I see you all liked the "Mighty organ" gag, then…

Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Menchies (Scottish for "mentions") to: Twist, Mercator (more confusion for Milly comin' right up! And thank you very much for letting me use a certain someone! Full credits at bottom of page.), DominoFalling, Maiden Genisis, ida, intriKate, Princess Lauren E Scavenger, Elderberry (no, it's not just you. * evil cackle *), Darthlainey, James Jago (nope, no romance for Milly with his Lordship, for reasons that will soon be apparent!), Unseen Watcher (cheers! * blub *), DDR Freak, Abby and Lady Nemisis!

Thankies!

Now, on with the show!

P. S. It's all Terry Pratchett's. Not mine. I just wish it was.

Chapter Three

Mildred kept glancing at her hand.

The Count had kissed her hand. Twice. No one had ever kissed her hand before. Or called her "dear lady". Or taken her by the arm. The way he'd been looking at her made her feel funny in her tummy. It was all a bit— confusing.

Mildred tried to figure out just what it all meant. She finally settled on the fact that the Count was a diplomat, and being all nice and polite to people was part of the job. His Excellency was a foreigner, too, and she'd heard that foreigners had funny ways. Perhaps that was how he greeted all the women he met.

She had to admit, though, that Count de Magpyr's funny ways were rather nice.

There had been a bit of a panic in the kitchen about the matter of refreshments. Mrs Dipplock had been about to send one of the lads down to the kosher butchers in Longmeat and fetch something for his Excellency, but was worried that would take too much time. Mr Drumknott had solved the matter by politely asking the Count what he would like. And the Count had politely replied that tea would be lovely, thank you.

"There's so many different species that we have to deal with now. We've really got to have something ready for any undead who visit," Drumknott said, as he accompanied the tray bearing Mildred back up to the Oblong Office, "His Excellency said that he could drink tea, but he really can only consume blood. It's the logistics of it, though. We can't just have a bucket of blood lying around in the kitchen on the off chance of a vampire turning up." He frowned, "I'm sure that can't be hygienic."

"Maybe we could get a cow, and take a little bit if any come to visit," said Mildred, "I know it sounds a bit yucky, but I'm pretty sure the cow'll be better off living here for ages and just getting a pint taken every now and then than going to the slaughter house. We could keep it in the zoo, or something."

Drumknott nodded, considering the suggestion, "Hmm. That's not a bad idea. I'll mention it to—" He slowed down, "Ah. Oh, dear."

"What?"

"It's Lord Rust," Drumknott pointed ahead to the open doors leading to the anteroom of the Oblong Office. And yes indeed, there was Lord Ronald Rust, professional arrogant aristocrat and military incompetent, sitting bolt upright in a chair with the air of a constipated bulldog.

"It looks like he's been waiting there a while," said Mildred, a nasty smile appearing on her lips, "Dollar says his Lordship makes him wait another twenty minutes."

Drumknott smirked. "Hmm. Two says it's thirty minutes."

She nodded, "Yer on."

That Rufus Drumknott would actually enter into a wager on his master's behaviour was a fact that would have surprised many people, but Mildred had come to know him a little better since she started to work in the Oblong Office. Most visitors saw Drumknott as the bland, quiet young man who led them in to see his Lordship, or stood by the Patrician's elbow during meetings, passing him notes which Vetinari would use to put some luckless sod on the spot.

The betting between he and Mildred had begun a month before, when a particularly riled up Vimes had been summoned into his Lordship's office. Mildred, filing away a report on mime activity, had wondered aloud if there was going to be any shouting. Drumknott had looked up at her from his desk, with a small, lopsided smile she'd not seen before.

"Hmm," he'd looked at the door to the Oblong Office for a long moment, "I'd wager a dollar that there won't be any shouting, but there will be a need for the plasterer."

"I think there will be shouting. Mr Vimes looks really angry." Mildred paused, "Well, angrier than usual."

Drumknott held her gaze, still with that little smile, "Bet you a dollar?"

Unsure, but intrigued, Mildred had nodded. They got on with their work, listening intently. The quiet murmur of voices leaked out. Then Commander Vimes had come out of the office and carefully shut the door. And then smashed his fist hard against the wall next to it. He simultaneously rubbed his bruised knuckles and wiped off plaster chips as he passed them.

"Mornin' Drumknott. Mornin' Milly."

"Good morning, Commander," Drumknott had looked up at Mildred and smiled once more.

