MONKEYING AROUND • RECREATIONAL READING • RECREATIONAL DRUGS • WHY DO THEY ALWAYS RUN? • GAME THEORY • MURDER
The next day dawned bright and shiny and far too early in the morning if you asked Vimes.
Sybil awoke him rather huffily, holding his muddy boots and the remains of a cigar stub. "Did you take up sleepwalking?" she asked.
Vimes winced. "Only recreationally, my love."
She dropped the boots onto his chest.
"That's fair!" he called out after her retreating back.
Once dressed, he double-checked the contents of his pockets. Life-timer, still steadily ticking sand, check. Ominous Death coin, check. There was a lump in the pockets of his leather undershirt— he pulled it out and smiled. Sybil had packed him a lunch. It didn't look like she had made it, so it was probably even edible.
When Vimes greeted Young Sam, who was sat on the floor, working studiously on his painting while breakfast was prepared, Sam greeted him back with a slap of yellow paint just below the first one.
"Working with your mother already, eh, lad?" Vimes asked.
"Do-boo!" Young Sam said in victory.
Vimes met Carrot and Angua, who were both thankfully fully clothed, in front of the University. There was a pungent smell of the color purple in the air, which meant that today was probably bring-your-own-dish day at the University lunch.
"Anything new from the Watch House?" Vimes asked Carrot by way of greeting.
He shook his head. "Couple more complaints when I woke up this morning, though people seem to be getting used to the timers. Some more of the Watch have them."
Vimes grunted. "We better get this resolved quickly."
"I'll call… er, Death," Angua said, pulling out her token and placing it on top of her life-timer.
"Do you think we have to say anything to summo— argh!" Carrot jumped back as Death was suddenly standing in front of them. "Ah, hello."
Gᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, said Death.
Vimes watched the reactions of the people passing around them, or, rather, the non-reactions. "Are we the only ones who can see you?"
Aʜ, ʏᴇs, said Death. Aғᴛᴇʀ ʟᴀsᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, I ғɪɢᴜʀᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ʙᴇsᴛ.
At the front door, the young student who had let them in before was replaced by another bored-looking pupil, this one slightly rounder and with only marginally better-fitting shoes. "We'd like to talk to the Librarian," Carrot informed him, politely.
It made sense that they were led to Ridcully's office the first time, but to the Library, which was technically public, was a little more unusual. This was a courtesy to the Watch, or maybe a warning— no one else got an escort through campus.
The boy led them through the campus to the Library, and paused outside the doors. "You've got it from here, right?" he asked nervously. He glanced the direction of the invisible Death, as if sensing something there, but visibly shook it off.
"I've got a banana," Vimes reassured him.
"Oh, good," said the boy. He scurried off, in pursuit of higher education, or, perhaps, higher ground.
Aғᴛᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ, said Death.
The Watchmen went. "Gives me a shiver up my spine," Angua whispered to Vimes as Death waited behind and then swept into the room. Vimes nodded.
"Ook?" enquired a voice from the depths of the Library.
"We come with gifts," Vimes said, and held out the banana.
Eyes emerged from the shadows, significantly higher than a human's head should be. But then the Librarian came into the light, and Vimes saw he was just climbing the shelves, gripping with one hand and both feet. He stared for a moment at the banana.
Vimes waggled it enticingly, trying not to think of 150 pounds or so of orang-utan and how many teeth that might entail.
"Oook," said the Librarian, approvingly, and hopped down off the shelves to take the fruit.
He ate it, staring at each of them in turn; including, Vimes saw, Death.
Carrot cleared his throat. "We're looking for information on Death."
The Librarian's huge furred eyes shifted over to Death. "Eeek," he said.
Yᴇs, said Death. Bᴜᴛ I ᴀᴍ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ. Aғᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ, I ʜᴏᴘᴇ I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.
"Ook," said the Librarian, and shrugged. He knuckled down the hall of the Library, beckoning them to follow. There were other wizards scattered around the Library, watching in pointy-hatted curiosity, but no one tried to approach.
