The night crawled on. Commander Samuel Vimes was sitting in the Mildly
Sickening Purple Room in his pajamas, watching it do so. He'd always
enjoyed watching the night. Plus, he hadn't been able to sleep.
He was thinking too much these days, he knew. But with Vetinari gone, who was left to think too much? Patrician Rust certainly didn't and none of the City Council members except perhaps Slant thought about anything but themselves. No one really thought about the city anymore. Vimes lit a cigar and began chewing on the end.
Vetinari had been gone for a little over five years. The chaos of the first two years after his exile had died down and now the city was running just as smoothly as it had under Vetinari, despite Rust's best attempts. Four years ago, Vimes had been the last person in Ankh-Morpork to see Havelock Vetinari.
He had written to Margolotta once at Sybil's request three years ago and she had assured him that Vetinari was alive and well. She even hinted at a career. She told him flat out that he was living somewhere contact was difficult and that contact might eventually fall out. Sybil had been worried, but Vimes and Margolotta were almost sure that the former Patrician could take care of himself.
Vimes looked out the window in the direction of the harbor. That was the true gate to the world. And anywhere outside of that gate, Vetinari could be. He wondered briefly how close to that gate Vetinari still lingered. The Commander really had no idea.
*
The pirate's sharp eye surveyed the city of Ankh-Morpork. Behind him, the crew gaped at the lights.
"And that's really all one city?" One of the crewmates asked. "How're we going to pillage and burn and rape a city that big?"
"We aren't," the captain said lazily. "We have a different mission this time." He turned to face his crew. The gentle breeze off the sea whipped at his knee-length coat. "I want you gentlemen to indulge yourselves in smaller crimes. Petty theft, harassing officers of the watch, that sort of thing. Integrate yourself into the society.
"I myself will take care of the larger crimes. Ankh-Morpork is a dangerous dog to kick. You have to know just how to grab its ears," he said slyly as he looked over his shoulder at the glimmering lights on its horizon. "There is no one competent to watch over it now. Consider this a break." When he turned back to face his crew, the weak light of the quarter moon glinted off white teeth.
*
Sergeant Ping watched the black ship dock in the harbor. The pale light of the morning sun caught its sails as it pulled gracefully into the harbor. Whoever was at the helm certainly knew what they were doing, Ping realized.
He carefully wrote down what time the ship had docked in his log and waited for the crew to disembark. He would speak to the captain about payment, but the crew was where he had been taught to look for hooligans.
The crew had been at sea a long time, Ping could see. They looked tired and like they wanted nothing more than to keep their heads down and get a decent meal. He coughed when one of the female crew members passed by. "Miss?"
She looked up and nodded, acknowledging his presence.
"Is your captain still aboard, miss?" He watched her nod in response. "Thank you," he said. He watched her walk off. When he turned around, he almost laughed.
The captain was walking down the gangplank. He had a sort of swagger about him; half drunken ridiculousness and half noble entitlement. His ill- fitting boots slapped the wood as he approached Ping.
"I'm going to need the name of your ship, sir." The captain stopped and looked at his ship. His lips moved slightly as he repeated the request to himself. He fixed Ping with an inquisitive and slightly amused expression.
"I can't say she really has a name. Bloody great boat, perhaps." His accent hinted at Morporkian, but also at Krullian. He had obviously spent time in both places. Lots of time.
"Well, I need a name to write down here, and I'm going to need ten dollars a day." He paused to chew on his pencil. "I'm also going to need your name and your business here."
"Well, Bloody Great Boat, then. And I'll give you twelve dollars a day if you forget my name." The captain dropped a bag onto the clipboard. "That's three days there." He began to swagger off.
"Wait!" Ping had long since pocketed the money and turned quickly afterwards as the captain made toward the city. The other man spun slowly around and raised an eyebrow. "I still need your business here."
The captain thought for a minute. "Piracy," he answered finally. Ping chuckled.
"Good one sir, but I'm going to need your real business here if you're going to get into the city."
