There was the sound of a sword scraping out of its sheath. "I'm afraid I'm
going to have to escort you to the Palace, sir," Carrot said solemnly.
"According to Law 178, Year of the Infested Echidna, sub-clause eye-eye-eye
any exiled persons have to take up loopholes in their personal decrees with
the Patrician after being escorted to the Palace."
Vetinari gave Carrot a blank stare. Then he turned to Vimes, a mild grin on his face. "Does drawing a sword on a civillian when a watchman's person is not threatened still count as Assault by an Officer of the Watch?"
"Carrot, don't be an idiot," Angua snapped. "And put your sword back."
"You are considered a dangerous criminal," Vimes said to Vetinari with a shrug. "And I really would recommend that you put your sword away," the Commander said to Carrot. "I'm sure he'll at least go without much commotion."
"I'm sorry," Carrot said, shaking his head, "but the sword really is necessary." He pointed it at the politician-turned-pirate. "Move along, sir."
Carrot only blinked in mild surprise when a silvery, curved blade appeared in Vetinari's hand and knocked Carrot's sword to the floor. "I really urge you not to pick that back up," Vetinari said casually, leaning lightly against a chair. He snorted when Carrot did, in fact, pick the sword up.
"As an officer of the Watch, I am viewing that as a threat to my person," Carrot said stiffly. He pointed the sword once more at Vetinari. "I urge you not to move again."
Vetinari raised an eyebrow. With a relaxed demeanor, he shook the dark hair out of his eyes and readjusted his hat. He swaggered across the room towards Carrot and - wearing a crooked and almost comical grin - crossed swords with him. "I've moved," he said.
The two men watched each other for nearly a minute. Angua retreated behind the desk and knelt on the floor next to Vimes' chair. "Should be good," she muttered. The Commander and the Sergeant watched as the two Captains stared each other down.
Carrot made the first move - a graceful downwards strike towards Vetinari's left foot. Vetinari's sword blocked the attempt. The pirate released his left hand from the sword and pushed Carrot backwards into the door. He made a move to knock to sword from Carrot's hands, but Carrot blocked. Vimes could see Vetinari sharpen up then.
"He's paying attention now," Vimes whispered to Angua as Carrot and Vetinari's swords began to clash more frequently.
"You mean he wasn't before?" Angua whispered back. Her eyes were fixed on Vetinari. He drunken and laughable façade did an excellent job of covering up an expert swordsman. He also, she noticed, knew his share of dirty street fighting. She found she couldn't watch anything but him - he was absolute grace.
"You've gone all glazed over, Angua," Vimes whispered, a grin on his face. "Watch your boyfriend for a little while, eh? He's putting up a pretty good fight."
Carrot was putting up a rather good fight, actually. He had Vetinari backed up against the bookshelf at this point and it almost looked like he could beat the pirate. That is, until you took a good look at them both. Carrot was obviously concentrating on the task at hand. Vetinari, however, looked like he was having a grand old time. He was calculating Carrot's every move, blocking every swipe, and thinking five steps ahead of the watchman.
Carrot made what would have been, had he been fighting a less experienced swordsman, an ending blow. What he had intended to happen was Vetinari's sword would spin away and Carrot would have him trapped.
What did, in fact, happen was Carrot's sword spun away and Vetinari spun on one heel. In a second, Vetinari had Carrot pinned against the bookshelf; the pirate's curved, silvery sword glinting in the dingy office light.
"Thank you, Captain Carrot," Vetinari said gracefully, "for a most entertaining fight." He winked at the confused watchman and, sword still trained on Carrot's chest, turned to Vimes.
"Well done," Vimes said approvingly. Vetinari nodded in return. Then he grinned lazily and sheathed his sword.
"I think I'll show myself to the palace," he said nobly. He drew himself up crossed his arms, and looked over his shoulder at Carrot. His grin widened.