"What does that mean, 'you'd be surprised'?" Carrot asked, leaning in close to Death.
Death didn't answer, gliding along behind the Librarian.
Vimes noticed that Death didn't exactly walk, but he didn't exactly float, either. It was more that he was somewhere and then he was somewhere else. Whether or not that somewhere else was where he would have got by walking was inconsequential. It made his head hurt to think about.
The Librarian led them through the stacks of books. They stuck close together, wary of what dangers might lurk around the corners or inside the musty tomes. One of the books growled at Vimes as he walked by.
Vimes couldn't say he'd been to this section of the Library before, but then again, he made it a point to avoid the Library. At least not without some emergency rations, a long rope, and someone who would come looking after a while.
It was a little darker in the corner where the Librarian finally came to a stop. The bookshelves had started slanting inward a little while ago, rather than sitting in neat rows on the ground, and now they culminated into a sort of artificial alcove with a pointed end. The section was clearly blocked off by a sign on a stanchion that said KEEP OUT!
They walked around the sign.
Angua sniffed the air, seemingly more out of habit than anything. She shook off Vimes' enquiring look. "Just magic, sir," she said. "But I think I'm getting better at blocking it out…" She resumed sniffing.
Vimes looked at the bookshelves, careful not to touch. "And is there anything about hourglasses in here?" he asked. "Life-timers?"
The Librarian looked intrigued. He clambered over a few shelves and swung to a section with a glass door and an extra lock on it. He produced a key from— somewhere— and opened the door.
"Ook," he said, gesturing.
Death stepped forward to peer into the cabinet. Vimes stepped around Carrot, who was determinedly sounding out the titles on another shelf, and looked with Death. Some of the titles were interesting, though only in the way that a spider as big as your hand would be in the moments before you squashed it and ran away screaming.
How to Avoid Death looked promising, but someone had scratched out the title and hurriedly scrawled in something that looked like blood an addendum: this does not work. Similarly, Death and Ghosts seemed intriguing, but when Vimes picked it up with caution it seemed to be a volume detailing how the wizards willed their souls to the University instead of the wossname of the great unknown.
Eʀ, said Death, and swiveled his head around to look at the Librarian. He was holding a book titled How To Summon Death (For Purposef of Love and Thingf Of Similar Natre).
"Eek," the Librarian said hurriedly, and took the book and tossed it over his shoulder, where it immediately burst into flame. Vimes wondered if it was the Librarian, Death, or the Library's doing. Probably it was better not to know.
"Don't you have anything, I don't know, more real?" Angua asked. "Something with real rituals in it."
Death, apparently over his embarrassment, was still looking with interest at the display case. Hᴏᴡ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴅɪᴍᴇɴsɪᴏɴs ᴅᴏᴇs ᴛʜɪs sʜᴇʟғ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?
"Ook."
Hᴍᴍ, Death said. I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴀɪᴅ sɪx.
"Wizards," muttered Vimes. Angua nodded. Carrot was still engrossed in reading the book titles, lips moving as he puzzled out 'Compendium'. That would keep him occupied for a while.