"Sharp lad," the captain said, tapping the side of his nose. "We're here on business, Sergeant. Some negotiations with the Patrician."
"Right," Ping said as he dutifully wrote it down. "Thank you sir." He looked up and the captain was gone. Must have been tired, Ping concluded.
*
Commander Vimes was attempting to defeat the Paperwork when Carrot knocked at the door to his office. The six-foot-six dwarf poked his head in the door. "There's someone here to see you, sir. Says he's sailed quite a ways to meet you."
Vimes paused. He wasn't aware of anybody traveling overseas to meet him. He gave Carrot a puzzled look. Carrot shrugged.
"I can't say he's familiar, sir. He looks quite disreputable though." Carrot looked uneasy. "I could have Dorfl escort him out, sir."
"No, Carrot," Vimes sighed. "Send him in." He watched the dwarf nod slowly. Carrot turned and walked down the steps. The sound of uneasy footsteps approached shortly afterwards. 'They're drunk,' Vimes thought. 'Just what I need at the moment.'
Vimes could not help but stare at the individual who entered the room. After proceeding through the door, the visitor flung himself into the chair in front of Vimes' desk and proceeded to prop his feet up amongst the paperwork. "Hello, Commander," he said with a lazy drawl. The accent sounded like it had its base in Ankh-Morpork but a lot of time had been spent in Genua, and definitely Krull. There was no mistaking that slur of words.
Vimes's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the figure in front of him. He looked dishonest, scheming, too smart for his own good, and like he had been around the proverbial block more than a few times.
"Who are you?" He growled. Ash fell from the lit cigar in his mouth. "What are you doing here?"
"You don't recognize me?" the visitor said, feigning injury. "I may weep." The individual across the desk from Vimes raised an eyebrow and gave Vimes an amused but nonetheless hard stare.
The eyes were very, very blue. And very, very intelligent. And no one knew quite what was behind them.
Vimes almost inhaled his cigar. After a few minutes of coughing, he managed to speak. "What are you /doing/ here?"
"Dropping by," Vetinari said with a crooked smile. "I've just come all the way from Re'Durat. My ship needs restocked."
"You could be killed," Vimes hissed at him. "Showing up in a Watch House, of all places. Are you out of your mind?"
"Most likely," the former Patrician drawled, still staring at Vimes. After watching Vimes's expression for a few moments, he snorted. "Honestly Vimes, do you think I'm going to be caught? Even /you/ didn't recognize me until I practically told you."
Which was true, Vimes reflected. Vetinari was nearly the polar opposite of the Patrician of his past. His dark hair was about chin length and slightly scruffy. He a thin moustache with a short beard. But the clothes were really what made him different.
Gone was the ankle-length green overcoat that Vimes had last seen him in. It had been replaced with brown trousers made of rough cloth, a knee-length green coat with gold buttons and trim, and a simple white shirt. Vimes also noticed the hard-wearing leather boots with the only-just-existent soles.
And the hat. The three-pointed leather hat that threw Vetinari's entire face into shadow. There were black rings around his eyes, as well, Vimes noticed. He really, really hoped that Vetinari wasn't wearing make-up, but he rather suspected that he was. The Commander of the Watch sighed.
"What ever, ever on the Disc inspired you to do this?"
"Piracy seemed to be an attractive career," Vetinari answered simply. "And I had nothing else to do."
"Piracy?" Vimes nearly roared before catching himself and lowering his voice to an enraged whisper. "Are you meaning to tell me that you have become a /pirate/?"
"That was my intent, yes." Vetinari brushed some hair out of his eyes. Yes, he was definitely wearing make-up. Good /gods/. "Really Vimes, you ought to consider it should you ever hit a mid-life crisis."
"So you," Vimes repeated, his hand over his eyes, "Havelock Vetinari -"
"Captain Havelock Vetinari, actually." Vetinari corrected.
"Good /gods/," Vimes nearly howled. "You truly are the most unpredictable human being I know." Vetinari shrugged and lit a cigarette. Black Scopani, Vimes noticed. The Commander briefly wondered where he'd stolen it from.
