Commander His Grace, the Duke of Ankh-Morpork Sir Samuel Vimes, Esq. was on
patrol. He rarely went out on patrol these days, what with young Sam and
Sybil insisting he work longer hours and whatnot. But tonight he was
patrolling. Specifically, he was patrolling the area surrounding the
Hubwards Gate.
Upon reaching the gate itself, he nodded at the officers on duty. Colon and Nobby nodded upon seeing their Commander. Without a word being spoken, the three men opened the human-sized door in the now-barred gate and stepped outside of the city. The Commander lit a cigar and took a deep breath, as if the air one meter outside of the city were fresher.
"Nice moon tonight," Sergeant Colon said to no one in particular. The moon was half-full, and unusually bright. The beams fell across the Commander's cigar case, causing it to glint.
The three men looked across the moonlit cabbage fields. A singular road stretched out before them. Eventually, the road would reach Lancre.
Four months ago, in the dead of winter, the Commander had been traveling that road. On the road he had encountered the former Patrician - Havelock Vetinari - who had been exiled for Crimes Against Humanity by the current Patrician, Lord Ronald Rust.
Almost immediately after Vetinari had taken that faithful step outside the Limping Gate, the city fell into chaos. But, Vimes had sensed, it was a carefully crafted chaos. It was a chaos that Rust would never understand. Yes, Ankh-Morpork was in chaos and yes, Rust was supposedly Patrician, but Vetinari was not the kind of puppeteer that would let go of all the strings at once. Vimes was almost certain he still had a hand in the running of the city.
Vimes' thoughts were interrupted by Corporal Nobbs, who had pointed down the road to Lancre. "Here, what's that?" he asked. Colon and Vimes looked.
Growing closer to the city of Ankh-Morpork was a dark figure. It may have been an enormous creature, or it may have been a man hunched inside an overcoat. It rattled as it walked.
"Suppose we ought to ask who comes hither or something?" Colon asked. Nobby and Vimes shrugged simultaneously.
"They'll get here eventually."
The three watchmen passively watched the rattling figure approach. When it was about four meters away, Nobby took action. "Who're you, then?"
The figure stopped. It seemed to take in the features of the three moon- bathed watchmen, and then began approaching as if nothing had happened. It reached them quickly, and then nonchalantly leaned against the gate. While the three other men looked on, the figure lazily lit a cigarette.
"Who's gone there?" Vimes asked, watching the relaxed figure with mild annoyance. No one just sauntered up to his city and leaned against the gate like that.
"Me." The voice was rougher, less accented with Morporkian High Life, yet it was recognizable.
"Oh," Vimes said. He watched the hunched man exhale smoke from his nostrils. It rather made his silhouette look dragon-ish, Vimes thought poetically. "What brings you here?" he asked, after a time.
Colon and Nobby were at this point listening very closely as to who this figure could be. They recognized the voice, but -
"Business," the figure replied. "I figured with all the tourists around it would be easier to make enough to buy food." There was a pause. "I'm aspiring to a mattress."
"And I'm sure that annoying the Patrician by standing right outside the city gates has nothing to do with it," Vimes observed dryly. The tip on the figure's cigarette turned red as he took a drag.
"Of course not." Corporal Nobbs had been watching the figure's overcoat intently for the past few minutes. The jangling had intrigued him. "Would you like a watch, corporal?" The figure asked. Vimes could only see the amused grin because he was next to the man.
"You'd make a lot more money standing in Sator Square, you know," Colon said. Nobby took a drag on his own dog end.
"Only if you had competitive rates."
The figure snorted and shook his head. Following the brief conversation the three watchmen and one stranger stared off across the cabbage fields.
"How goes the city, Vimes?" the stranger asked finally. He shifted and jangled.
"Chaotic," Vimes replied. "But it's not the sort of chaos I'd suspect." He let the sentence trail off, watching the stranger.
Moonlight glinted off the stranger's grin.
"I can't just let her plummet, Vimes; the disc's economy would crash." He paused. "And then who would buy watches and trees?"
"Here," Nobby said softly, suddenly looking anxious. "You're not the old Patrician are you?"
"I'm gone for a year and I'm already old?" Vetinari said lightly. "Good heavens."
"What are you doing here?" Colon asked nervously. "If we're seen frat - fraterniting with a traitor we could be shot. And you too," he added as an afterthought.
"It's fraternizing," Vetinari said, taking another drag, "and you can't be shot. It wasn't in the decree, anyway."
"So what have you been doing since trees have gone out of season?" Vimes asked while Nobby and Colon wallowed in fear. Vetinari flashed a grin.
