Chapter 8: What's the name of the game

It was quarter past ten in the morning. Normally, he would have finished going through the mail by now, instructed Drumknott as to which citizens would find themselves with appointments that day and perused a considerable number of special, or at least almost special, reports. Instead he was squatting on an insanely patterned beach blanket, dressed in trousers that didn't even cover his knees, and with a coconut between his feet. He sighed.

Out in the shallow waters that surrounded Aloaoey Island, his wife was splashing about with a group of be Trobi women, all of whom were wearing bi-skin-knees. Angelina's first appearance in her self-designed beach wear had caused quite a stir among the villagers, and soon she was making the things by the dozen for her new friends. Vetinari was grateful for this, because it saved him a certain amount of embarrassment during encounters with the local females.

He turned his attention to the coconut and gave it an experimental prod with a dagger. The soft, almost fabric-like appearance of the surface was deceptive; he could not make the slightest dent in it. He regarded it intently. There were three dark round dimples at one end, giving the coconut the look of a baffled fish. He tried to thrust the dagger into one of those indentations. It went in up to the point where the blade widened and then sat on the edge of the dimple. He pulled it out with a jerk.

Laughter pealed across from the bathing women. When he glanced over, the group was visibly reduced and Angelina nowhere to be seen. He rose from his blanket. With a splatter Angelina surfaced, followed by a handful of islanders. Seconds later he saw her disappear under the water again.

He looked around. Small outcrops of volcanic rock punctuated the beach here and there, and one of them peeped out of the sand not twenty yards away. He walked over and whacked the coconut against the rock. There seemed to be no immediate effect. He returned to his seat. After careful inspection he found that a miniscule crack had appeared along one side of the shell. He inserted the dagger into the crack and tried to use it as a lever. With a faint but defiant little noise, the tip of the blade broke off.

The noises of a swimmer wading ashore made him look up. Angelina was approaching, wringing the water out of her hair.

"Why don't you join us for a dive? It's a whole new world under water. You should see those colours, they are amazing!"

"I'd rather not."

"Oh, come on, the water is lovely! A little sea-bathing would set you up forever."

With a nonchalant movement of his hand, Vetinari put the coconut behind his back. "What do you mean?"

Angelina frowned in puzzlement.

"I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to say." 1)

She knelt down beside him. Salty water dripped on the blanket.

"Kamauri says her second cousin says there might not be another ship to Ankh-Morpork for at least two months."

"I don't want to rely on the island grapevine any longer. I will go to Uyoiyahuoi harbour as soon as I find somebody to take me across. Come with me or stay here, whichever you prefer."

"I'll stay. I can forgo a marine excursion at the moment."

Vetinari regarded her glistening skin and soaking clothes.

"I would never have guessed."

Giggling and shaking water out of their hair, the other women had drawn close. They stood in a semi-circle around Vetinari and Angelina, laughing, chattering, adjusting their wet bi-skin-knees. Suddenly, one of them stooped and seized the coconut, held it up high and said something in Trob that caused much mirth among her friends.

"You want this open?" Kamauri said to Vetinari.

She gestured for them to get off the blanket, then she took the coconut and placed it in the centre of the cloth. With a smug grin she picked it up by the four corners. In this impromptu sling she took it over to the volcanic outcrop, swung it round over her shoulder a few times and then smashed it against the rock. Tremendous hilarity among her friends greeted her triumph. Vetinari averted his eyes. There was nothing he could do about these women. He had tried the eyebrow on them once and the resulting laughter had kept ringing in his ears even in his dreams.

1) Which just goes to show that once established, internarrative references are hard to stop.

oOoOo

The weather in Ankh-Morpork, alas, did not invite the donning of beach wear, and even if it had, only the seriously suicidal would have considered a dip in the river. Naked feet were likewise unadvisable, for reasons as manifold as the sources of Harry King's wealth. It was therefore hardly surprising that Commander Vimes arrived at Pseudopolis Yard in heavy boots and an even heavier coat.