After that, he and Mildred began to bet on all sorts of things; if the Alchemists were going to blow themselves up that week, if Archchancellor Ridcully was going to leave Lord Vetinari's office even more confused than when he went in, or if young Reginald the under clerk was going to accidentally lock himself in the stationary cupboard again (no one quite knew how he managed this. The cupboard only locked from the outside.). Or in this case, whether his Lordship would make the notoriously impatient Rust wait even longer than he already had.

It was thought by many that the clerk didn't have much of a personality. This was not the case. Drumknott had a dry, subtle sense of humour that allowed him to appreciate most of his lord's schemes. He simply kept it very well hidden.

The clerk breezed forward, "Ah, Lord Rust. I trust you haven't been kept waiting too long?"

Rust's milky blue eyes glared up at the clerk, "I've been damn well sitting for—"

"I shall inform his Lordship of your presence immediately, sir," Drumknott broke in smoothly, "If you will excuse me— ah, Mildred, let me get that door for you—"

"Thank you very much, Mr Drumknott. Good mornin', yer Lordship," Mildred curtsied and gave an especially sweet smile to Rust, who nodded curtly and went back to attempting patience. Mildred and Drumknott turned to enter the office and exchanged lightning smirks, wiping them off before the clerk knocked on the door.

"I am afraid I haven't seen much of the city yet," the Count was saying as they entered, "but that will be rectified when the sun sets, I'm sure."

"Hmm, yes. We had expected you to visit us rather later in the day, your Excellency," Lord Vetinari commented.

Magpyr shrugged, "I decided not to waste any time. It seemed rather pointless to arrive and then immediately get into that box of mine, and Igor will take care of all the tiresome business of moving into the Embassy."

"Ah, Drumknott— and Mildred, I see you've brought the tea. If you would be so kind as to serve his Excellency," Lord Vetinari gestured to the Count as Drumknott moved to the desk.

"Lord Rust is outside, my Lord. It appears he's been waiting for some time, I'm afraid."

"Indeed? I'm sure Lord Rust would understand that I am engaged in most important business. I think I might be able to see him in, say—" The Patrician drummed his fingers upon his desk blotter, "Hmm. Twenty minutes should be sufficient."

Mildred grinned at the tea tray in triumph.

Drumknott nodded and left the office, giving Mildred a wry glance as he left. She stepped toward Count de Magpyr, still grinning, when the vampire looked up and locked his eyes with hers. The strange fluttery sensation started up in her stomach again, like she'd been walking down a staircase and she'd placed her foot down, only to find the next step was missing. The Count's eyes were dark, and made her think of mountains and forests and storms and—

She tried to snap out of it. "H-here's your tea, your Excellency."

The Count smiled up at her as he took the cup in long, elegant fingers."Ah! My rescuer from this morning. Thank you, my dear."

"Y'welcome, sir," Mildred hurriedly turned away to give the Patrician his coffee acutely aware that the ambassador was still watching her. She put the mug on the coaster and scurried over to stand quietly by the wall as she'd been trained to do by Mrs Dipplock, in case she was required to fetch anything else for the visitor. She tried to look anywhere except at Magpyr.

With a sinking heart, she noticed Lord Vetinari was also watching her, with his left eyebrow aloft. She bit her lip. There were probably going to be Questions Asked.

"I take it you have already met Miss Easy, your Grace?"

Like that one.

"Why, yes," the Count smiled, "I'm afraid I was rather rude and abandoned young Mr Drumknott as he was showing me up here. You have a very fine harpsichord in one of the chambers downstairs and I couldn't resist having a little go on it. This charming young lady found me and very kindly escorted me here. I really must commend Miss Easy, her politeness and dedication quite puts my own Igor to shame."

Mildred felt her face reddening. The Patrician studied her for a moment, then said, "Most kind of you to say so, Count Magpyr. I am sure Mildred appreciates it."

She risked a glance at the Count. He was gazing at her over his teacup, his eyes twinkling. She managed a weak smile and then took an intense interest in the carpet.

"We have an Igor here in the Watch," Lord Vetinari continued, "In the months since he arrived the life expectancy of the average watchman has almost doubled. Commander Vimes speaks very highly of him, although," he sipped his coffee and frowned slightly, "I have heard he has strange ideas about potatoes."

"Ah, yes – Igor did mention that," the Count said, "I believe that your Igor is his great nephew. In fact, he may be visiting Pseudopolis Yard whilst I am here. I do hope this won't cause any inconvenience."

"Oh, no, I think not. I daresay your Igor shall assist if any cases are brought in. Those gentlemen always like to lend a hand."