"Wandering around and selling watches." He took a drag on the cigarette. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a watch? I offer competitive rates."
"And insurance packages, I'm sure," Vimes said. He eyed the former Patrician, who was leaning against the gate to the city and staring across the fields.
He had changed so much since he had left. He'd shaved off the official- looking beard, making him look at least five years younger. The effect, however, was countered by the grey in his close-cropped and tousled hair. And, of course, he would always have the fathomless Vetinari eyes, which told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking and mocked you because you didn't /even know where to start with him/.
He'd also started smoking, Vimes noted. He wondered how long ago that had happened. Vimes looked at the other man. Vetinari had been watching him think the whole time, with a constant bemused grin on his face.
"Appearances change, Vimes," he said with a shrug.
"That's not what I was thinking," Vimes growled defensively. He gave the former Patrician a good long glare before turning his head and continuing to glare at the cabbage fields.
"What sort of business are you here on, sir?" Nobby whispered, as if they might get caught here and at this time of night.
"Watches," Vetinari said simply.
And then Vimes got it. 'All those years with the man,' he thought, 'and it took me that long to pick up on it.'
"You're here about Ankh-Morpork, aren't you?" Vimes asked softly, his eyes fixed on the cabbages.
"Some watches are bigger than others," Vetinari replied, just as softly. He grinned suddenly. "And well /done/ Vimes. Thought you'd never get it."
Vimes had questions he wanted to ask. He wanted some answers. But he couldn't do it now, not with Nobby and Colon standing in an eight-foot radius. 'But I might never get the chance to ask again,' he thought. Slowly, keeping his face carefully immobile, he turned to Nobby and Colon.
"I order you to patrol Scoone Avenue," he said, mustering all of his commandeering rights. "Now."
"But Detritus has Scoo -" Fred was cut off by Nobby, who had grabbed his arm.
"It's an /order/, Sarge," Nobby said. He winked at Vimes and dragged to protesting sergeant away.
For quite a while, the two men stared at the fields.
"I didn't really think you'd left," Vimes said suddenly. "The chaos was all too carefully crafted."
Vetinari nodded slowly. "I couldn't leave. Not after spending twelve years of my life in servitude to the damn city, I couldn't."
"So where did you go? Where were you between the last fall and the week before Hogswatch?"
"I went to Überwald. Caught up on some old acquaintances, monitored the situation here and generally enjoyed myself." He thought for a moment. "I also was piss drunk most of the time."
"So you picked up some habits," Vimes said neutrally. He glanced at Vetinari's dog end. "Black Scopani, I'd assume?"
"You really ought to try some one of these days." There was silence.
"Why did you really come back?" Vimes asked slowly. "Yes, you wanted to tweak the city around a little bit, but really why? You have never done anything with only one reason."
"I wanted to see it one last time," Vetinari said softly. Smoke curled from the end of the cigarette.
Vimes bridled slightly. "You're not coming back?" he asked. Disbelief radiated from every feature on his face, he was sure, but the thought of an Ankh-Morpork without any Vetinari at all, even behind the scenes, was terrifying.
"I can't," the former ruler said simply. He looked at Vimes' face. "Oh, come off it. You think I'd go into exile and never get over it and linger around the city selling watches?"
"Yes, actually," Vimes said faintly.
"The city will be fine," Vetinari assured him. "It ought to tick along smoothly until another somewhat-competent ruler comes along. Then they'll doubtlessly figure it all out and bring in a new system."
"And what if you're wrong?" Vimes challenged. His initial disbelief had been replaced by anger. "What if things don't tick along smoothly?"
"Then I'll have to walk an awful long way," Vetinari said. "I won't let it die, Vimes."
For some reason, the Commander got an enormous amount of comfort out of hearing those words. He sighed. "But where will you go?"
"I have no idea," Vetinari said simply. "Maybe Genua."
"So while Ankh-Morpork's ticking over on some invisible governmental system, you're off wandering the world?"
"Sounds like a plan to me."
"I just don't know how you can be so sure," Vimes said finally. He allowed himself to slump back on the gate as well, his hands covering his eyes. The other hand held the burnt remains of his cigar.
"I just am," Vetinari said definitively. "Always have been." He snubbed out the remains of his cigarette. "I'm off. Write to Margolotta if you want me to see it." He grinned at Vimes and walked began to walk off. The jangling resumed.
"Wait," Vimes said suddenly. Vetinari looked back over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. "Where do you get the watches?" he asked. Vetinari may be leaving Ankh-Morpork, but Vimes was damned if he wasn't going to criticize the man for stealing watches.
