- 2 -
Lord Havelock Archibald Vetinari, MSCCE (A. Guild, Full Hons.), sat in the Oblong Office, and toyed with some paperwork for a couple of minutes. After a while, he pressed down the button on his desk. Leonard had developed this machine, and it did make communication between him and Drumknott much easier. As it allowed inter-room communication, Leonard liked to call it the speaking-without-tubes-device-that-allows-you-to-talk-to-someone-in-another-room-quickly-without-having-to-raise-your-voice-or-do-any-running-about-or-anything. Vetinari sighed. Leonard might be a genius, but in the field of naming…
"Lord Vetinari? My Lord, are you there?"
"What?" he said, lost in thought, but then not wishing to seem anything other than totally in control, continued with, "…did I tell you about protocol, Drumknott?"
"You told me it was one of the only methods of keeping the city in order, sir."
"Do you not consider yourself part of the city, Drumknott?"
There was a dangerous edge to his voice as he spoke.
"Er…well…"
"Of course you do. So can we return to the original agreed protocol?"
Drumknott sighed in the next room. Vetinari couldn't hear it, but he knew Drumknott too well not to be able to anticipate his very action.
"Speaking-without-tubes-device 1, this is speaking-without-tubes-device 2. Can you hear me? Repeat, do you read me, Victor One?"
Vetinari paused.
"What was that, Drumknott?"
"Sorry, sir. It just…seemed appropriate."
"Well, let's stick to the original protocol, shall we?"
"Yes, sir. Can you hear me, speaking-without-tubes-device 1?"
"I can hear you, speaking-without-tubes-device 2. Is Vimes still there?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"How long has he been waiting?"
"About three quarters of an hour, my Lord."
"Does he look angry?"
"…Angrier than when you last asked, sir. He's started hitting things."
Vetinari permitted himself a small smile. That would be good enough.
"Send him in, then."
"I read you, Victor One. Over and out."
Vetinari sighed. He was all in favour of new technology, in moderation, but when it caused a man like Drumknott to come out with such odd things, it worried Vetinari. He didn't understand it, and this worried him ever more, because he was expected to understand everything.
He heard the weighted floorboard in the corridor outside the Oblong Office squeak, and began to count under his breath. After twelve, which was where Vimes would just be drawing his hand back to knock on the door, he said,
"Enter, Sir Samuel."
The door opened, and Vimes came in, looking both impressed and angry, which is a hard expression to pull off, but Vimes managed it. The Patrician was disappointed – he had hoped for incredulous rather than impressed – but he didn't show it, instead gesturing to a chair.
"Please, Sir Samuel," he said. "Sit."
Vimes did so.
"So," Vimes said. "What are these international matters, then?"
Vetinari smiled.
"Always so urgent to get down to business, Sir Samuel. Are you not even going to relay your wife's message?"
Vimes's face turned an odd purple shade, and Vetinari smiled wider, exposing sharp canines. Ah. Now there was incredulous.
"What…how did you…"
"Settle down, Sir Samuel. Your wife tells me constantly of all the messages she tells you to give to me that never arrive. I simply assumed that today would not be an exception."
"She says hello."
"I see. And how is she? How is she coping with Sam?"
Vimes paused.
"Well…I can be a little awkward at times, admittedly, but I see no reason why…"
Vetinari sighed.
"I meant little Sam. Your son."
"Oh, she's in her element: she's been hiring nursemaids; changing nappies; buying baby clothes, baby toys…baby everythings, really. You know."
Vetinari paused.
"No," he said, finally. "No, I don't know."
There was an awkward pause, and then Vetinari said,
"How is Sam taking to you?"
"Pardon?"
"How is he responding to his father?"
"Oh, he's doing great," Vimes said. "Just great. I mean, I don't see that much of him, mind you, because I'm out working a lot of the time, but the time we do have together I think he enjoys. I got in trouble for trying to teach him how to handle a sword, though. Apparently a sword 'isn't a safe toy for a one-year-old.'"
"A sword?"
"Just a little wooden one – not the real thing."
Vetinari looked at Vimes carefully for a while, and then said,
"Well. Onto more important matters. The war between Klatch and Omnia."
"Wait a second…there's a war between Klatch and Omnia?"
"Not yet, but there will be."
Vimes paused for a moment, not fully able to comprehend this.
"Wait a second…what?"
"There is no official war yet, but it's only a matter of time. It's so close, in fact, that Omnia has begun evacuating civilians. So, firstly, I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of getting some Omnians into the City Watch. Possibly a dhorgon."
"We're supporting Omnia?"
"Well, considering the diplomatic climate between us and Klatch, we felt it was the only option."
"They're still angry about the war?"
"Very much so."
"OK. You want me to take on some Omnians."
"Yes. A dhorgon, if you can get one – we don't want the Watch to be classed as speciesist."
"Right, I've heard you say that word twice now, so it can't possibly be my ears playing tricks on me – what's a dhorgon?"
"Half-gorgon, half-human. The gorgons originates from off the coast of Ephebe, but there was a couple of incidents involving mirrors and heads being cut off and put in bags, and eventually they decided to move to somewhere more accepting."
"And they chose Omnia? They cut the heads off anyone – not just gorgons!"
"I think that's a slight exaggeration, Sir Samuel. Granted, the Omnian church used to be a little…"
"Merciless? Bloodthirsty?"
"…A little zealous, but since the Coming of their Eighth Prophet, things have really started to change. Anyway, the gorgons moved to Omnia. They live in segregated communities, of course, due to the rather irritating fact that looking at them causes people to turn to stone, but every now and then people have found a way to stop this, and there have been cases of human-gorgon relationships, leading inevitably to the dhorgons."
"So, the dhorgons…do they turn people to stone?"
"It's never been documented."
"Ah. Good. OK. Never been documented. Well, if it happens to me, I'll be sure to document the incident."
"Very well, Sir Samuel."
"Right. So, you want me to take in some Omnians…"
"And a dhorgon if at all possible."
"…and a bloody dhorgon if at all possible – I was just getting there – what else?"
"I…the city, after your success in Klatch, feels that you should form a team of Watchmen to be used for special work if needed."
"Is the city asking me, or are you?"
"I'm asking you, Sir Samuel, and as Louis XIV of Quirm once famously said, 'You'd better do what I say or you'll find yourself upside down in a scorpion pit before you can say the words "Sun King". Understood?'"
"Such an eloquent leader."
"You don't need eloquence to rule a city, Sir Samuel, although it does help. No, all you really need is a sharp stick and knowledge of where to prod."
"Sir?"
"Never mind. So, you'll get a team together, and work towards getting a dhorgon admitted?"
"Yes, sir. Why are we taking on a dhorgon again?"
"To prove that the Watch isn't speciesist, Sir Samuel."
"We've already recruited zombies, trolls, golems, at least one member of every clan of dwarves, gargoyles…I think we've got enough to prove our point."
"In my experience, Sir Samuel, you can never have enough to prove your point."
"But, sir…"
"You are excused, Sir Samuel. Don't let me keep you."
Vimes got up, almost knocking the desk to the floor but knowing better, then left. Vetinari counted under his breath. One, two, three, four, five, six… On six, he heard a thump, a crashing sound, then someone swearing. He pressed the button on his desk to activate the speaking-without-tubes-device.
"Can you hear me, speaking-without-tubes-device…?" Drumknott's voice began, but Vetinari cut him off quickly.
"Forget about that charade, Drumknott."
"But…"
"Never mind what I said. Just call in a plasterer and a carpenter, Drumknott. It would seem that Sir Samuel has punched through the weak spot in the wall outside of my office."