"Why are you really here?" Vimes asked wearily, tapping the ash of his cigar off and into the mass of paperwork. "Offering me insurance again?"
Vetinari looked surprised. "How did you know?" Vimes snorted. "Alright, I wasn't going to offer you insurance." He paused and took a long drag on the thin cigarette. "I had planned to offer Lord Rust insurance."
Vimes went poker-faced. "You were going to offer the Patrician insurance? From piracy?"
"Yes."
"/You/ were going to go to the /palace/ and offer the /patrician/ insurance?"
"We had established that, I thought."
"You can't do that!" Vimes shouted, slamming the desk. "You cannot do that!"
"And why -" He froze. Vimes froze. Someone was coming up the stairs.
"It's Carrot," Vimes whispered. "And - and Angua too." He put his head in his hands. "Can you hide?" When he looked up, his office was empty. But it wasn't, he knew. Vetinari was in here and Angua would smell him out. This was going to be interesting.
"Alright, sir?" Carrot asked, poking his head in. He noticed the empty office and proceeded inwards. "Where did he go, sir?"
"He's still here, Carrot," Angua said calmly. She was staring at an otherwise empty corner. "And he's good."
"What do you mean?" Carrot asked. He and Vimes watched as she began to walk casually across the floor.
"I know you're here," she said. "And I know who you are." She stood squarely in front of the corner. "Very clever - Oh, gods."
"Hello love," Vetinari said lightly, exiting the corner. Angua couldn't stop staring.
"What have you /done/ to yourself?" she sputtered. "What are you - What is -" Eventually she lapsed into silence. Vetinari gave her an amused grin.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name, I suppose," Carrot said, slightly confused. "Who are you?"
"Er, Carrot, you've already been introduced, though not for awhile. Erm," Vimes scratched his head. "Lord -"
"It's Captain these days, actually," Vetinari jumped in.
"- It's Vetinari, Carrot," Vimes said desperately.
Carrot paused. "But I thought you were exiled," he said finally.
"I was," Vetinari said simply. Then he grinned in a way Vimes did not like at all. "But I found a loophole in the official decree of exile."
He was thinking too much these days, he knew. But with Vetinari gone, who was left to think too much? Patrician Rust certainly didn't and none of the City Council members except perhaps Slant thought about anything but themselves. No one really thought about the city anymore. Vimes lit a cigar and began chewing on the end.
Vetinari had been gone for a little over five years. The chaos of the first two years after his exile had died down and now the city was running just as smoothly as it had under Vetinari, despite Rust's best attempts. Four years ago, Vimes had been the last person in Ankh-Morpork to see Havelock Vetinari.
He had written to Margolotta once at Sybil's request three years ago and she had assured him that Vetinari was alive and well. She even hinted at a career. She told him flat out that he was living somewhere contact was difficult and that contact might eventually fall out. Sybil had been worried, but Vimes and Margolotta were almost sure that the former Patrician could take care of himself.
Vimes looked out the window in the direction of the harbor. That was the true gate to the world. And anywhere outside of that gate, Vetinari could be. He wondered briefly how close to that gate Vetinari still lingered. The Commander really had no idea.
*
The pirate's sharp eye surveyed the city of Ankh-Morpork. Behind him, the crew gaped at the lights.
"And that's really all one city?" One of the crewmates asked. "How're we going to pillage and burn and rape a city that big?"
"We aren't," the captain said lazily. "We have a different mission this time." He turned to face his crew. The gentle breeze off the sea whipped at his knee-length coat. "I want you gentlemen to indulge yourselves in smaller crimes. Petty theft, harassing officers of the watch, that sort of thing. Integrate yourself into the society.
"I myself will take care of the larger crimes. Ankh-Morpork is a dangerous dog to kick. You have to know just how to grab its ears," he said slyly as he looked over his shoulder at the glimmering lights on its horizon. "There is no one competent to watch over it now. Consider this a break." When he turned back to face his crew, the weak light of the quarter moon glinted off white teeth.
