Vimes was slightly surprised when Lord Rust stormed angrily into his office
forty-five minutes after Vetinari had departed. He had been expecting
something like it, but not exactly what he had seen. In fact, he'd never
expected to see Rust in a captain's uniform in his life.
"Get to the harbor with some watchmen now, Vimes," he'd huffed. Then he'd turned on his heel and stormed out.
Vimes had pondered the situation for a minute or so and then had called Carrot and Angua to his office. On an afterthought he also called Nobby and Colon. Then he told them slowly and with a neutral expression what was going on. Angua had shaken her head.
"I just hope he's expecting it."
Vimes had chuckled. "I'd be damned if he isn't."
*
Havelock Vetinari was leaning against the railing of his ship, having a quiet smoke. The crew was ready to run if necessary, but Vetinari was taking his time. He knew Rust and he knew that there would be a least a half-an-hour lapse between when Rust declared war against a criminal and when he actually put things into motion.
The meeting had gone smoothly enough, Vetinari reflected, watching a government ship begin to load up with confused-looking sailors. Rust had agreed to the new terms of exile and had signed the official-looking document. He hadn't even spotted that the document was nowhere even close to being official.
Vetinari's real plan went something like this: Get Vimes involved, trick Rust into declaring war against me, blow some holes in his ship, and trick him into signing the real deal. It would work, he knew. The simplest plans always did.
There were other reasons to his certainty. He'd not let the old Vetinari have a romp for quite some time. He'd created a new personality for himself, new mannerisms, new everything. Havelock Vetinari, Patrician, had been boxed away in some forgotten corner of his brain and left to contribute occasional plans or bits of knowledge. But that side could be useful, one had to admit.
It was never, ever wrong. And so he'd used it to get what he wanted.
"Captain?" Vetinari turned away from the government ship and faced his first mate. She coughed nervously. "Don't you think we ought to get going?"
Vetinari looked over his shoulder at the ship. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of brass. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was Vimes and a few Watchmen.
"Interesting . . ." he muttered. He observed the state of the official ship and turned back to the nervous young woman before him. "I suppose we ought to get this show on the road. Figuratively speaking."
She nodded and scurried off to do whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. Vetinari grinned quietly and proceeded to ease the ship out of the slip.
*
Rust caught sight of the ship just as the final crew members were boarding. Sleek, elegant and black it was gliding off into the circle sea. He turned to Vimes.
"Did you know he was still in the harbor?!" Rust roared, gesturing wildly to the ship that was gradually becoming a smaller dot on the horizon.
"No," Vimes answered honestly.
"We could have had him right there! Don't your men keep record of this sort of thing?!"
"Only ships that have docked, sir. We figure that once they leave, they are no longer out problem."
Rust heaved angrily and whirled to watch the ship as it disappeared. He then slowly turned to the captain and said as calmly as he could "I want that ship followed now, and as fast as possible."
"Yes, sir," the captain said. Vimes turned away from Rust and the rest of his crew and faced what members of the watch he'd brought with him.
"We don't stand a chance," he said definitively. Angua and Carrot nodded, Colon and Nobby looked nervous. "If I know Vetinari, he won't let this ship go down. This is all a move in some great game he's playing at the moment and it spoils the game if you crush bits of it to tiny pieces." He paused. "But I will warn you, never in his past has he hesitated at taking little chips out of them. Be prepared for something approaching a naval battle."
"Should we slay the enemy?" Carrot asked, face radiating honesty. Vimes sighed.
"No, Carrot. Just find a quiet place to hide where you can see what's happening but won't get stabbed."
*
"Drop the sails," Vetinari said lazily, leaning against the helm. "They ought to catch up with us eventually. As he watched the horizon in the direction from which they'd come, he was aware of a whispered conversation amongst the crew.
"Captain," he heard the first mate say. He turned to face her slowly, and saw that she did not look nervous this time. The rest of the crew was standing behind her and none of them looked happy.
"You have a point to make?" he asked cautiously.
"We don't agree with what you're doing," she said. There were nods from the crew.
"No?" he asked.
"We saw the ship they're coming after us with. This ship's good, yes, but it's no match for that. That's a battleship, sir." She paused and looked around. There were nods of encouragement from the rest of the crew. "It seems that you're leading us into our own death trap."