Then Death reached into the shelf— no, behind the shelf— no, in the shelf— and pulled out another book. This one not only dripped malice but also actual, literal shadows. They pooled on the floor around Death's feet, and Vimes edged away slightly before they could swallow his boots. The book was called:
M̷̛̹̍͊͊́̒a̴̧͓̹̰̘̭̋̑͊̀̎̐͗͐̕s̷̫̮͕̄̑̆͑̀̌͘͠t̴͎͇͇̀̓͑̅̊̊̈́͘͜͝ḝ̷̝̝̦̫͉̉͐͜ŕ̵̻̗̐̈́̂͗̎̏͋͆ḯ̸̡͇̜̥̙̻̻̙̏̓͜n̵̹̻͒͑͘̕g̸͕̠͛͂̈́̾̓̊͆̕ͅ ̷͈̍̈̽̈̄̋̀͑L̷̡̛̹̲͈̣̞̯̋͊͘í̸̱̼̜̗̋͛̋̈͘̚͠ḟ̷͖̺̖̥̥̐͠ę̷͎͈̻͇̱̮̳͆͆̔̑͝ ̸̥̪̹̈́̀̕ă̷̗̪ņ̴̗̹͔̜̙͑ͅd̴̻̩̉̑̓́̋ ̸̢̛̙̜͇̞̮̦̆̓ͅD̵̡̛̼͓͚̼̜͇̈̾e̷̹̙͋ą̷̭͉̬̂̍̿̑̀̀t̸̡͈͉͍͍̮̆́̌̃̀h̸̟͂̉̊͋̌̄̐͘͝
"I'd say that's it," said Carrot, cheerfully.
There was a card on the inside saying who had checked out the book last. The Librarian disappeared with an ook that promised bloody retribution, should the Watch give him a crack at the wizard who had bothered his book.
There, written on the checkout card, in precise, if slightly cramped handwriting: Wend Mulchgardner.
One of the— human— wizards, chosen for his proximity and ability to speak in complete sentences, when asked, shrugged. "Mulch is one of our newer students," he said. New, to the University, could mean many things, particularly considering the wizard they were speaking to looked to be upwards of a hundred years old. "Works as a secretary, mostly. Makes a good cuppa tea," said the wizard.
When released, the wizard, who was holding a large stack of books almost up to his hat, scurried off in the same direction he had been going.
They'd been compelled by way of Librarian stare to leave the book behind once more, but Vimes had given it a cursory look. There had been more than enough information of the forbidden type— Vimes guessed summoning the life-timers would be pretty easy once you'd figured out how to make the pages stop bleeding.
"It's odd, though, isn't it?" asked Carrot, as they searched out the student dormitories. "Why not summon Death hisself— sorry, sir— instead of just the hourglasses?"
Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʟɪғᴇ-ᴛɪᴍᴇʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ғɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, suggested Death. Oʀ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ sᴄʏᴛʜᴇs.
"Good point," Vimes said.
The student housing of the Unseen University was set diagonally from the Tower of Art, and close enough to the Great Hall that hungry students could wander down at any time of the day or night. A couple were doing just that as they walked by, some looking hung-over despite the way the sun still hung high in the sky and the fact that classes were presumably still in session. [5]
Like all colleges, the student dorms were obviously made in vastly different eras and for vastly different purposes, some of which were probably known only to the architects (if one was being generous). Through the hodge-podge of shapes, it was Death who finally spotted the three-floor building which served as Wend Mulchgardner's temporary housing.
It was called Apparition Cottage, and it was very ugly.
"Right," said Vimes. "Are we taking bets?"
"Patrol duty at the Bank," said Angua immediately. "I hate that gig."
"Sure, that's the stakes," said Vimes. "Front or back?"
"Front, sir," said Carrot. "He used his real name. Can't imagine he's a big thinker."
"I'll go for back," Angua said. "Everyone does back. It's a classic."
"I'm with Angua, sorry Carrot," said Vimes. "Death?"
I ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ.
"No bet, then. You'll see." Vimes waved Carrot and Angua off, and they split in opposite directions. "Guess you probably wouldn't fit in the Watch armor anyway. Come on."
Death followed him inside without complaining.
Vimes and Death jogged up the stairs to the second floor. It smelled like magic and tobacco, if cut with something else that a Watchman probably shouldn't know about.
Vimes knocked on the first door he saw. It opened after a moment, and a wizard poked his head out, sans hat. He was bleary-eyed, but straightened up in panic when he saw Vimes' shiny armor and badge. "Uh! Sir!"
Vimes fought back a smile. That just wouldn't do for a man's reputation, to be seen smiling.