*
Sergeant Ping watched the black ship dock in the harbor. The pale light of the morning sun caught its sails as it pulled gracefully into the harbor. Whoever was at the helm certainly knew what they were doing, Ping realized.
He carefully wrote down what time the ship had docked in his log and waited for the crew to disembark. He would speak to the captain about payment, but the crew was where he had been taught to look for hooligans.
The crew had been at sea a long time, Ping could see. They looked tired and like they wanted nothing more than to keep their heads down and get a decent meal. He coughed when one of the female crew members passed by. "Miss?"
She looked up and nodded, acknowledging his presence.
"Is your captain still aboard, miss?" He watched her nod in response. "Thank you," he said. He watched her walk off. When he turned around, he almost laughed.
The captain was walking down the gangplank. He had a sort of swagger about him; half drunken ridiculousness and half noble entitlement. His ill- fitting boots slapped the wood as he approached Ping.
"I'm going to need the name of your ship, sir." The captain stopped and looked at his ship. His lips moved slightly as he repeated the request to himself. He fixed Ping with an inquisitive and slightly amused expression.
"I can't say she really has a name. Bloody great boat, perhaps." His accent hinted at Morporkian, but also at Krullian. He had obviously spent time in both places. Lots of time.
"Well, I need a name to write down here, and I'm going to need ten dollars a day." He paused to chew on his pencil. "I'm also going to need your name and your business here."
"Well, Bloody Great Boat, then. And I'll give you twelve dollars a day if you forget my name." The captain dropped a bag onto the clipboard. "That's three days there." He began to swagger off.
"Wait!" Ping had long since pocketed the money and turned quickly afterwards as the captain made toward the city. The other man spun slowly around and raised an eyebrow. "I still need your business here."
The captain thought for a minute. "Piracy," he answered finally. Ping chuckled.
"Good one sir, but I'm going to need your real business here if you're going to get into the city."
"Sharp lad," the captain said, tapping the side of his nose. "We're here on business, Sergeant. Some negotiations with the Patrician."
"Right," Ping said as he dutifully wrote it down. "Thank you sir." He looked up and the captain was gone. Must have been tired, Ping concluded.
*
Commander Vimes was attempting to defeat the Paperwork when Carrot knocked at the door to his office. The six-foot-six dwarf poked his head in the door. "There's someone here to see you, sir. Says he's sailed quite a ways to meet you."
Vimes paused. He wasn't aware of anybody traveling overseas to meet him. He gave Carrot a puzzled look. Carrot shrugged.
"I can't say he's familiar, sir. He looks quite disreputable though." Carrot looked uneasy. "I could have Dorfl escort him out, sir."
"No, Carrot," Vimes sighed. "Send him in." He watched the dwarf nod slowly. Carrot turned and walked down the steps. The sound of uneasy footsteps approached shortly afterwards. 'They're drunk,' Vimes thought. 'Just what I need at the moment.'
Vimes could not help but stare at the individual who entered the room. After proceeding through the door, the visitor flung himself into the chair in front of Vimes' desk and proceeded to prop his feet up amongst the paperwork. "Hello, Commander," he said with a lazy drawl. The accent sounded like it had its base in Ankh-Morpork but a lot of time had been spent in Genua, and definitely Krull. There was no mistaking that slur of words.
Vimes's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the figure in front of him. He looked dishonest, scheming, too smart for his own good, and like he had been around the proverbial block more than a few times.
"Who are you?" He growled. Ash fell from the lit cigar in his mouth. "What are you doing here?"
"You don't recognize me?" the visitor said, feigning injury. "I may weep." The individual across the desk from Vimes raised an eyebrow and gave Vimes an amused but nonetheless hard stare.
The eyes were very, very blue. And very, very intelligent. And no one knew quite what was behind them.
Vimes almost inhaled his cigar. After a few minutes of coughing, he managed to speak. "What are you /doing/ here?"
"Dropping by," Vetinari said with a crooked smile. "I've just come all the way from Re'Durat. My ship needs restocked."