He greeted the duty sergeant in the front room and stomped up the stair to his office. A small fire crackled amiably in the grate. Vimes sank into his chair and surveyed his desk. Apparently A.E. Pessimal had already been at work, for the topmost sheet in his in-tray bore a small, pink self-adhesive note with the neatly printed words: "For your immediate attention." He picked it up and read it. Then he seized the speaking tube and called for Captain Carrot.

The dwarf 2) appeared, filling the room with the scent of soap and armour polish. Vimes gestured towards the report.

"How did you do it?"

"Sir?"

Vimes waved the paper at him.

"How did you get him to confess? He was as stubborn as a Hershebean ass when I spoke to him."

"I read him his rights, sir. And then he confessed."

"That was it?"

"Yes, sir."

Carrot's features were impenetrable. Vimes looked at him warily and then shrugged. He had long ago given up trying to figure out the Captain's hold on people's minds. Carrot was a rebus wrapped in a crossword inside a brainteaser, or something like that. He returned his attention to the report. Silver had admitted that he and his accomplice Bob Shafto had abandoned the Vetinaris deliberately, in fulfilment of an informal, but lucrative contract with a mysterious stranger.

" 'A tall woman, wrapped up in a long grey cloak.' Is that all?"

"Apparently he couldn't see her face because of the hat."

"That's not enough to go by. There must be more. Come."

He led the way down to the cells. Silver had been dozing and sat up with a start when he heard the keys rattling. He winced at the sight of Carrot. Vimes weighed him up in his mind. Average chap, really, just trying to make ends meet. That sort can be decent enough, until greed kicks in. Then they are cunning and unscrupulous, but also not very bright. A brighter man would have thought twice about the risks involved in dumping the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork in the Circle Sea.

"Good morning, Tall John," growled Vimes. "Don't bother getting up. I only have one little question for you. Oh, Captain Carrot is just accompanying me today for training purposes. So, tell me, Mr Silver, what was she like, the elusive lady who gave you all those lovely Rhinus?"

"She was tall."

"And?"

"She wore a grey coat. All the way down to her ankles."

"Mr Silver, I'm looking for a little bit more information here. What did she look like? Hair, teeth, nose, skin colour? You must be able to give some sort of description."

The prisoner shrugged.

"I've already told him," he glanced at Carrot, "that I couldn't see her properly because of her hat. It was almost down to her chin."

"There must be something. What about her tone of voice, her manner of walking? Give me a clue, Mr Silver!"

John Silver shook his head.

"All I can say is that she was very tall and smelled of lilies."

Bull's-eye!

"Are you sure it was lilies?"

"Yes, I'm sure," said Silver sulkily. "I remember the smell from my old granny's funeral."

"Fair enough, Mr Silver, that will do for now."

2) Technically. Sizeist remarks are discouraged.

oOoOo

Ka'adburi Ba enjoyed the leisurely afternoons with Lord Vetinari. It pleased him greatly to entertain such an illustrious man. With care had he positioned the table on the veranda in front of his hut, plumped the cushions in the two cane chairs, filled a jug with palm wine and a bowl with lotus petals. Most importantly, he had set up the Nohuihuinono board. It was a large board, thirty by thirty squares, to accommodate at least some of the shorter words of the Trob language. In deference to his guest, though, they played in Morporkian. Occasionally they would exchange a few words, but most of the time nothing was heard but the clicking of the tiles and the scribbling of the pencil. Vetinari kept the score. They had spent many afternoons in this manner, but the Alibi had not yet won a single game. Not that he minded. He nibbled a lotus petal.

H-E-R-M-E-T-I-C (26)

D-A-N-C-I-N-G (18)

F-I-G-G-I-N-S (24)

P-U-M-P-K-I-N (19)

K-A-Z-O-O (22)

Vetinari had scored over twenty points again with a five letter word. How did he do it? Ka'adburi Ba squinted at the fifteen letters in front of him. Sweat trickled gently down his back.

