes leapt apart from his wife as suddenly as if he'd been electrocuted, guilty-faced like a small boy caught with his hand in the sweet jar. "Who's that?" he asked, startled.
Sybil rolled her eyes, ever so slightly. "I don't know until you answer it. Wilkins has gone home."
Vimes's expression changed, his face taking on a hunted look. "You don't think it's An-"
"I'll open it and find out, shall I?" said Sybil, hurrying over to the front door, Vimes trailing behind her like a useless shadow.
"Sir!"said Carrot as she pulled the door open, fist raised as he prepared to knock again, "Ever so sorry to disturb you sir..."
Sybil turned to Vimes, who was looking incredibly relieved. "What is it Captain?" he asked, his old air of command about him; the hurt writ openly on his features a few moments ago in a rare private moment had disappeared beneath his frowning exterior. Sybil felt unaccountably comforted. Somehow the frown was better than the saddened, faraway look.
"Someone to see you sir," replied Carrot, stepping aside to reveal 71-Hour-Ahmed.
Vimes took a step backwards. "Ahmed?" he asked, smiling with his mouth and somehow managing to maintain a frown, "What are you doing here?"
"It's good to see you too, Sir Samuel. This must be Lady Sybil." He held out his hand, which Sybil took and was surprised to suddenly find it against the lips of the smiling Klatchian as he bent low to kiss it.
"Um," said Vimes, caught off guard by the sudden charm, "Er, yes, this is my wife. Um."
"We've met before," said Lady Sybil, trying to remember where.
"Ah yes. The Convivium."
Vimes smiled, inwardly, wondering if he should tell Sybil that Ahmed had offered twenty camels for her.
"No... before that..." Sybil said slowly, frowning in the effort of recall, "Didn't you used to hang around with Ronnie Rust at the getting-to-know-you balls they held over at the assassin's guild?"
Ahmed's face froze. After a pause he managed to reply. "I do believe I did, yes. You have an excellent memory for faces, Lady Sybil. I do regret the fact that I never did 'get to know you,' as it were."
"Neither did Ronnie," Sybil said absently, making Vimes's eyebrows shoot up so far they were in danger of being lost in his hair. Mentally reminding himself to talk to both his wife and Ahmed later (and separately) he turned back to Carrot.
"What's the matter then Captain? Won't hand over his sword?" he added with a grin.
"Uh, no sir," Carrot replied.
"I have information for you, Commander, on a matter of some concern,"Ahmed explained.
"Oh," said Vimes. After a pause he added: "Dear. Er, do you want to come in, or discuss it back at the Yard or...?"
"I think it's best if we discuss it out of earshot of your officers," Ahmed said.
"Okay. Come in. It's the butler's day off I'm afraid so I'll have to show you to the Mildly Yellow Drawing room myself. If you follow me, it's this way."
Sybil smiled as the contingent of Watchmen hurried away, and went to make some tea in the kitchen.
*
"His name is Omar. I think he was originally from Klatchistan. He trained as wizard at Unseen University about thirty years ago. Returning to Klatch he became involved in Alchemy and Demonology. Not a good thing in a practising wizard, or so I'm told. He... resurfaced from obscurity about ten years ago. Murdered a prostitute with his bare hands," Ahmed said.
"Strangulation?" murmured Vimes, it being the most common death for murdered 'seamstresses' in Ankh-Morpork.
"No," replied Ahmed, looking trouble. "Burnt alive. A combination of magic and alchemical knowledge."
"Nasty," said Vimes nodding.
"No evidence, but we managed to convict him because of the witness."
"A witness? That's unusual in a case like this," Carrot said. Vimes nodded in agreement.
"The woman's daughter," Ahmed said.
"She has police protection?" Vimes asked.
Ahmed looked awkward. "She has disappeared. Even before we were alerted of Omar's escape."
Vimes whistled under his breath. "A potential theft and a kidnapping. Not good."
"Sir," said Carrot suddenly as the memories assailed him, "Sir! There was a murder in the Shades. I was telling you about it this morning. Victim-"
"-was burnt alive. Yes. I remember. Female?"
"Hard to tell sir. Cheery's working on it with Igor as we speak," Carrot answered.
Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right. Carrot, I want you to make a report to Vetinari. I'll go and speak to Ridcully directly... I owe him a favour... Ahmed, liaise with my officers back at the Yard and see if you can identify the body. Is Angua tracking anybody?"
"No sir. She was working elsewhere in the city last night. Hasn't had a chance to have a sniff around the scene yet."
"Right. Well, get her on it. She if she can trail this Omar." Vimes stood up. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get to it," he instructed.
"Of course sir," said Carrot, standing up.
Ahmed said nothing, simply shot Vimes a look of slight admiration before following the Captain out of the room.
Vimes found Sybil in the kitchen. "You're going out?" she asked.
Vimes felt his face redden slightly with guilt. "Yes. I'm really sorry-"
"No need to be. Will you be back tonight?"
"Of course," he replied, slightly hurt. "And there's plenty of need... you and Sam. I want to be home to--"
"I know that," Sybil said, "But people rely on you. Go on, go and keep the streets safe for us." She gave him a gentle
prod. He kissed her swiftly, surprising her with sudden tenderness before rocketing off again in the direction of the
University. Sybil stood for a moment in the silence of her kitchen. Then Sam started to cry again, and she hastened
away to tend to her own duties.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ah, the thick plottens as my friend is wont to remark. Thanks for the reviews people!
-- Lunar