Vetinari shrugged. "I make them."
Vimes watched in disbelief as he disappeared among the cabbage.
Upon reaching the gate itself, he nodded at the officers on duty. Colon and Nobby nodded upon seeing their Commander. Without a word being spoken, the three men opened the human-sized door in the now-barred gate and stepped outside of the city. The Commander lit a cigar and took a deep breath, as if the air one meter outside of the city were fresher.
"Nice moon tonight," Sergeant Colon said to no one in particular. The moon was half-full, and unusually bright. The beams fell across the Commander's cigar case, causing it to glint.
The three men looked across the moonlit cabbage fields. A singular road stretched out before them. Eventually, the road would reach Lancre.
Four months ago, in the dead of winter, the Commander had been traveling that road. On the road he had encountered the former Patrician - Havelock Vetinari - who had been exiled for Crimes Against Humanity by the current Patrician, Lord Ronald Rust.
Almost immediately after Vetinari had taken that faithful step outside the Limping Gate, the city fell into chaos. But, Vimes had sensed, it was a carefully crafted chaos. It was a chaos that Rust would never understand. Yes, Ankh-Morpork was in chaos and yes, Rust was supposedly Patrician, but Vetinari was not the kind of puppeteer that would let go of all the strings at once. Vimes was almost certain he still had a hand in the running of the city.
Vimes' thoughts were interrupted by Corporal Nobbs, who had pointed down the road to Lancre. "Here, what's that?" he asked. Colon and Vimes looked.
Growing closer to the city of Ankh-Morpork was a dark figure. It may have been an enormous creature, or it may have been a man hunched inside an overcoat. It rattled as it walked.
"Suppose we ought to ask who comes hither or something?" Colon asked. Nobby and Vimes shrugged simultaneously.
"They'll get here eventually."
The three watchmen passively watched the rattling figure approach. When it was about four meters away, Nobby took action. "Who're you, then?"
The figure stopped. It seemed to take in the features of the three moon- bathed watchmen, and then began approaching as if nothing had happened. It reached them quickly, and then nonchalantly leaned against the gate. While the three other men looked on, the figure lazily lit a cigarette.
"Who's gone there?" Vimes asked, watching the relaxed figure with mild annoyance. No one just sauntered up to his city and leaned against the gate like that.
"Me." The voice was rougher, less accented with Morporkian High Life, yet it was recognizable.
"Oh," Vimes said. He watched the hunched man exhale smoke from his nostrils. It rather made his silhouette look dragon-ish, Vimes thought poetically. "What brings you here?" he asked, after a time.
Colon and Nobby were at this point listening very closely as to who this figure could be. They recognized the voice, but -
"Business," the figure replied. "I figured with all the tourists around it would be easier to make enough to buy food." There was a pause. "I'm aspiring to a mattress."
"And I'm sure that annoying the Patrician by standing right outside the city gates has nothing to do with it," Vimes observed dryly. The tip on the figure's cigarette turned red as he took a drag.
"Of course not." Corporal Nobbs had been watching the figure's overcoat intently for the past few minutes. The jangling had intrigued him. "Would you like a watch, corporal?" The figure asked. Vimes could only see the amused grin because he was next to the man.
"You'd make a lot more money standing in Sator Square, you know," Colon said. Nobby took a drag on his own dog end.
"Only if you had competitive rates."
The figure snorted and shook his head. Following the brief conversation the three watchmen and one stranger stared off across the cabbage fields.
"How goes the city, Vimes?" the stranger asked finally. He shifted and jangled.
"Chaotic," Vimes replied. "But it's not the sort of chaos I'd suspect." He let the sentence trail off, watching the stranger.
Moonlight glinted off the stranger's grin.
"I can't just let her plummet, Vimes; the disc's economy would crash." He paused. "And then who would buy watches and trees?"
"Here," Nobby said softly, suddenly looking anxious. "You're not the old Patrician are you?"
"I'm gone for a year and I'm already old?" Vetinari said lightly. "Good heavens."
"What are you doing here?" Colon asked nervously. "If we're seen frat - fraterniting with a traitor we could be shot. And you too," he added as an afterthought.
"It's fraternizing," Vetinari said, taking another drag, "and you can't be shot. It wasn't in the decree, anyway."
"So what have you been doing since trees have gone out of season?" Vimes asked while Nobby and Colon wallowed in fear. Vetinari flashed a grin.
"Wandering around and selling watches." He took a drag on the cigarette. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a watch? I offer competitive rates."
