Author's Note: Okay, well, I wasn't actually going to post the Oh-Gods-The-Spells-Worn-Off bit (a.k.a. This Chapter) until I'd finished writing the whole thing but while this bit was really easy to write, I have almost total writer's block on the following section. So, I'm posting this in the hope that it'll jog something in my head and I'll actually be able to write more than one paragraph a night. Sigh.

Vimes looked around nervously at the sound of a scream and a loud crash coming from the Great Hall. He tapped on the door. "Er…are you alright in there, sir?" he called out, anxiously waiting for a reply. He groaned when none was forth-coming. "Oh gods, I really don't want to go in there," he muttered to himself. "Oh well, here goes--"

Suddenly the door opened. "That won't be necessary, Commander," said Vetinari in clipped tones. "I am quite well. Follow me, please." He set off down the corridor at a brisk pace.

"Is Mr Woodridge okay though, sir?"

"For the most part."

"Oh. Because you said you were going to--"

"That was because of a spell, Vimes."

"Whatever you say, sir," said Vimes, trying to hide his smile.

Vetinari stopped and whirled around to face the Watch Commander. "Yes, I do say, Vimes. And if you breathe one word of this evening's events to anyone, just one, I will personally redesign the Watch uniform so that you and your men end up wearing nothing but tights for the rest of your lives. Do I make myself clear?" he hissed.

"Yes sir."

"Good." The Patrician started walking again. "Go to Unseen University immediately and inform Archchancellor Ridcully that some of his students have been engaged in some serious misuses of magic against me. Then go to the High Energy Magic building in and arrest every student you find there."

"Yes sir. Good to have you back, sir," said Vimes with a smile.

"Really? I wasn't aware I ever left, Vimes," snapped the Patrician. "Once you've arrested them, bring them directly to my office. Now go."

"Yes sir." Vimes turned down a side corridor, fighting the impulse to laugh.

Vetinari frowned as he stalked his way back to his office, trying to list all the ways he was going to punish those responsible for his little tête-à-tête with Sidney. He'd just reached number 247 when he reached the corridor to his office. He stopped as he heard shouting and laughing coming from the area of the waiting room. Apprehensively he opened the door and peered in.

"Dance! Dance! Dance!" shouted Mr Sock excitedly, throwing his hands up in the air. "Wooooo!"

Mr Boggis threw what looked to Vetinari like a dollar coin at the dancing secretary. "Yeah, come on; put some gusto into it, boy!"

"Oh gods, make it stop," cried Drumknott, tears running down his face. "Why won't you people leave?" He jumped and turned in mid-air, wriggling various parts of his anatomy in accordance with the complicated routine he'd had to learn.

The huge smile on Mr Boggis' face grew even wider as Drumknott kicked up a leg and pulled off his shoe. "Gods, I love this bit," he shouted to Lord Downey.

"Me too," Downey shouted back. "Think he'll manage it this time?"

"I hope not!"

"Me neither!"

"A-hem." The sound of someone clearing their throat so discreetly should've been lost in a room full of shouting and screaming people but somehow Lord Vetinari managed to make himself heard above the din. He looked over the assembled Guild Leaders with a cold, calculating stare and raised an eyebrow. "What is going on here?"

Downey grinned at him. "We're just watching your secretary perform his little routine, your most excellently evil tyrannicalness."

The eyebrow rose so high it was in danger of colliding with the Patrician's hairline. "I believe 'my lord' will suffice, Lord Downey. Drumknott, get off your desk." The secretary breathed a sigh of relief and climbed down, wiping at his face hurriedly.

Downey frowned. "But I thought you wanted us to call you that? You said calling by your title didn't sound quite evil enough."

"I changed my mind," said Vetinari icily. "Now ladies, gentlemen, if you would kindly vacate my Palace; I have a great deal of work to be getting on with."

"But what about the new Guild names--"

"I said get out, Lord Downey."

As the assembled throng left the room, one voice could be heard grumbling above all the others. "Guess I'm not a general anymore then…"

Drumknott smiled hesitantly at Vetinari. "Thank you for that, sir. They'd been making me do that for the past half hour." He pulled at the half-empty cups of his bikini top; they jangled. "On the up-side though, I think I've made twelve dollars this evening."

"Good for you," said Vetinari, staring intently at the wall opposite him.

Drumknott's brow furrowed. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"You…er…you may want to rearrange your bikini pants, Drumknott."

Drumknott looked down and blushing furiously, turned and fixed the problem area. "Sorry about that, sir."

Vetinari smiled. "It's not your fault, Drumknott; they are a rather revealing cut aren't they?"

"Yes sir."

The Patrician nodded and opened the door to his office. He looked up at the portrait. "Oh dear gods…how many people have seen that?"

"Um, well, you, sir…me….Leonard, obviously…Commander Vimes…oh, and one of the maids came in here yesterday while I was filing but we won't be able to establish how much of it she remembers until she regains consciousness."

"Regains consciousness?"

"She fainted, sir."

"Oh," Vetinari looked at the painting thoughtfully. "Did she faint in a good way?"

"Sir?"

Vetinari waved a hand. "Never mind. Now, I want you to prepare to draft several clacks to the Low King, General Ashal, Prince Khufuruh and our operatives in Al-Khali; I want to get this Klatchian situation sorted out as soon as possible." He paused; something was bothering him. "Drumknott, why are you all shiny?"

The secretary blushed. "Oh, it's…er…it's because of the baby oil, sir." He saw the inquiring look on Vetinari's face and shrugged, jangling slightly. "Mr Boggis insisted, sir."

"Ah." Vetinari smiled slightly as he leaned over his desk and wrote down some notes on a piece of paper. "Commander Vimes should be arriving here soon with some prisoners; before he does I need you to go out and get a few things. Oh, and be sure to put on your regular clothing first--"

Drumknott burst into tears again and leapt at the Patrician, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, sir! You don't know how happy this makes me! I can wear clothes aaagaaiinn!" he wailed into Vetinari's shoulder before descending into nothing but sobs.

Vetinari squirmed uncomfortably in Drumknott's embrace; contrary to the rumours constantly circulating the city, he wasn't accustomed to being hugged by half-naked young men covered in baby oil. He patted Drumknott tentatively on the shoulder. "There, there," he said awkwardly.

It seemed to do the trick; Drumknott sniffed and loosened his grip on the Patrician. "Sorry about that, sir; it's just been a really stressful couple of days."

Vetinari smiled at him warily, ready to duck behind his desk in case another hug was forthcoming. "No explanation needed, Drumknott." He held out the list. "Just hurry back with these, please."

"Yes sir." Drumknott turned to leave but paused halfway. "Sir, can I just try something first, please?"

"Yes, yes, whatever you want, Drumknott." said Vetinari, only half-listening as he looked through some of the assorted paperwork on his desk. He looked up with a frown. "Try what?"

"This, sir."

Vetinari watched his secretary launch back into his dance routine with a bemused look. Within a minute though the look had turned into one of abject horror and by the time Drumknott had finished the routine, Lord Vetinari's fingers had turned white from digging them into the walnut of the desk in an effort not to run screaming from the room.

Drumknott smiled. "There, I knew I could do it in the end, sir. I even got the bit with the sock right, didn't I?"

Vetinari nodded his head shakily; suddenly he felt the need to sit down and have several large drinks. "Yes, you did, Drumknott." He managed a weak smile. "Don't ever do that in front of me again."