Vetinari chuckled. "Is that the problem?"
She looked slightly put-off. "Yes . . ."
"Let me tell you all something," Vetinari said easily. "I lived in Ankh- Morpork for some forty-five years. During that time I got to know every single one of the men on that ship. And I can tell you one thing; they're not really interested in any skin but their own."
"Oh?"
"They're hoping it'll be clean - they shoot the cannons a couple of times and we run off." He paused and thought about it for a moment. "Or that I'll die, in which case you'll be safe. If we blow more holes in their ship than they do in ours, they'll surrender."
"Or their ship'll sink," said a hulk of a man near the back.
"Doesn't sound very reliable to me," the first mate snapped.
"I suppose one of us could board the ship and threaten to kill the Patrician if they don't leave us alone," Vetinari conceded. "Actually, that might be easier."
"I think you should do that," the man at the back said. "Bein' the captain and all."
Vetinari shrugged. "Fine by me." He turned and watched the horizon behind him and heard the crew disperse. Then he heard the footsteps approaching.
"If this doesn't work and you're not dead, so help me I'll make sure you'll wish you were," the first mate whispered in his ear. He turned to her and gave her an icy grin.
"Pity then that I've been wishing that for the past six years."
She watched him warily for a moment and stalked off. He turned back to the horizon and smirked. There was a steadily growing black dot in the distance.
*
Shouldn't be much longer, sir," the captain reported to Rust. "It looks like they've dropped sail. We'll be upon them in the hour."
"Good," Rust said stiffly. "You can always count on Havelock to be a damn fool when it comes to his own hide. Thinks he's invincible."
"No one's proved him wrong yet," Vimes pointed out.
Rust gave him an icy glare. "Well, I'll just have to do that then, won't I?"
"Good luck sir," Vimes said. Then he fled.
The watchmen had congregated at the front of the ship, watching the black ship on the horizon grow bigger. Vimes joined them.
"Why do you suppose he's dropped sail?" Carrot asked.
"He's got some silly plan, I suppose," Angua responded. Vimes nodded in agreement.
"Why are we here," Nobby asked. "I mean, here on this ship, not 'here' in general."
"Rust wanted us here. Extra manpower, I suppose," Vimes responded with a shrug. "Not that it's going to do him any good."
"Havelock'll be on him within the first five minutes. It'll be a ten-minute battle," Angua said. They could see little people on the ship now.
"Maybe seven," Vimes chuckled. "I wouldn't push it to ten."
Time passed and the watchmen watched impassively as the Morporkian battleship pulled up beside the pirate vessel. Vimes scanned the faces of those on the opposing ship, but couldn't see Vetinari anywhere.
"Do any of you see Vetinari," he asked the rest of the watch. "He's not hard to miss."
"He's right there," Nobby said nonchalantly. He pointed at where Lord Rust was standing.
Vimes did a double-take. Lord Rust was indeed still standing there, but there was a dark green, sopping wet figure holding an ancient sword to the patrician's throat. Upon closer inspection Vimes recognized it as Vetinari.
"I'll be damned," Vimes chuckled. "That wasn't even a two-minute battle."
"Anyone shoots, stabs and/or fires anything will be responsible for the patrician's death," Vetinari said nonchalantly. "While this may be preferable for some of you, what will not be preferable is the fact that you will then be disposed of. Are we clear?"
No one moved a muscle.
"Excellent!" Vetinari beamed around at the crew of the Morporkian ship. "Now, any of you can shoot me because frankly I don't give a damn, but allow me to introduce myself first." He paused, not for dramatic affect, but to organize his thoughts. "I am Havelock Vetinari."
He'd said it simply and with a shrug, not expecting any sort of recognition or loyalty. Vimes watched in amusement as recognition spread across the crew of the Morporkian ship.
"If I shoot your boat will you kill him and come back?" someone at the back of the crowd said. Vetinari raised an eyebrow. Then he gave Rust a puzzled glance.
"Surely you aren't that bad."
"Damn you," Rust said. "You had this planned the whole time, didn't you?"