Carrot had been edging across the floor, trying to reach his sword. When Vetinari's eyes fell on him he reached out and made a snatch for the weapon, but the battered brown pirate's boot had knocked it across the floor.
"I want you to remember something for me, Captain," Vetinari said conversationally. "You will never, ever draw your sword in my presence without my saying so. Savvy?" Carrot nodded, finally realizing it was probably best to just let Vetinari go. "Good lad." The former Patrician re- adjusted his hat, nodded to all parties present, and swaggered out of the room.
Vimes chuckled. "I'm almost glad he got exiled. Never would have seen this side of him otherwise. And you've gone all glazed over again, Angua."
Angua snapped her gaze away and looked over at her fallen boyfriend. "That was bloody stupid of you," she said. Then she turned and looked at the door Vetinari had walked out of. A dreamy grin settled on her face and she left the room.
"She's acting strangely," Carrot said. He picked his sword up and stood, brushing dust off his spotless breastplate. "Er, sir," he said nervously, glancing out the window and watching an ungainly shape stagger towards the Palace, "you don't think we'll loose our jobs, do you? I mean, we did just let him walk out."
Vimes sighed. "I don't think it'll even cross the Patrician's mind, Captain," he said honestly. "I really don't."
~
Vetinari strolled along Lower Broadway, enjoying himself. The city had changed very little since he had left it, and he was if not overjoyed than at least intensely amused to see that Lower Broadway contained almost exactly the same stalls as it had when he'd been forced to walk down it five years ago. There was even a familiar person up ahead . . .
"Sausage inna bun, sir?" One of Dibbler's odious sausages was shoved under his nose. The rat-like salesman grinned up at him.
"Er, no," Vetinari said at length, eyeing the sausage warily. "I think I'll pass on that offer." He started to walk away when he heard Dibbler following behind him. "What," he asked impatiently, turning on a heel.
Dibbler examined his face critically. "I've seen you before, my fine man. And I never, ever forget a face."
Vetinari shrugged. "You have seen me before. But you'll do well to leave me alone, savvy?"
"That's a Krullian term, that is, my man. Visiting from Krull, are you? Heading to tour the Palace, I'll be bound."
Vetinari flashed the salesman a lightening smile. "I don't believe a tour will be necessary."
Dibbler's face went from enterprising curiosity to recognition to wide-eyed terror. "Sorry to bother you, your Lordship."
Vetinari shrugged. "It's Captain, these days. And this" - there was the sound of coins clicking onto the wood tray - "is for forgetting this meeting ever happened."
Dibbler nodded. With another lightening-quick smile, Vetinari staggered off into the crowds. Shortly afterwards, Dibbler found himself chuckling at Vetinari's appearance. "Never knew he had it in him," he muttered.
~
Lord Rust was reading a report. Perhaps he was engrossed in the material* or perhaps he couldn't hear the soft click over his own voice softly reading aloud. Whatever the reason, he didn't notice the raggedly dressed figure in front of him until it cleared it's throat gently.
Rust sputtered. "I didn't let you in!" he said indignantly. He was slightly put off when the figure merely gave him a happy smile and began rocking back and forth on its heels.
"Lovely what you've done to the office," it said, looking around. Various glassy-eyed animals looked back at it.
Rust used the quiet moment to absorb exactly what he was seeing. A dark- haired man, relatively tall and dressed in ridiculous clothing was standing in front of his desk. His jacket didn't fit. His boots were too large and the hat looked like it had been run over by a cart and set on fire. The man was also wearing eye shadow.
"Rarely got to see the office from this perspective," the man continued, bemusedly. "Very interesting."
"Who are you and what are you doing in my office?" Rust demanded. The man snapped back to reality and gave Rust a blank stare. Rust shifted uncomfortably; he couldn't quite place when he'd come under that stare before. "Well?" he asked pompously, attempting to hide his discomfort.