"At ease," he said. "Do you know someone called Mulch?"
"Oh, yes! Sir! Just down in Room 9, sir!"
"Thanks," Vimes said. Down the hall— Vimes would guess in the direction of Room 9— a door slammed.
He was vaguely surprised when he turned and saw two wizards running, but not overly concerned. The students clearly knew the building better than he, splitting off in two directions at the end of the hall, which apparently branched off back to the stairs.
The one Vimes had been talking to inched his door shut.
Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?
"No need to run," said Vimes. "Though now no one wins the bet."
[5] This is a constant state of being for any college student in the multiverse. Legend says that a young man from Roundworld slipped his way through L-Space in the Library and attended a few classes. Then he went back home and fell asleep, never the wiser.
Carrot had collared the one at the front, and the poor kid looked terrified in the face of Carrot's benevolent menace.
"Got 'im, sir," Carrot said proudly. "Ran right into me, poor man."
"About that—" Vimes said, just as Angua swung around the corner with the other student, who looked just as petrified in the hands of someone who was less nice to her captive than Carrot was.
"Got 'im!" Angua said. "Both of you have to take my Bank watches— aw, damn."
"Two wizards," Vimes said as Angua brought the other one level with his friend. He leaned in close. The dark-haired one looked like he was about to burst into tears. Still got it, Sam. "Hi, kids," he said. "You'll have a lot of fun meeting a friend of mine. But first, we need some answers."
Rather than make the trek back to the Watch House, they brought the wizards back up to their apparently shared room.
Hᴏᴡ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴜɴ? asked Death.
"They always run," said Vimes, Carrot, and Angua at the same time, successfully scaring the snot out of both boys. Like everyone else they'd encountered, neither seemed able to see Death, but every so often they would glance roundabouts his direction with a sense of unspecific malaise.
"Hey, I recognize you," said Vimes, shouldering open the door. He squinted at the fair-haired one. "You let us in the gates a few days ago."
"Yessir," he mumbled. "I'm Wend— er, Mulch, the guys call me." He looked like he was trying desperately to grow into a real wizard. A little scruff of a blond beard was growing on his chin, and— Vimes squinted— he had put some kind of makeup in his eyebrows to make them thicker and more crazy-shaped. "This is Chelle."
"Oh, good, then you're who we're looking for," Angua said. "What did you want with M̷̛̹̍͊͊́̒a̴̧͓̹̰̘̭̋̑͊̀̎̐͗͐̕s̷̫̮͕̄̑̆͑̀̌͘͠t̴͎͇͇̀̓͑̅̊̊̈́͘͜͝ḝ̷̝̝̦̫͉̉͐͜ŕ̵̻̗̐̈́̂͗̎̏͋͆ḯ̸̡͇̜̥̙̻̻̙̏̓͜n̵̹̻͒͑͘̕g̸͕̠͛͂̈́̾̓̊͆̕ͅ ̷͈̍̈̽̈̄̋̀͑L̷̡̛̹̲͈̣̞̯̋͊͘í̸̱̼̜̗̋͛̋̈͘̚͠ḟ̷͖̺̖̥̥̐͠ę̷͎͈̻͇̱̮̳͆͆̔̑͝ ̸̥̪̹̈́̀̕ă̷̗̪ņ̴̗̹͔̜̙͑ͅd̴̻̩̉̑̓́̋ ̸̢̛̙̜͇̞̮̦̆̓ͅD̵̡̛̼͓͚̼̜͇̈̾e̷̹̙͋ą̷̭͉̬̂̍̿̑̀̀t̸̡͈͉͍͍̮̆́̌̃̀h̸̟͂̉̊͋̌̄̐͘͝?"
A little smoke poured out of her mouth and she coughed a ladylike cough before putting her hands on her hips and lifting her lips and snarling a little. "Well?"
Mulch screwed up his courage, apparently to the sticking point. "What, is it illegal to check out a book now? I go to school here."