Vetinari chuckled. "No, actually this bit wasn't my idea. But it is working really well, isn't it?" He grinned at the first mate, who blushed.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to sign the official revision of the decree of exile." Vetinari said simply.
"What?! I thought I already did that!"
"No, that was a dummy," Vetinari said patiently. He reached into his sopping coat pocket, keeping the sword at Rust's neck. He pulled out a crisp piece of paper and held it out. "This is the real one."
Rust's eyes flicked down the paper. "It's awfully short," he said finally. "And shouldn't there be more tiny print?"
"Why?" Vetinari asked. "It's all right there, big and friendly."
"All it says is that you can't hold an office." Rust glanced up curiously. "What are you up to?"
"We both win," Vetinari said simply. "You're still restricting me from something and I can go in and out of the city."
Rust glared at the paper for a minute or so. Then he sighed. "Fine, you win, you bastard. I'll sign it."
"Nifty," Vetinari said simply. Out of the same wet pocket from which he had produced a perfectly dry piece of paper, he brought forth a pen.
Rust took it, somewhat reluctantly, and signed at the bottom of the paper. The ink was red and appeared to burn on the paper for a moment. Vetinari grinned and folded the paper up. He pushed it back into the same pocket and turned to his crew.
He regarded them curiously for a moment. Then he walked over to the side and exchanged some words with them. As a whole, all of the pirates spared the Morporkian ship a glance and again huddled in conversation. Then Vetinari turned around. He scanned the deck and found Vimes. The rest of the Morporkian crew was still watching as he grabbed the commander by the arm and pulled him aside.
"I'll be back in two months," he said quietly. "Let Rust stew for a little. Give Sybil my regards."
He turned to leave, but Vimes grabbed his coat. "Where are you going?" the Commander demanded.
"Fourecks, I think we agreed on." He shrugged. "It'll be a nice break." He grinned. "All I wanted was to be able to go to Ankh-Morpork. It doesn't mean I'm going to live there. It's the principle of the thing."
Vimes nodded. "What about the government?"
Vetinari glanced back at Rust, who was watching them suspiciously. "I still have more control than he knows."
"What'll you do when you come back?"
Vetinari didn't miss a beat. He grinned slightly mischievously. "I'm going to sell watches."
"Get to the harbor with some watchmen now, Vimes," he'd huffed. Then he'd turned on his heel and stormed out.
Vimes had pondered the situation for a minute or so and then had called Carrot and Angua to his office. On an afterthought he also called Nobby and Colon. Then he told them slowly and with a neutral expression what was going on. Angua had shaken her head.
"I just hope he's expecting it."
Vimes had chuckled. "I'd be damned if he isn't."
*
Havelock Vetinari was leaning against the railing of his ship, having a quiet smoke. The crew was ready to run if necessary, but Vetinari was taking his time. He knew Rust and he knew that there would be a least a half-an-hour lapse between when Rust declared war against a criminal and when he actually put things into motion.
The meeting had gone smoothly enough, Vetinari reflected, watching a government ship begin to load up with confused-looking sailors. Rust had agreed to the new terms of exile and had signed the official-looking document. He hadn't even spotted that the document was nowhere even close to being official.
Vetinari's real plan went something like this: Get Vimes involved, trick Rust into declaring war against me, blow some holes in his ship, and trick him into signing the real deal. It would work, he knew. The simplest plans always did.
There were other reasons to his certainty. He'd not let the old Vetinari have a romp for quite some time. He'd created a new personality for himself, new mannerisms, new everything. Havelock Vetinari, Patrician, had been boxed away in some forgotten corner of his brain and left to contribute occasional plans or bits of knowledge. But that side could be useful, one had to admit.
It was never, ever wrong. And so he'd used it to get what he wanted.
"Captain?" Vetinari turned away from the government ship and faced his first mate. She coughed nervously. "Don't you think we ought to get going?"
Vetinari looked over his shoulder at the ship. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of brass. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was Vimes and a few Watchmen.
"Interesting . . ." he muttered. He observed the state of the official ship and turned back to the nervous young woman before him. "I suppose we ought to get this show on the road. Figuratively speaking."
She nodded and scurried off to do whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. Vetinari grinned quietly and proceeded to ease the ship out of the slip.