Magpyr grinned, "Sometimes even their own. I must say, your Lordship, that I found the reports of Commander Vimes' recent visit to Uberwald most intriguing," Mildred saw a glimmer of – what, sympathy? – in the vampire's eyes, "Although I'm sure he did not find it so. I hope that if he ever decides to return to Uberwald, his stay will be more enjoyable."

Mildred glanced over at Lord Vetinari, who was watching the Count over steepled fingers, "I'm afraid I couldn't say if the Commander would do so, your Excellency. He mentioned an allergy towards being chased by werewolves."

The vampires and werewolves of Uberwald didn't like each other very much, the result of centuries of jockeying for power. In the distant past, this had involved tearing each other to pieces. Now, thanks to the precarious regulations of the Lore, when a vampire and a werewolf met, they treated each other an icy politeness that put the Selachiis and Venturis to shame. In mixed company, anyway. Without witnesses, they circled and watched, waiting for the other to blink.

The ambassador gave an amused snort, "Many people do. You'll be pleased to hear that sort of thing ceased abruptly after the Commander's visit. I believe many of the nobles are worried he'd come back— quite a new experience for us. Usually it's others worrying that we'll return." The Count shrugged, "Many of my fellow nobles in Uberwald are rather arrogant, I'm afraid. They do not realise that the day undead win all the time will be the day we'll be knocked back beyond return."

"An interesting viewpoint," Lord Vetinari sat back in his chair and sipped at his coffee. "I must confess I am a little puzzled as to why you accepted the post of Ambassador. I understand you've never taken much interest in politics before."

"Boredom, if I'm honest, your Lordship," Magpyr sighed, "You wouldn't believe how insufferably dull immortality is. I certainly wouldn't recommend it. I was toying with the idea of visiting Ankh Morpork for some time before I was offered this post. I've been having the Times delivered to my castle and my curiosity was piqued – it seems I've only got to be dead for a mere ten years and practically everything changes. New businesses, inventions— and the clacks! A mere ten years ago you had to wait months for information from Ankh Morpork. Now you can receive it the next day. I find it all quite fascinating."

They all looked up as a knock sounded. Drumnkott entered, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but his Excellency's Igor has arrived with his carriage. He thought it might be best to return to the Embassy before the sun gets too high."

Magpyr sighed and stood up, "I suppose so. I thank you for your time, Lord Vetinari. I shall no doubt speak with you tonight at the reception," a thought seemed to occur to him, and he grinned broadly, "I imagine Miss Stein* shall be accompanying you?"

Lord Vetinari raised his eyebrows, "Hanna? No, I'm afraid not, your Excellency. Miss Stein is at present visiting my aunt in Genua. She is not due to return for another two weeks."

"Ah? What a pity. I was so looking forward to meeting her. She seems quite a vivacious young lady. The society pages devoted to her in the Times quite brightened up my nights."

The Patrician let out one of those rapid smiles of his, so quick it made most people wonder if they'd actually seen it, "I am sure Hanna will be disappointed she missed your arrival. She does so enjoy meeting new people."

"Ah, well, perhaps another time." The Count regarded Mildred, who had come forward to pick up the empty cups, "I wonder if Miss Easy would be kind enough to escort me downstairs?"

Mildred sucked in a sharp breath and looked up at the Count with wide eyes, then over at the Patrician, "Um—"

Lord Vetinari raised his eyebrows once more, "I have no objections. Mildred?"

She stared at Magpyr, who was smiling at her once more, "Um, no, t-that's fine, your Lordship. I don't mind," she hesitated and waved her hand at the cups, "Er—"

"You may remove those when you return, Mildred. I'm sure Lord Rust will be grateful for a cup of your excellent tea after waiting so long."

"Oh. Right."

The Count bowed gracefully to the Patrician, "Good day to you, your Lordship."

"Good day, your Excellency. I look forward to seeing you at the reception."

Magpyr turned to Mildred and offered her his arm. "Shall we?" She tentatively took it in the manner of someone picking up a firework that might go off

At the door, the Count stood aside to let Mildred pass through before him. She pulled up quickly as she almost collided with Lord Rust, coming in the opposite direction.

Rust glared at her. "Dammit, girl, watch where you're going!"

She automatically opened her mouth to apologise when she felt hands on her shoulders, gently moving her aside. Count de Magpyr moved forward to stand next to her, staring down at the shorter aristocrat with slightly narrowed eyes. Rust took a step back.

"I think," he said slowly, "that you may find that it is the gentleman who apologises to the lady, my friend."

"Who the devil are you?"

"Count Karl de Magpyr, the Uberwaldian Ambassador," the vampire treated him to a slow, wide grin, with absolutely no humour in it. Rust took another step back. Beside him, Mildred swallowed and thanked the gods that smile had not been directed at her. His Excellency really did have big teeth.

