Chapter 1

When Sam opened his eyes he found himself surrounded by golden corn, moving softly in a breeze he could not feel. The sky was black. And Vetinari was still there, stirring softly in his arms as if to protest against Sam's growing suspicion that he had indeed fallen asleep there. Finally, the Patrician lifted his head and looked around in mild interest.

"Well," he noted after a few moments. "Not quite what I had expected."

Sam grunted. "Don't tell me you actually had plans for this?"

"Of course I had. I was rather hoping for white clouds and angels with harps," Vetinari said with an expression so blank that Vimes needed a few seconds to realise the man was joking.

"I doubt you would fit in there," he said.

"I imagine few people would."

"And even fewer would want to, if there is a risk of meeting you in that place." Being overly careful with what to say made no sense anymore, Sam decided. What should the guy do about it, anyway? Fire him?

"One more reason to like it," said Vetinari calmly. Sam shrugged. No point in arguing with that.

Beside him Vetinari untangled his long limbs and stood up. "Hm," he said.

Vimes followed his example and got to his feet as well. The landscape they fond themselves in presented itself in general shades of black – the golden fields being the only exception. About two hundred meters away, the fields ended and Sam could make out a house in the distance – it was black – some trees – black – and something that looked like a blooming garden. The latter was too far away to see any details, but if there were indeed flowers there, Sam was willing to speculate on their colour. Vetinari, he thought sourly, fit into these surroundings perfectly. Still, compared to before it was an improvement.

"And where are we now?" he asked no one in particular. All this still felt rather weird to him. He had always imagined being a little more insubstantial when dead, but when he reached down he felt the corn between his fingers and where they had sat the ears were bend and flat.

"How about we go and find out?" said Vetinari and began to move towards the house, leaving Vimes not choice but to follow or, well, not. He did follow, mainly because of the lack of alternative. In the distance he now noticed quite a lot of high mountains in the colour of - surprise, surprise – black.

"You sure you didn't have anything to do with the creation of this place?" he asked, mindlessly trampling down the plants in front of him. "The colour suits you."

"Pretty sure," said his former boss without turning. "I would have left out the corn."

Vimes snorted. There the bastard was, back in his old sarcastic self. It dawned to Sam that whatever state he had seen him in earlier, it was over. Another improvement, definitely. Seeing Vetinari so… defeated had unsettled him more than he would ever be willing to admit.

The silence that followed gave Sam for the first time a chance to really think about his situation. He couldn't quite decide what was worse: being dead, confused and all alone, or being dead, confused and with Vetinari. And while he stared grumpily at the narrow back in front of him his thoughts travelled back to the real world and for the first time he felt some emotions connected with the life he had left behind. Again he wondered if Sybil and his little son were still alive and well. Had they been able to flee the city, or did they, just like him, wander through a weird landscape in the company of their worst nightmare?

He smirked at that and thought that probably he was being unfair here. After all, he could have gotten worse company, couldn't he? Lord Rust, for example. Or Nobby's undergarments. After so many years connected to a body like that, he was sure they had developed a life of their own…

"Do you have any idea who lives here?" he asked just to break the silence that lasted much too heavy on this place.

"Yes."

"Yes?" Same echoed, surprised. "Ah. And when did you plan on telling me?"

Vetinari had reached the black house and stopped in front of a black door that looked like a servant entrance. "Hm?" he asked, as if he had been in deep thought and only now realised Vimes' question. "What makes you think I was going to tell you?"

Vimes only stared at him in response. Yes, that was Havelock Vetinari as he remembered him. He knew for sure because he felt a sudden urge to strangle the man.

"There doesn't appear to be a doorbell," he said after a while when he could think of nothing better to respond. "Seems like we'll have to knock."

Vetinari smiled. "I imagine he doesn't have people knocking at his door very often," he said. "But I doubt he is home right now. I also doubt that this door is locked."

Sam tried the doorknob and it turned without resistance. The door swung open noiselessly and he frowned inwardly. The part of him that was labeld 'Watchman' was unwilling to accept that anyone would leave a house unlocked while away, even in a weirdly-spooky place like this.

"As I said, I don't think many people would come here by choice," Vetinari said as if he had read Vimes' mind – a possibility he wasn't going to rule out completely. "Besides," the Patrician added as he walked past Sam and into the house, "if the owner isn't home, it doesn't have to mean that the house is empty."