C-U-C-U-M-B-E-R-S

Not really great, only seventeen points. He sighed.

A-S-S-A-S-S-I-N-A-T-I-O-N

Rats, his lordship had just scored forty-five points. Blasted triple word scores! Never mind.

A-N-D-W-I-C-H, he added to the word "cucumbers". That took him onto the double word score.

"You cannot put that," said Vetinari.

"Why not?"

"It's two words."

"It isn't! Cucumbersandwich, one word."

"No, it's two."

"I'm sure it's hyphenated."

"It isn't, and even if it was, hyphenated words are not permitted."

Grumbling, Ka'adburi Ba settled for S-W-I-T-C-H-E-D. He was a peace-loving man, and after this confrontation, he felt that a bit of small talk was in order.

"So a rubber shipment is expected for next week? You'd better make the most of your remaining time here."

Q-U-E-S-T-I-O-N-A-B-L-E

"Do you want to visit the Orohai peninsula?"

"I don't know. Why would we?"

"Strangers always want to see the sponge eating pigmies. The coral houses look very quaint, too. Lotus petal?"

"No, thank you."

Ka'adburi Ba picked up a handful of letters and placed them on the board.

Q-U-I-N-T-A-N-T

"That's not a word," said Vetinari.

"Yes, it is. It is a navigation instrument."

"That would be a sextant, not a quintant."

"Here we use a quintant. Navigation works differently this close to the rim. Twenty-four points."

"I won't score it. It's not a word."

"I am telling you it is!"

"Show me the dictionary then."

"You know very well we don't have a dictionary."

"That is your problem. I am not accepting a made-up word."

The Alibi clenched his fist. Then he tilted his head to look at a different corner of the board. Eventually, he swept his last word off the table and put down another.

T-A-N-T-A-L-I-Z-E

"Are you happy now?"

"My emotional state is irrelevant to this situation. You score thirty-one points."

D-E-C-L-I-N-E (17)

C-O-C-O-N-U-T (18)

E-S-C-A-P-E-D (22)

K-I-S-S-I-N-G (15)

I-N-D-I-S-C-R-E-E-T (24)

"Are there any left in the bag?" asked the Alibi.

"Yes, seven."

"You know how many?"

"Don't you?"

Ka'adburi Ba sighed. He wouldn't put it past the man to keep track of how many letters were out on the board. In fact, he was aware that Lord Vetinari was as superior to himself in intellect and efficiency as an albatross is superior to a duck in wingspan and grace. No wonder the man had ruled Ankh-Morpork. He didn't even sweat! And yet he had been taken in by a woman. That at least Ka'adburi Ba had avoided carefully all his life. He smiled to himself and nibbled some more lotus. When it turned out that Vetinari's final score came to over seven hundred, the Alibi raised his glass of palm wine and toasted his guest without a trace of envy.

oOoOo

Breaking into the Assassin's Guild wasn't as difficult as one might expect, at least not for someone who had been a pupil there. Among any group of young men confined in a building at night, there is always an abundance of reasons that urgently require their absence from the dormitories. The location of convenient alternatives to the front entrance is the kind of information that tends to stick in the memories of the alumni.

Constantin slipped up a staircase and along the corridor to the east wing. The Head of the Assassins Guild had his apartments on the second floor. There were no guards - any assassin unable to see to his own safety deserved whatever he was getting.

Lord Downey occupied three rooms leading off the landing by the north stair of scorpion house. Constantin was making for the bedroom door, when he perceived the faint shimmer of light from under the study door.

Noiselessly, he knelt down in front of the door. He took a goose feather out of his pocket and swept it along under the door. When he pulled it out again, the tip had been shorn off. Next he inserted a slim tube of rolled-up paper into the keyhole. The faintest hissing sound was heard. Constantin extracted the paper tube. It was soaked in a pale green liquid. He nodded grimly. If he had been foolish enough to put his eye to the keyhole, he would now be looking at a future with a black patch on his face. From another pocket he produced a small metal tube, which was, in fact, a miniature periscope. He inserted it into the key hole and peeped through the end.