Rust managed to rally himself and held his hand out to the Count. "Lord Ronald Rust."

Magpyr shook his hand without much enthusiasm. "Delighted. I heard much about your involvement in the recent fias— ah, incident in Klatch." The Count smiled thinly as Rust's face coloured up. Mildred quickly turned away and tried not to smirk.

"Hmph. Well," Rust gestured toward Mildred, "I wouldn't bother too much with defending her. The whole family are troublemakers." Lord Rust regarded any one below a certain income level as a dangerous criminal or an uneducated cretin. Mildred's family had once been his tenants. The incident that had marked them out as "troublemakers" was when one of her brothers had quietly remarked that maybe the rent they paid was a bit too much. Unfortunately, he'd said this within earshot of the rent collector. That had got Mildred fired from her old job in Lord Rust's household and almost got the family evicted.

This time, the Count's smile was just this side of a snarl, "How interesting. If you'll excuse me, your Lordship, there is some pressing business I must attend to."

He turned to Mildred, and gently steered her away from Rust. The smile he gave to her was far more attractive. "I wonder if you might be able to help me, my dear. Rather embarrassing— it appears I am required to bring a partner to the reception this evening, and I'm afraid I have no one to go with. "

Mildred put her head to one side and considered. "Oh, well, there's Lady—"

"Ah, no. I actually would like to ask if you would accompany me to the reception, Miss Easy."

She stared up at him. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. "Y-you want me to go with you?" In the background, she heard Lord Rust spluttering.

"I would be honoured." The Count's eyes were twinkling.

"Um, well—" Mildred glanced over at Rust. His face was turning an astounding shade of purple. She smiled nervously at the Count. "T-that's really nice and I-I'd love to go with you, your Excellency, b-but, um— I'd have to ask Lord Vetinari, and I-I don't have a dress or—"

"Oh, I'm sure we can sort something out for you, Mildred," Lord Vetinari materialised in the doorway of the Oblong Office. "I know Hanna certainly would not mind if you used one of her gowns," he studied her thoughtfully, stroking his beard, "Although some alterations would be necessary."

"You cannot be serious, Havelock!" Lord Rust shouted. Lord Vetinari turned to him with a look of mild surprise.

"I'm afraid so. Miss Easy is rather more petite than Miss Stein—"

"That is not what I meant! She's just a maid. You cannot allow—"

"The reception we are holding tonight is to welcome his Excellency to Ankh Morpork. It is really not up to us who shall accompany him. Indeed, we should find it a compliment that Count de Magpyr has chosen one of our citizens. Do you not agree?"

"I—" Rust hesitated. The Patrician raised his eyebrows and appeared to be awaiting his answer with polite interest. It had slowly began to dawn on Ronald Rust that he'd insulted a visiting diplomat, had further insulted the visiting diplomat by objecting to his choice of companion, and that to do anything other than agree would only compound the situation and was really not a wise career move. Especially not with Lord Vetinari watching him with those cold blue eyes. He swallowed his outrage with visible effort.

"Of— of course. It's just that it rather goes against the way things are usually done."

"Ah, well, I am rather new to the diplomatic business," Magpyr bowed to the Patrician, "I shall take my leave, now. I don't wish to keep Igor waiting; the dear chap does fret so whenever I am about in the daytime. He would find it rather embarrassing to have to sweep me up from the Palace steps."

"Of course. I bid you good day once more, Count de Magpyr."

The Count took hold of Mildred's arm once more and escorted her out into the corridor, abandoning Rust with the Patrician. Mildred had a definite feeling that Rust would find the ensuing interview with Lord Vetinari even more unpleasant than it usually was.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thanks," she smiled at the Count, "And thank you very much, sir."

Magpyr waved a hand, "Think nothing of it, dear lady. I simply cannot abide rudeness. Good grief, the rod up that man's backside seems to have a rod up it!"

Mildred chuckled behind her hand. "You handled that really well, sir."

"Bah. I barely contained myself from throttling the little twit. But that would probably cause a rather messy international incident." He gently squeezed Mildred's arm, "I do hope you did not take his ridiculous comments to heart, dear lady."

"Oh, no, sir. Um, are you really sure about wanting me to come to the reception with you tonight?"

"But of course. I would feel much more confident with a companion who is as charming and polite as you are, " he smiled down at her as she blushed once more, "And I would be most grateful to have a— guide. I assume you have served at a few of these functions before, so you will be able to tell me who is who. Nothing more embarrassing than talking to someone and not having a clue who they are."