*
Rust caught sight of the ship just as the final crew members were boarding. Sleek, elegant and black it was gliding off into the circle sea. He turned to Vimes.
"Did you know he was still in the harbor?!" Rust roared, gesturing wildly to the ship that was gradually becoming a smaller dot on the horizon.
"No," Vimes answered honestly.
"We could have had him right there! Don't your men keep record of this sort of thing?!"
"Only ships that have docked, sir. We figure that once they leave, they are no longer out problem."
Rust heaved angrily and whirled to watch the ship as it disappeared. He then slowly turned to the captain and said as calmly as he could "I want that ship followed now, and as fast as possible."
"Yes, sir," the captain said. Vimes turned away from Rust and the rest of his crew and faced what members of the watch he'd brought with him.
"We don't stand a chance," he said definitively. Angua and Carrot nodded, Colon and Nobby looked nervous. "If I know Vetinari, he won't let this ship go down. This is all a move in some great game he's playing at the moment and it spoils the game if you crush bits of it to tiny pieces." He paused. "But I will warn you, never in his past has he hesitated at taking little chips out of them. Be prepared for something approaching a naval battle."
"Should we slay the enemy?" Carrot asked, face radiating honesty. Vimes sighed.
"No, Carrot. Just find a quiet place to hide where you can see what's happening but won't get stabbed."
*
"Drop the sails," Vetinari said lazily, leaning against the helm. "They ought to catch up with us eventually. As he watched the horizon in the direction from which they'd come, he was aware of a whispered conversation amongst the crew.
"Captain," he heard the first mate say. He turned to face her slowly, and saw that she did not look nervous this time. The rest of the crew was standing behind her and none of them looked happy.
"You have a point to make?" he asked cautiously.
"We don't agree with what you're doing," she said. There were nods from the crew.
"No?" he asked.
"We saw the ship they're coming after us with. This ship's good, yes, but it's no match for that. That's a battleship, sir." She paused and looked around. There were nods of encouragement from the rest of the crew. "It seems that you're leading us into our own death trap."
Vetinari chuckled. "Is that the problem?"
She looked slightly put-off. "Yes . . ."
"Let me tell you all something," Vetinari said easily. "I lived in Ankh- Morpork for some forty-five years. During that time I got to know every single one of the men on that ship. And I can tell you one thing; they're not really interested in any skin but their own."
"Oh?"
"They're hoping it'll be clean - they shoot the cannons a couple of times and we run off." He paused and thought about it for a moment. "Or that I'll die, in which case you'll be safe. If we blow more holes in their ship than they do in ours, they'll surrender."
"Or their ship'll sink," said a hulk of a man near the back.
"Doesn't sound very reliable to me," the first mate snapped.
"I suppose one of us could board the ship and threaten to kill the Patrician if they don't leave us alone," Vetinari conceded. "Actually, that might be easier."
"I think you should do that," the man at the back said. "Bein' the captain and all."
Vetinari shrugged. "Fine by me." He turned and watched the horizon behind him and heard the crew disperse. Then he heard the footsteps approaching.
"If this doesn't work and you're not dead, so help me I'll make sure you'll wish you were," the first mate whispered in his ear. He turned to her and gave her an icy grin.
"Pity then that I've been wishing that for the past six years."
She watched him warily for a moment and stalked off. He turned back to the horizon and smirked. There was a steadily growing black dot in the distance.
*
Shouldn't be much longer, sir," the captain reported to Rust. "It looks like they've dropped sail. We'll be upon them in the hour."
"Good," Rust said stiffly. "You can always count on Havelock to be a damn fool when it comes to his own hide. Thinks he's invincible."
"No one's proved him wrong yet," Vimes pointed out.
Rust gave him an icy glare. "Well, I'll just have to do that then, won't I?"
"Good luck sir," Vimes said. Then he fled.
The watchmen had congregated at the front of the ship, watching the black ship on the horizon grow bigger. Vimes joined them.
"Why do you suppose he's dropped sail?" Carrot asked.
"He's got some silly plan, I suppose," Angua responded. Vimes nodded in agreement.
"Why are we here," Nobby asked. "I mean, here on this ship, not 'here' in general."