An ironic smile settled on the man's face and he bowed, making a mockery of the whole sweeping-off-of-the-hat and bending-at-the-waist. "I am the captain of a ship in your harbor and I'm here to negotiate and official document." He straightened and settled the hat back on his head. "I believe my corrections could make the terms of this document beneficial to us both."
"What's your ship's business here?" Rust asked suspiciously. It would be both stupid and bold of a pirate to sneak into his office, but stranger things had happened.
"Restocking," the man said shortly. Rust nodded.
"Have a seat, captain," he said cautiously. "What document are you talking about?"
"I'd rather stand, thanks," the captain said cheerfully. Rust watched as he reached into a pocket in his coat and pulled out a battered document. It was almost as interesting as the man; some sort of liquid had crinkled and aged it drastically and one corner was singed, as if the owner had tried to burn it and decided not to at the last minute.
"Been well-used, has it?" Rust asked, trying to be cheerful. The man across from him was comical, yes, but as time wore on he had taken on a clever sharpness that was making the patrician uncomfortable.
"You couldn't even imagine," the figure drawled. He placed the document on the desk and one be-ringed hand pushed it across the desk towards the patrician. A paler, fatter hand picked it up and pale blue eyes darted across the text. Wide lips moved slowly as the text was read softly aloud. The document was placed down and pale blue eyes met azure orbs of infinite depth.
"Havelock," Rust said softly, staring at the figure across from him. Vetinari nodded slowly. "What have you been . . .?" He snapped out of it and set his face in an angry crinkle of skin and chins.
"You are violating almost every point on this Decree by coming here, Vetinari," Rust growled. "I could have you shot. I could call the guards right now."
"You'll find them quite incapacitated," Vetinari said softly. The slur was gone from his words and despite his ridiculous appearance Rust found himself more frightened of the man than he had ever been.
"I could shoot you right now," Rust said nervously, swallowing. There was a silken sound.
"I don't think you'd do that, Ronnie," Vetinari said, just as softly as he had before. He rested his knuckles on the desk. In his right hand he was holding a spotless, silvery sword. "Now let's talk about that document." He flashed Rust a humorless grin.
~
*It was a report about foreign trade
Vetinari gave Carrot a blank stare. Then he turned to Vimes, a mild grin on his face. "Does drawing a sword on a civillian when a watchman's person is not threatened still count as Assault by an Officer of the Watch?"
"Carrot, don't be an idiot," Angua snapped. "And put your sword back."
"You are considered a dangerous criminal," Vimes said to Vetinari with a shrug. "And I really would recommend that you put your sword away," the Commander said to Carrot. "I'm sure he'll at least go without much commotion."
"I'm sorry," Carrot said, shaking his head, "but the sword really is necessary." He pointed it at the politician-turned-pirate. "Move along, sir."
Carrot only blinked in mild surprise when a silvery, curved blade appeared in Vetinari's hand and knocked Carrot's sword to the floor. "I really urge you not to pick that back up," Vetinari said casually, leaning lightly against a chair. He snorted when Carrot did, in fact, pick the sword up.
"As an officer of the Watch, I am viewing that as a threat to my person," Carrot said stiffly. He pointed the sword once more at Vetinari. "I urge you not to move again."
Vetinari raised an eyebrow. With a relaxed demeanor, he shook the dark hair out of his eyes and readjusted his hat. He swaggered across the room towards Carrot and - wearing a crooked and almost comical grin - crossed swords with him. "I've moved," he said.
The two men watched each other for nearly a minute. Angua retreated behind the desk and knelt on the floor next to Vimes' chair. "Should be good," she muttered. The Commander and the Sergeant watched as the two Captains stared each other down.
Carrot made the first move - a graceful downwards strike towards Vetinari's left foot. Vetinari's sword blocked the attempt. The pirate released his left hand from the sword and pushed Carrot backwards into the door. He made a move to knock to sword from Carrot's hands, but Carrot blocked. Vimes could see Vetinari sharpen up then.