Vimes watched him impassively, and both boys cowered. He turned to Angua, Carrot, and Death. "Well, they don't know anything," he said, taking out a cigar and lighting it. "Certainly we should give up now."
He jerked his head, and they adjourned to the other side of the room. It was a two-bedroom apartment-type room, and they were standing in what appeared to be the living room, kitchen, and repository for spellbooks and dirty socks.
"Something feels off about those two," said Carrot, frowning in thought. "I don't know if they have what it takes to steal from Death. They certainly don't seem paranoid enough for that, if anything else."
I ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ, said Death. Bᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ. Tʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴜʀᴀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.
"Maybe we try splitting them up," said Angua. "The little one— Chelle— hasn't said much. I'd bet he's involved. I smell fear on them both."
Tɪᴍᴇ ɪs ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ sʜᴏʀᴛ, Death said. Pᴀʀᴅᴏɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀʏ ᴘᴜɴ. Bᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇʀs ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ.
"We'll have to crack these two," said Vimes, puffing on his cigar.
"Sir," Carrot said, with a stern look on his face. "What would the Lady Sybil say?"
Vimes scowled and put it out. "I am your superior officer, Carrot."
"Yessir." Carrot was mostly incapable of doing anything with insincerity, but possibly that made it worse.
"For that, you two get the annoying one. I'll take the little guy."
Vimes sat in a chair across from Chelle, staring. They were in the living room, and Angua and Carrot had taken Mulch to one of the bedrooms for his little chat.
Chelle shifted in his seat.
Vimes kept staring.
Old Stoneface, they called him, when they thought his ears were turned away. Vimes didn't particularly mind the nickname, not when it was those skills precisely that scared the living hell out of young apprentice wizards.
Death stood at Vimes' shoulder.
Aʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs sᴏᴏɴ?
Vimes kept staring.
And staring.
"What?" Chelle burst out. "What do you want? We don't even know anything!"
"Let's play a game," said Vimes.
The dark-haired wizard looked apprehensive. "What kind of game?"
"'S called Prisn'r's Dilemma."
"And… what's the dilemma?"
"See, there's two of you," said Vimes, leaning forward.
The kid leaned forward too, subconsciously. "A-and?"
"And the dilemma is, do you want to go to the gallows with your teeth kicked in, or without?"
I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋs, said Death. As I ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇs ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘsʏᴄʜᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀɴᴅ sᴜᴄʜ. Pᴏssɪʙʟʏ ᴀ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇs ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʟʟᴏᴡs.
"Gallows?!" squeaked the boy. "Listen, it's not like that! It's not our fault! We only got the book and did the ritual."
"That sounds like the long and short of it to me," said Vimes, a little confused though he knew better than to admit that.
"No! See, we were hired…" Chelle trailed off, an odd look on his face.
Sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪs ᴡʀᴏɴɢ.
"What?" Vimes asked, turning to look at him, only to find that Death was staring at the kid.
Vimes turned back, only to see the apprentice wizard turning an alarming shade of reddish-purple.
"Commander!" shouted Angua from the other room, pushing the door open. "I don't know—"
Carrot dragged Mulch out of the other room, the wizard wheezing much the same as his friend. Neither sounded like breathing was technically happening where it should, and Vimes jumped to catch Chelle before he could hit the floor, laying him out flat and checking his airways.
"It's not natural, Commander," Angua said, kneeling down anxiously beside them. "It smells like the hourglasses— I think they're dying—"
Vimes looked up at Death for help— or at least a hint of which way they were going, only to find him still staring straight forward.
Tʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ.
And Death disappeared.
"That means they're not going to die?" asked Carrot, helping Mulch sit up in an apparent bid to help him breathe better. It didn't seem to work, purple fading to something much paler.
"I wouldn't bet on it," said Vimes, uneasy.
Within moments, it was finished. Both apprentice wizards were dead. It had not been pretty, but it had at least been quick.
"Bugger," Vimes said.