It took him a few moments to make sense of what he was seeing. Then he began to discern curtains, the fireplace, items of furniture. He moved the periscope around gingerly until he found Downey. The head assassin stood by a heavy oak bookcase with a large volume in his hands and his back to the door.

Constantin considered his next move. The door would be unlocked. It was always unlocked. The day the Head of the Assassins Guild felt he had to lock his door would be the day he might as well eat his own almond cake. There was no point in waiting. Any second, Downey might close his book and look towards the door. It was now or never. Constantin turned the handle and slipped into the room.

The first thing he noticed was that the space in front of the bookcase was quite empty. 3) The second thing he became aware of with unpleasant urgency was the sharpness of a blade against his throat, a trick which he very much preferred to play on other people rather than vice versa. How the head assassin could have possibly moved so quickly was a mystery. But he evidently had, because the voice that now spoke belonged unmistakably to Lord Downey.

"Not bad, not bad. Young Greenaway, isn't it? Nine out of ten, my lad. I barely heard you coming." He released his grip on Constantin. The younger assassin stepped back cautiously, but Lord Downey laughed and patted him on the shoulder. He walked over to his desk and eased himself into his armchair.

"Sit down, Greenaway. Would you care for an almond slice?"

"Thank you, sir, I had a good supper."

"Fair enough." Downey leaned back in his chair. "Now, Greenaway, I am intrigued. I didn't think you were one for doing contract work."

"I'm not on a contract, sir."

"You aren't? My dear Greenaway, this can hardly be a practice assignment. You graduated, what, five years ago?"

"Seven."

"Really? Well, doesn't time fly. So what brings you here then? No contract, no assignment. I doubt that you just wanted a little chat with your old principal. Out with it, man!"

Constantin drew breath. How could he explain? Elaborate lies were not his forte. So the easiest thing to do was probably telling the truth.

"Sir, it is ... I ... that is to say, I was trying to find out... I want to know what has really happened to the Vetinaris. I don't believe his lordship would just have an accident like that. It would be so completely unlike him. And I don't believe this bit in the paper about Miss Winter going hysterical, either. I've spend a lot of time watching Miss Winter, and I just can't imagine her behaving that way. I think somebody staged this. At first I thought of Rust, but it wasn't him."

"How do you know?"

"I paid him a little visit, and if there had been anything he could have told me, I'm sure he would not have kept it to himself. So I was wondering who else could have a motive..."

Downey tutted.

"And so you've decided to creep up on me and tickle a confession out of me? In my own office? Bad style, Greenaway. I agree with you, though. I don't believe Vetinari just had an accident. Somebody did away with him. But it astonishes me that you think it would be me. What is the motto of the Assassin's Guild, Greenaway?"

"Nil Mortifi Sine Lucre, sir," said the schoolboy in Constantin promptly.

"Indeed. No exceptions, not even for me. The only people in Ankh-Morpork who could afford to have Vetinari inhumed are the Duke and Duchess of Ankh, and believe me, they are pretty much the least likely to want him dead. Furthermore, just dumping somebody in a boat without a paddle and involving their wife, too - what kind of style is that? No, Greenaway, this was the act of an amateur."

Constantin sighed. Imagination was not his strong side and he couldn't think of another suspect. At least he seemed to have an ally now.

"What are you going to do about it, sir?"

"Nothing of course."

"But Rust is making such a mess of things!"

Downey's face showed the faintest hint of a smirk.

"I won't pay you for inhuming him, Greenaway, if that is the thought I can see passing through your mind."

"Sir! I don't know what to do. His lordship - Lord Vetinari, I mean, would be devastated, if he saw the state of the city. There are people leaving, sir!"