"He's paying attention now," Vimes whispered to Angua as Carrot and Vetinari's swords began to clash more frequently.
"You mean he wasn't before?" Angua whispered back. Her eyes were fixed on Vetinari. He drunken and laughable façade did an excellent job of covering up an expert swordsman. He also, she noticed, knew his share of dirty street fighting. She found she couldn't watch anything but him - he was absolute grace.
"You've gone all glazed over, Angua," Vimes whispered, a grin on his face. "Watch your boyfriend for a little while, eh? He's putting up a pretty good fight."
Carrot was putting up a rather good fight, actually. He had Vetinari backed up against the bookshelf at this point and it almost looked like he could beat the pirate. That is, until you took a good look at them both. Carrot was obviously concentrating on the task at hand. Vetinari, however, looked like he was having a grand old time. He was calculating Carrot's every move, blocking every swipe, and thinking five steps ahead of the watchman.
Carrot made what would have been, had he been fighting a less experienced swordsman, an ending blow. What he had intended to happen was Vetinari's sword would spin away and Carrot would have him trapped.
What did, in fact, happen was Carrot's sword spun away and Vetinari spun on one heel. In a second, Vetinari had Carrot pinned against the bookshelf; the pirate's curved, silvery sword glinting in the dingy office light.
"Thank you, Captain Carrot," Vetinari said gracefully, "for a most entertaining fight." He winked at the confused watchman and, sword still trained on Carrot's chest, turned to Vimes.
"Well done," Vimes said approvingly. Vetinari nodded in return. Then he grinned lazily and sheathed his sword.
"I think I'll show myself to the palace," he said nobly. He drew himself up crossed his arms, and looked over his shoulder at Carrot. His grin widened.
Carrot had been edging across the floor, trying to reach his sword. When Vetinari's eyes fell on him he reached out and made a snatch for the weapon, but the battered brown pirate's boot had knocked it across the floor.
"I want you to remember something for me, Captain," Vetinari said conversationally. "You will never, ever draw your sword in my presence without my saying so. Savvy?" Carrot nodded, finally realizing it was probably best to just let Vetinari go. "Good lad." The former Patrician re- adjusted his hat, nodded to all parties present, and swaggered out of the room.
Vimes chuckled. "I'm almost glad he got exiled. Never would have seen this side of him otherwise. And you've gone all glazed over again, Angua."
Angua snapped her gaze away and looked over at her fallen boyfriend. "That was bloody stupid of you," she said. Then she turned and looked at the door Vetinari had walked out of. A dreamy grin settled on her face and she left the room.
"She's acting strangely," Carrot said. He picked his sword up and stood, brushing dust off his spotless breastplate. "Er, sir," he said nervously, glancing out the window and watching an ungainly shape stagger towards the Palace, "you don't think we'll loose our jobs, do you? I mean, we did just let him walk out."
Vimes sighed. "I don't think it'll even cross the Patrician's mind, Captain," he said honestly. "I really don't."
~
Vetinari strolled along Lower Broadway, enjoying himself. The city had changed very little since he had left it, and he was if not overjoyed than at least intensely amused to see that Lower Broadway contained almost exactly the same stalls as it had when he'd been forced to walk down it five years ago. There was even a familiar person up ahead . . .
"Sausage inna bun, sir?" One of Dibbler's odious sausages was shoved under his nose. The rat-like salesman grinned up at him.
"Er, no," Vetinari said at length, eyeing the sausage warily. "I think I'll pass on that offer." He started to walk away when he heard Dibbler following behind him. "What," he asked impatiently, turning on a heel.
Dibbler examined his face critically. "I've seen you before, my fine man. And I never, ever forget a face."
Vetinari shrugged. "You have seen me before. But you'll do well to leave me alone, savvy?"
"That's a Krullian term, that is, my man. Visiting from Krull, are you? Heading to tour the Palace, I'll be bound."