"Rust wanted us here. Extra manpower, I suppose," Vimes responded with a shrug. "Not that it's going to do him any good."
"Havelock'll be on him within the first five minutes. It'll be a ten-minute battle," Angua said. They could see little people on the ship now.
"Maybe seven," Vimes chuckled. "I wouldn't push it to ten."
Time passed and the watchmen watched impassively as the Morporkian battleship pulled up beside the pirate vessel. Vimes scanned the faces of those on the opposing ship, but couldn't see Vetinari anywhere.
"Do any of you see Vetinari," he asked the rest of the watch. "He's not hard to miss."
"He's right there," Nobby said nonchalantly. He pointed at where Lord Rust was standing.
Vimes did a double-take. Lord Rust was indeed still standing there, but there was a dark green, sopping wet figure holding an ancient sword to the patrician's throat. Upon closer inspection Vimes recognized it as Vetinari.
"I'll be damned," Vimes chuckled. "That wasn't even a two-minute battle."
"Anyone shoots, stabs and/or fires anything will be responsible for the patrician's death," Vetinari said nonchalantly. "While this may be preferable for some of you, what will not be preferable is the fact that you will then be disposed of. Are we clear?"
No one moved a muscle.
"Excellent!" Vetinari beamed around at the crew of the Morporkian ship. "Now, any of you can shoot me because frankly I don't give a damn, but allow me to introduce myself first." He paused, not for dramatic affect, but to organize his thoughts. "I am Havelock Vetinari."
He'd said it simply and with a shrug, not expecting any sort of recognition or loyalty. Vimes watched in amusement as recognition spread across the crew of the Morporkian ship.
"If I shoot your boat will you kill him and come back?" someone at the back of the crowd said. Vetinari raised an eyebrow. Then he gave Rust a puzzled glance.
"Surely you aren't that bad."
"Damn you," Rust said. "You had this planned the whole time, didn't you?"
Vetinari chuckled. "No, actually this bit wasn't my idea. But it is working really well, isn't it?" He grinned at the first mate, who blushed.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to sign the official revision of the decree of exile." Vetinari said simply.
"What?! I thought I already did that!"
"No, that was a dummy," Vetinari said patiently. He reached into his sopping coat pocket, keeping the sword at Rust's neck. He pulled out a crisp piece of paper and held it out. "This is the real one."
Rust's eyes flicked down the paper. "It's awfully short," he said finally. "And shouldn't there be more tiny print?"
"Why?" Vetinari asked. "It's all right there, big and friendly."
"All it says is that you can't hold an office." Rust glanced up curiously. "What are you up to?"
"We both win," Vetinari said simply. "You're still restricting me from something and I can go in and out of the city."
Rust glared at the paper for a minute or so. Then he sighed. "Fine, you win, you bastard. I'll sign it."
"Nifty," Vetinari said simply. Out of the same wet pocket from which he had produced a perfectly dry piece of paper, he brought forth a pen.
Rust took it, somewhat reluctantly, and signed at the bottom of the paper. The ink was red and appeared to burn on the paper for a moment. Vetinari grinned and folded the paper up. He pushed it back into the same pocket and turned to his crew.
He regarded them curiously for a moment. Then he walked over to the side and exchanged some words with them. As a whole, all of the pirates spared the Morporkian ship a glance and again huddled in conversation. Then Vetinari turned around. He scanned the deck and found Vimes. The rest of the Morporkian crew was still watching as he grabbed the commander by the arm and pulled him aside.
"I'll be back in two months," he said quietly. "Let Rust stew for a little. Give Sybil my regards."
He turned to leave, but Vimes grabbed his coat. "Where are you going?" the Commander demanded.
"Fourecks, I think we agreed on." He shrugged. "It'll be a nice break." He grinned. "All I wanted was to be able to go to Ankh-Morpork. It doesn't mean I'm going to live there. It's the principle of the thing."
Vimes nodded. "What about the government?"
Vetinari glanced back at Rust, who was watching them suspiciously. "I still have more control than he knows."
"What'll you do when you come back?"
Vetinari didn't miss a beat. He grinned slightly mischievously. "I'm going to sell watches."