She nodded. That seemed to make sense. "Alright. Thank you very much, sir. It's very kind of you."

They found Drumknott waiting at the main doors with the Count's cloak draped over one arm.

"Mr Igor has brought the coach up to the door as far as he could. It's a foot or so shy, I think, but we could hold up a blanket—"

Magpyr smiled at him, "That's very thoughtful of you, Mr Drumknott, but I shall make a run for it. I need the exercise. I do apologise for earlier, I promise you that I will not wander off like that next time we meet."

Drumknott was about to reply when something bounded through the doors and leapt at him. He was bowled over in a frenzy of wagging tails and saliva. Count de Magpyr heaved a great sigh and put his hand over his eyes.

"I do apologise for this. Scraps, get off Mr Drumknott." He turned to the door, "IGOR!"

"Yeth, Marthter?" said Igor, from immediately behind them. Mildred jumped. The Count turned, cloak swirling, to look sternly upon his servant.

"We agreed, did we not, that Scraps was to remain at the Embassy at all times?"

"Yeth Marthter, but he wath looking up at me with thothe big eyeth of hith—"

Mildred stared at the— well, for want of a better word— dog, that was enthusiastically attempting to lick Rufus Drumknott's face off. He managed to push Scraps off, stood up, and then was knocked over again. She walked over and crouched down.

"Hey, boy. Come over here." Scraps looked at her, then barked happily. He bounced over and started to lick her face. Mildred wobbled, but just about managed to keep upright. She laughed and patted him. Drumknott heaved himself up and wiped ineffectively at his face.

"Scraps? A very— good name," he managed.

Igor held out a handkerchief, with a sheepish look on his lopsided face. "Thorry about that, thur."

Drumknott regarded the handkerchief. He reckoned he'd probably require something a little bigger. Like a bath towel.

"We'd better take our leave Igor, I think we've caused enough trouble as it is." The Count gestured to Scraps, "Into the coach, Scraps."

Scraps, who was enjoying being scratched behind the ears by Mildred, whined.

"Scraps!"

The dog gave Mildred a final lick and reluctantly slunk out the doors, followed by Igor. The Count bowed to Drumknott.

"I really am so sorry, Mr Drumknott."

"Not at all, Your Excellency." He wrung out the handkerchief. A small puddle appeared on the floor beneath it. "He's a very, er, friendly dog, isn't he?"

Magpyr pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again, "Oh, yes. He certainly is." He turned to Mildred and bowed over her hand, "I shall see you this evening then, Miss Easy."

"Alright then, sir. Um, it should be fun."

"Oh, I'm sure it will."

They watched the coach rattle off out the Palace gates. Drumknott looked down at himself and sighed.

"First Commander Vimes' son is sick on his Lordship's robe, and now this. Mrs Dipplock is not going to be amused."

Mildred nodded, only half listening. She was still staring after the coach.

o0o

Count de Magpyr stood by as Igor removed the canvas wrappings from around his coffin. Absent-mindedly scratching Scraps behind the ears, he addressed the other occupant of the room.

"So, my friend, did you have any problems?"

"No Milord. I managed to avoid the Watch, but I was accosted by two men from the Thieves Guild. They gave me a receipt." The speakers voice indicated that, yes, they'd experienced it, but they still couldn't quite believe it.

"Ah, yes. Organised crime. What a unique idea. It works, too."

"I don't think it's going to take too long for Lord Vetinari to find out I'm here."

The ambassador chuckled, "My dear chap, I wouldn't be surprised if Vetinari knew about all this before we even arrived."

"I don't like all this sneaking about. I'd really like to go and see Commander Vimes. We're really going to need his help. "

"You'll see Vimes when the time is right. It is vital that our quarry is unaware of your presence for as long as possible." He held up a finger and grinned, "I'm the distraction, remember? Besides, all this intrigue will get him good and angry. He's at his best when he's angry."

Igor took the last of the canvas off the coffin and stood back. The Count ran his hand over the lid and then stopped and tapped his knuckles on it, thoughtfully. "He'll need to be at his best."

o0o

*Hanna Louria Stein (Seamstress extraordinaire, origami expert, champion chilli pepper eater and bannister surfer), belongs to Mercator, and is used here with her very kind permission. I'm not going to give you any more information here, because I want you all to go and read Merc's wonderful stories about Hanna and her relationship with Lord Vetinari: Say Yes, Conspiracy of the Beers, and Vetinari in Absentia, all here on Fanfiction.net! Go on. Read 'em. You'll be glad you did. (Just make sure you're over eighteen, first!)

Thank you very much, Merc! * kowtows *