"Don't fret, Greenaway. Lord Rust is only Acting Patrician. When the legal waiting period is over, Vetinari will be declared dead," - Constantin flinched at this - "and a permanent Patrician will be officially elected. I will make sure that a more suitable candidate will be chosen."

"Do you have somebody in mind?"

"I do indeed." Downey drummed his fingers on the desk and looked musingly at the fireplace. "Oh, yes, I do."

3) Which does not mean completely empty as, say, the vast expanses of outer space. There were, for example, ample numbers of dust mites happily munching away in the carpet. But "quite empty" or rather, "specifically empty" was an accurate enough description of the absence of any person.

oOoOo

Angelina raked the sand on the floor of the hut and sang to herself. When Vetinari appeared in the door, she stopped in both these activities and gave him a welcoming smile. He kissed her casually on the cheek and sat down. It was a fascinating, but also slightly disturbing fact that when Lord Vetinari sat down on a basket chair, it didn't creak. Angelina resumed her raking.

"You never sing when I am around," said Vetinari.

"Of course not. Why would I antagonize you with something you dislike?"

"That is very considerate of you, but don't you think it lacks spirit? You should try to convince me and make me give up my prejudice against performed music."

"Oh, is it a prejudice then?"

"I am sure you think it is."

"Well, I can tolerate it. And I don't think I could convince you otherwise. It's not as if I am such a great musician. I'm just a devoted amateur, not like..." She broke off.

"Not like who?" demanded Vetinari.

"Oh, nothing. You know what, Taihameme gave me some lovely fish that I can grill for dinner, and..."

"Angelina! Don't distract. You are not like who?"

"Look, Havelock, it's really not important."

Vetinari came over to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"I shall be the judge of that. I think I know what you were going to say. You were referring to Dame Gina Dulci, weren't you?"

"Hmm."

She turned her head away to avoid his eyes, but he framed her face in his hands and forced her to look at him.

"Well?"

"Henry said you had an affair with her," she said quietly. "He said...he said that you had quite a collection of illustrious ladies."

"What difference would that make? I married you."

Angelina cast down her eyes and sighed pathetically.

"Listen, Angelina. There is no collection of illustrious ladies. I did have an affair with Dame Gina Dulci, but it didn't last long, because on closer acquaintance I was not very impressed with her. I couldn't stand her any more than the other women who have thrown themselves at me over the years. 4) It happened before I met you and I haven't thought of her since. You have less reason to be jealous of her than I would have to be jealous of your friend Mr Fawler, whom I wish well enough to hope that he has not donned a blue coat and jumped off a bridge."

At this, she smiled briefly.

"But who am I, compared to such a glamorous woman?"

He sighed and stroked her cheek.

"Lady Vetinari, you are The One. Haven't I promised in front of all the Disc to love you and none other?"

"But why, why me?"

"I might ask you the same question. And yet I am satisfied to think that my charms were irresistible to you. Do not frown at me, it suits you ill. You should be contented that I gave you my word and my hand."

"Oh, well. I know. It's petty of me to mind. I just keep thinking it is unfair that she should have such a splendid voice and a piece of your heart. I am sorry. I shouldn't bother you with my silly notions. Well, I didn't want to say, but you are always so...so forceful."

Vetinari released her and walked away to the door of the hut, where he stood with his back to her, looking out onto the ocean.

"Maybe it does matter," he said after a while. "We are stripped here, Angelina, stripped right down to the marrow. We have no role, no status, no conventions. Only each other, and it would seem fit that we take a good look at the people we really are. Who are you without your flute and your friends and your test tubes? Who am I without my city?"

"Well, what do you think?" she asked when the silence had lasted longer than she felt comfortable with. He shrugged.

"I am trying to decide what I think. I look at you and I think there is not much change in you. You are as sincere and affectionate as ever. But myself? I don't know. For decades I have been a man with a single purpose."

"The city," she said quietly.