"You could be killed," Vimes hissed at him. "Showing up in a Watch House, of all places. Are you out of your mind?"
"Most likely," the former Patrician drawled, still staring at Vimes. After watching Vimes's expression for a few moments, he snorted. "Honestly Vimes, do you think I'm going to be caught? Even /you/ didn't recognize me until I practically told you."
Which was true, Vimes reflected. Vetinari was nearly the polar opposite of the Patrician of his past. His dark hair was about chin length and slightly scruffy. He a thin moustache with a short beard. But the clothes were really what made him different.
Gone was the ankle-length green overcoat that Vimes had last seen him in. It had been replaced with brown trousers made of rough cloth, a knee-length green coat with gold buttons and trim, and a simple white shirt. Vimes also noticed the hard-wearing leather boots with the only-just-existent soles.
And the hat. The three-pointed leather hat that threw Vetinari's entire face into shadow. There were black rings around his eyes, as well, Vimes noticed. He really, really hoped that Vetinari wasn't wearing make-up, but he rather suspected that he was. The Commander of the Watch sighed.
"What ever, ever on the Disc inspired you to do this?"
"Piracy seemed to be an attractive career," Vetinari answered simply. "And I had nothing else to do."
"Piracy?" Vimes nearly roared before catching himself and lowering his voice to an enraged whisper. "Are you meaning to tell me that you have become a /pirate/?"
"That was my intent, yes." Vetinari brushed some hair out of his eyes. Yes, he was definitely wearing make-up. Good /gods/. "Really Vimes, you ought to consider it should you ever hit a mid-life crisis."
"So you," Vimes repeated, his hand over his eyes, "Havelock Vetinari -"
"Captain Havelock Vetinari, actually." Vetinari corrected.
"Good /gods/," Vimes nearly howled. "You truly are the most unpredictable human being I know." Vetinari shrugged and lit a cigarette. Black Scopani, Vimes noticed. The Commander briefly wondered where he'd stolen it from.
"Why are you really here?" Vimes asked wearily, tapping the ash of his cigar off and into the mass of paperwork. "Offering me insurance again?"
Vetinari looked surprised. "How did you know?" Vimes snorted. "Alright, I wasn't going to offer you insurance." He paused and took a long drag on the thin cigarette. "I had planned to offer Lord Rust insurance."
Vimes went poker-faced. "You were going to offer the Patrician insurance? From piracy?"
"Yes."
"/You/ were going to go to the /palace/ and offer the /patrician/ insurance?"
"We had established that, I thought."
"You can't do that!" Vimes shouted, slamming the desk. "You cannot do that!"
"And why -" He froze. Vimes froze. Someone was coming up the stairs.
"It's Carrot," Vimes whispered. "And - and Angua too." He put his head in his hands. "Can you hide?" When he looked up, his office was empty. But it wasn't, he knew. Vetinari was in here and Angua would smell him out. This was going to be interesting.
"Alright, sir?" Carrot asked, poking his head in. He noticed the empty office and proceeded inwards. "Where did he go, sir?"
"He's still here, Carrot," Angua said calmly. She was staring at an otherwise empty corner. "And he's good."
"What do you mean?" Carrot asked. He and Vimes watched as she began to walk casually across the floor.
"I know you're here," she said. "And I know who you are." She stood squarely in front of the corner. "Very clever - Oh, gods."
"Hello love," Vetinari said lightly, exiting the corner. Angua couldn't stop staring.
"What have you /done/ to yourself?" she sputtered. "What are you - What is -" Eventually she lapsed into silence. Vetinari gave her an amused grin.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name, I suppose," Carrot said, slightly confused. "Who are you?"
"Er, Carrot, you've already been introduced, though not for awhile. Erm," Vimes scratched his head. "Lord -"
"It's Captain these days, actually," Vetinari jumped in.
"- It's Vetinari, Carrot," Vimes said desperately.
Carrot paused. "But I thought you were exiled," he said finally.
"I was," Vetinari said simply. Then he grinned in a way Vimes did not like at all. "But I found a loophole in the official decree of exile."