Vetinari flashed the salesman a lightening smile. "I don't believe a tour will be necessary."
Dibbler's face went from enterprising curiosity to recognition to wide-eyed terror. "Sorry to bother you, your Lordship."
Vetinari shrugged. "It's Captain, these days. And this" - there was the sound of coins clicking onto the wood tray - "is for forgetting this meeting ever happened."
Dibbler nodded. With another lightening-quick smile, Vetinari staggered off into the crowds. Shortly afterwards, Dibbler found himself chuckling at Vetinari's appearance. "Never knew he had it in him," he muttered.
~
Lord Rust was reading a report. Perhaps he was engrossed in the material* or perhaps he couldn't hear the soft click over his own voice softly reading aloud. Whatever the reason, he didn't notice the raggedly dressed figure in front of him until it cleared it's throat gently.
Rust sputtered. "I didn't let you in!" he said indignantly. He was slightly put off when the figure merely gave him a happy smile and began rocking back and forth on its heels.
"Lovely what you've done to the office," it said, looking around. Various glassy-eyed animals looked back at it.
Rust used the quiet moment to absorb exactly what he was seeing. A dark- haired man, relatively tall and dressed in ridiculous clothing was standing in front of his desk. His jacket didn't fit. His boots were too large and the hat looked like it had been run over by a cart and set on fire. The man was also wearing eye shadow.
"Rarely got to see the office from this perspective," the man continued, bemusedly. "Very interesting."
"Who are you and what are you doing in my office?" Rust demanded. The man snapped back to reality and gave Rust a blank stare. Rust shifted uncomfortably; he couldn't quite place when he'd come under that stare before. "Well?" he asked pompously, attempting to hide his discomfort.
An ironic smile settled on the man's face and he bowed, making a mockery of the whole sweeping-off-of-the-hat and bending-at-the-waist. "I am the captain of a ship in your harbor and I'm here to negotiate and official document." He straightened and settled the hat back on his head. "I believe my corrections could make the terms of this document beneficial to us both."
"What's your ship's business here?" Rust asked suspiciously. It would be both stupid and bold of a pirate to sneak into his office, but stranger things had happened.
"Restocking," the man said shortly. Rust nodded.
"Have a seat, captain," he said cautiously. "What document are you talking about?"
"I'd rather stand, thanks," the captain said cheerfully. Rust watched as he reached into a pocket in his coat and pulled out a battered document. It was almost as interesting as the man; some sort of liquid had crinkled and aged it drastically and one corner was singed, as if the owner had tried to burn it and decided not to at the last minute.
"Been well-used, has it?" Rust asked, trying to be cheerful. The man across from him was comical, yes, but as time wore on he had taken on a clever sharpness that was making the patrician uncomfortable.
"You couldn't even imagine," the figure drawled. He placed the document on the desk and one be-ringed hand pushed it across the desk towards the patrician. A paler, fatter hand picked it up and pale blue eyes darted across the text. Wide lips moved slowly as the text was read softly aloud. The document was placed down and pale blue eyes met azure orbs of infinite depth.
"Havelock," Rust said softly, staring at the figure across from him. Vetinari nodded slowly. "What have you been . . .?" He snapped out of it and set his face in an angry crinkle of skin and chins.
"You are violating almost every point on this Decree by coming here, Vetinari," Rust growled. "I could have you shot. I could call the guards right now."
"You'll find them quite incapacitated," Vetinari said softly. The slur was gone from his words and despite his ridiculous appearance Rust found himself more frightened of the man than he had ever been.
"I could shoot you right now," Rust said nervously, swallowing. There was a silken sound.
"I don't think you'd do that, Ronnie," Vetinari said, just as softly as he had before. He rested his knuckles on the desk. In his right hand he was holding a spotless, silvery sword. "Now let's talk about that document." He flashed Rust a humorless grin.
~
*It was a report about foreign trade