"The city. I was brought up with the city on my mind. My family had been the most influential in Ankh-Morpork for generations, but for some reason or other, no Vetinari had ever been Patrician. My grandfather failed to get the guild leaders on his side. My father quite likely would have succeeded Windler, had he lived to see the day, but of course he didn't. So it fell to me. I owed it to my father, and in a way to my brother, too. It was simply a responsibility at first, but over the years the Patricianship took over my entire being. Everything was always about the city, not about people. It is not that I didn't care about people, but they were just that - a responsibility. I never seemed to know anybody who was important to me. When you came along and inched your way into the heart I allegedly don't possess, it was a major challenge. I was concerned how I would manage to be a man of two purposes. But as it turned out, I would now be a man of no purpose at all, if it wasn't for you."

"We will get back," she said softly, considering how tactful it was of him not to mention the fact that he wouldn't be in his present predicament if it wasn't for her. She had come up beside him, slipped her hand into his and leaned her head against his arm.

"That is your purpose now, to get back and pick up again from where you've left off."

"You don't really think it will be as easy as that? What will I find, if ever I get back? It has taken so long, Angelina, so long to get things working well. It could all be chaos by now. Even in the best case, if Vimes is in charge. He will not betray the city, but he will make so many mistakes. And it could be a lot worse than Vimes. Patrician Boggis, Patrician Selachii. They would have no scruples to bend everything to their personal profit. Years and years of patient work would be destroyed in weeks. Of course, there could be a King Carrot. In that case I am finished. The city might do well under King Carrot, at least for a while, but for Lord Vetinari there would be no return."

"Would they not wait for you?"

"Not for very long."

She looked out over the beach. The sun was setting leisurely behind the island. Palm trees cast long shadows that stretched as far as the water, but further out at sea light still glittered on the waves. Here and there along the shore, fires had been lit and the sound of singing and merry laughter drifted over to the hut. To the be Trobi, every night was a party.

"Perhaps," said Angelina, "there doesn't have to be a purpose. I think you would be wise not to define yourself either through me or the city. There must be something about you, something that makes you know who you are without reference to anything outside yourself. Try to think back to a time when your life wasn't so entwined with the city. Think back to the boy who was so beloved by his mother and father."

For an instant, she felt Vetinari's body tense. Then he sighed.

"Ah, the unconditional love of our parents. But dear Angelina, one should not depend on that too much, because it dies with them and cannot be repeated."

"And yet there is a love even greater than that of a parent for a child. I have seen it. The love of someone who has never known a world without you. A selfish love, perhaps, or so some might say, but nevertheless a love so complete and so unquestioning - such a someone would require nothing else of you than that you just are."

He made no reply. Fearing that she had said too much, she slipped away from him and strode down to the beach, along towards the far end of the bay. Friendly voices greeted her from the firesides, shouting invitations to join them for fried fish and palm wine, but she only waved in a vague manner and marched on. Soon she had left the village behind. Twilight surrounded her and the sounds of merriment faded away. She slowed her steps and sat down in the sand, which was still warm from the heat of the day. Scooping it up with her hands and letting it run through her fingers, she struggled against the darkness she felt welling up inside her.

It wasn't true that she was unchanged. To be sure, she was cheerful and jolly, because that was the way of things on be Trobi, and she did what she could to make herself feel at ease. But an island was just a larger kind of boat, still surrounded by the ocean, with nowhere to run and no way home. Never before had she been so completely cut off from the lifeline that had nurtured her throughout all her years. Never before had she been at the mercy of someone whom she, as it was only now becoming apparent to her, hardly knew. And she depended on him, oh, how she depended on him!

"Mama," she whispered, "Mama, Papa, I am still alive."

It was fully dark when Vetinari found her. Seeing that she had fallen asleep, he extinguished his lamp and lay down in the sand beside her.

4) This included the sad case of Miss Heptarina Doublescotch, who threw herself at his lordship from a fourth floor window.