Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh-Morpork and Commander of the watch, was not having a good day.
"No ma'am I have no control over your neighbor's choice of playing the accordion... Yes it is unfortunate but you shall simply have to bear with it." His voice strained with the effort of remaining calm and friendly. The little old lady in front of his desk clutched her faded handbag to her, but was still not ready to give up the argument.
"It's a disturbance of my peace, Commander!" she squawked.
"Yes but fully within the laws of Ankh-Morpork."
She opened her mouth to argue again but he smoothly cut her off, restraining from the tempting prospect of chucking her out the door. "Ma'am, I will go talk to him- but that is all I can promise, now good day..."
The door to the watch house burst open and Corporal Nobby Nobbs sidled in at full speed, much like a hairy little tornado. "Report sir!"
"What is it Corporal?" Vimes asked, fearing the response to be another pack of loose animals. "What in this gods damned city has gone wrong now?"
Gasping for breath Nobby forced out his words. "Man... beating a child... in the Market, and... it looks bad for her..."
Vimes was out of his chair and running to the door. "Find Carrot and send him to me," he bellowed. "The Market?"
"Second street in."
If there was one thing Vimes couldn't bear, it was bullies beating a child. His feet told him he had rounded the corner to the Market, and suddenly he saw the tableau a hundred yards ahead of him. The burly man had wrenched the girl's shoulder out of socket and drawn his hand back for a stunning blow. The girl herself looked practically done in; if the next blow didn't kill her the one after it would.
"Stop!" Vimes yelled futilely, "I order you to stop in the name of the Watch, I'm placing you under arrest! Stop!" I'm not going to make it in time, he realized as the fist swung down, it's too late.
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His Lordship, Havelock Vetinari, had been enjoying a stroll through the alleys of Ankh-Morpork after paying a profitable visit to the locked office of Lord Rust. In fact, the patrician was feeling practically cheerful about the way things were falling into place. Suddenly he stiffened and faded into shadow as a commotion caught his ear. Sidling along the buildings invisibly he rounded the corner and peered into the Market.
He watched indifferent to Nobby's botched rescue and calmly awaited the arrival of Commander Vimes. There was no need for the patrician to get involved in something like this. Vetinari winced slightly as he watched her shoulder pop, then flinched as her head came up.
It was the girl he had helped the night before, her heavily bruised face hung limply but her hopeless eyes seemed to bore into his own. Damn, he thought and gauged the distance Vimes had yet to come. Damn. He did not want to get involved, but he already had when he gave her the money. I'm going to regret this, he thought dismally.
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Mariel waited for the blow that never came. Instead the grip on her arm loosened, and she fell to the cobbles of the street with a small cry. Glancing up through hazy eyes she saw a tall man, dressed entirely in black, incapacitate her struggling father faster than a moving snake. Another man ran up and slapped metal handcuffs on the drunk while holding a brief whispered conversation with her rescuer.
He made an exclamation of surprise and a heated argument before submitting to whatever the tall man had told him. Making a wild gesture that seemed to say, I wash my hands of it, he turned on heel and dragged her father off.
Suddenly the tall man was beside her. "Can you sit?"
She tried to speak but her throat was too parched and her split lip too painful, so she settled for nodding instead. Quickly he had he propped up against the fountain in the square. "I need to replace your shoulder back in the socket." His voice was dry and cool, every syllable given deliberation. "It will hurt, so brace yourself."
He grabbed her arm between his hands, gently feeling the shoulder bone, then with a fluid motion, popped it back in place. Mariel gave a piteous moan but no more, her pride refusing to voice the whimpers she felt like uttering. Quickly and professionally he checked her for broken bones or gaping wounds. A cold, wet handkerchief daubed the blood from a cut above her eye, clearing her vision somewhat.
The children, led by Jonathan had edged out of their hiding places, toward their fallen sister. The tall man barely acknowledged their presence.
"Can you walk?"
"Yes." Mariel quelled the uncertainty in her voice and forced herself up. Waves of pain rolled through her body and she staggered. Two cold hands grabbed her before she fell and swooped her up.
"I think we need not repeat that experiment." His breath ruffled through her hair as he cradled her gently, taking care to avoid her bad shoulder. Nodding curtly to the children he spoke quietly, "come then," and began striding off through the deserted streets.
"My brother..." Mariel managed to gasp, "Tom, he won't know what happened." She trailed off listlessly, her thoughts still hazy and muddled from the aches coursing through her body.
"He will be notified."
His voice broke through her daze for a moment and she tried to study his face, fighting the urge to give in and sleep. Her eyes coursed the pale skin, the dark hair, the level eyes. And it hit her exactly where she had seen that face before. On the precious coins she handled every day.
"Are you the patrician?" She asked with her one last effort at coherent thought.
"Yes."
She had time for one last response before oblivion overwhelmed her.
"Oh, good."