"And insurance packages, I'm sure," Vimes said. He eyed the former Patrician, who was leaning against the gate to the city and staring across the fields.
He had changed so much since he had left. He'd shaved off the official- looking beard, making him look at least five years younger. The effect, however, was countered by the grey in his close-cropped and tousled hair. And, of course, he would always have the fathomless Vetinari eyes, which told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking and mocked you because you didn't /even know where to start with him/.
He'd also started smoking, Vimes noted. He wondered how long ago that had happened. Vimes looked at the other man. Vetinari had been watching him think the whole time, with a constant bemused grin on his face.
"Appearances change, Vimes," he said with a shrug.
"That's not what I was thinking," Vimes growled defensively. He gave the former Patrician a good long glare before turning his head and continuing to glare at the cabbage fields.
"What sort of business are you here on, sir?" Nobby whispered, as if they might get caught here and at this time of night.
"Watches," Vetinari said simply.
And then Vimes got it. 'All those years with the man,' he thought, 'and it took me that long to pick up on it.'
"You're here about Ankh-Morpork, aren't you?" Vimes asked softly, his eyes fixed on the cabbages.
"Some watches are bigger than others," Vetinari replied, just as softly. He grinned suddenly. "And well /done/ Vimes. Thought you'd never get it."
Vimes had questions he wanted to ask. He wanted some answers. But he couldn't do it now, not with Nobby and Colon standing in an eight-foot radius. 'But I might never get the chance to ask again,' he thought. Slowly, keeping his face carefully immobile, he turned to Nobby and Colon.
"I order you to patrol Scoone Avenue," he said, mustering all of his commandeering rights. "Now."
"But Detritus has Scoo -" Fred was cut off by Nobby, who had grabbed his arm.
"It's an /order/, Sarge," Nobby said. He winked at Vimes and dragged to protesting sergeant away.
For quite a while, the two men stared at the fields.
"I didn't really think you'd left," Vimes said suddenly. "The chaos was all too carefully crafted."
Vetinari nodded slowly. "I couldn't leave. Not after spending twelve years of my life in servitude to the damn city, I couldn't."
"So where did you go? Where were you between the last fall and the week before Hogswatch?"
"I went to Überwald. Caught up on some old acquaintances, monitored the situation here and generally enjoyed myself." He thought for a moment. "I also was piss drunk most of the time."
"So you picked up some habits," Vimes said neutrally. He glanced at Vetinari's dog end. "Black Scopani, I'd assume?"
"You really ought to try some one of these days." There was silence.
"Why did you really come back?" Vimes asked slowly. "Yes, you wanted to tweak the city around a little bit, but really why? You have never done anything with only one reason."
"I wanted to see it one last time," Vetinari said softly. Smoke curled from the end of the cigarette.
Vimes bridled slightly. "You're not coming back?" he asked. Disbelief radiated from every feature on his face, he was sure, but the thought of an Ankh-Morpork without any Vetinari at all, even behind the scenes, was terrifying.
"I can't," the former ruler said simply. He looked at Vimes' face. "Oh, come off it. You think I'd go into exile and never get over it and linger around the city selling watches?"
"Yes, actually," Vimes said faintly.
"The city will be fine," Vetinari assured him. "It ought to tick along smoothly until another somewhat-competent ruler comes along. Then they'll doubtlessly figure it all out and bring in a new system."
"And what if you're wrong?" Vimes challenged. His initial disbelief had been replaced by anger. "What if things don't tick along smoothly?"
"Then I'll have to walk an awful long way," Vetinari said. "I won't let it die, Vimes."
For some reason, the Commander got an enormous amount of comfort out of hearing those words. He sighed. "But where will you go?"
"I have no idea," Vetinari said simply. "Maybe Genua."
"So while Ankh-Morpork's ticking over on some invisible governmental system, you're off wandering the world?"
"Sounds like a plan to me."
"I just don't know how you can be so sure," Vimes said finally. He allowed himself to slump back on the gate as well, his hands covering his eyes. The other hand held the burnt remains of his cigar.
"I just am," Vetinari said definitively. "Always have been." He snubbed out the remains of his cigarette. "I'm off. Write to Margolotta if you want me to see it." He grinned at Vimes and walked began to walk off. The jangling resumed.
"Wait," Vimes said suddenly. Vetinari looked back over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. "Where do you get the watches?" he asked. Vetinari may be leaving Ankh-Morpork, but Vimes was damned if he wasn't going to criticize the man for stealing watches.
Vetinari shrugged. "I make them."
Vimes watched in disbelief as he disappeared among the cabbage.