"What do you mean?" asked Sam, or at least intended to ask. Actually, he only said "What do y…" before he was stopped. In front of him Vetinari suddenly stepped aside in a motion so fast Vimes couldn't even see it and out of the corner of his eye he noticed a movement that resulted in the world going black before he could even finish the third word. He thought he heard an audible 'Thud' when something hard and heavy hit his skull.

When the light came back, he found himself lying in the doorway. "Fascinating," a voice said. "Dead and still able to get knocked out. I must say, Sir Samuel, that you never case to surprise me."

Vimes muttered something unfriendly and took the offered hand. A sharp pain shot through his head when Vetinari pulled him to his feet, and the other man lifted an eyebrow as he winced.

"Really, Vimes, I would have expected your reactions to be a bit faster than that."

"They would have been faster, had I not been so busy stabbing mental daggers into your back," Vimes muttered under his breath. Vetinari tilted his head.

"Maybe it would have helped if you had used your mental resourced for something more useful, like paying attention to your surroundings," he said, unimpressed. Once again, Sam wished for a knife.

"What hit me, anyway?" When he looked around, he saw it. A few steps away, a man was sprawled out on the dark floor, apparently knocked out as well. An old man, Sam noted. Old and skinny. Beside him lay something that looked suspiciously like a wooden ladle. The Duke of Ankh rubbed the back of his acing head. Now this was embarrassing…

"Who's that?" he asked, hoping that his face wasn't quite as red as he thought it was.

He never found out if Vetinari would have had an – useful – answer to that question, because just then another player entered the stage. Sam could feel his presence before he could see him, and when he spoke his voice sounded like the door of a cathedral falling shut in a deep hole.

WHAT, he said, IS GOING ON HERE?

---

Death was not altogether pleased with the situation. First the biggest city on the whole disk got destroyed which resulted in quite a lot of work, then the fabric of reality more or less began to disintegrate, and when he returned home, he found his house invaded by dead people. Death did not fall victim to moods, because you needed a functionating body to develop something like that, but had he had a mood right now it would not have been a good one.

He had demanded for them to explain how they had gotten here and the grumpy looking man with the ruffled hair demanded the same of him. Death had to admit that he was mildly confused; he was used to the souls of the dead disappearing after he did his job, or go to whatever place they thought they should end up in. He was not used to them coming to his house, looking very solid, and knocking Albert out.

"I understand that this is not a usual turn of events," said the tall, dark haired man after they all had calmed down a bit and settled down in the kitchen.

NO. YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.

"We don't actually want to be here, you know." The man called Vimes wore an expression on his face normal humans only got by chewing lemons for at least an hour. From what Death had heard of the events taking place before his arrival, he had been greeted by Albert with a ladle – Albert, who was right now sitting beside the stove, pressing an ice-filled towel against his head. He did not appear to be very happy with the company – his expression was actually rivalling Vimes'. They glared at each other like children ready to get into a fight.

But for now they were ignored. Vetinari looked very thoughtful for a moment, before he glanced at Death over steepled fingers.

"Do you know what exactly is happening?" he asked solemnly.

Death thought for a moment. Not about the question but whether or not to answer it. Those men certainly were not to blame for this situation. But he was still not in a good mood and they were still mere humans, who had no rights in this place. Yet, something about this man told him that being stubborn would not be a good idea right now, human or not.

NO, he said. THINGS ARE NOT AS THEY SHOULD BE, BUT I DON'T KNOW THE CAUSE.

"What exactly is different?"

A lot. Usually, Death knew the future, because he remembered it. But now the future he remembered did hot happen. The fall of Ankh-Morpork had never been part of it, and a lot of people had died before they should have. And some weren't as dead as they should be. And were in a place they should not have been in…

COME WITH ME, he offered after a while. I'LL SHOW YOU.

---

The room was dark and endless, the boards on the walls crowded with countless hourglasses. Sand was running through them, falling constantly from future to past. Their soft sound filled the room like the acoustic version of a shroud.

Vetinari walked along the boards slowly while Death waited in the doorway. In the faint light he read the names of the beings whose lives these glasses represented, watched their time pass away in front of his eyes. It didn't take long for him to notice what exactly it was Death wanted him to see.

All these hourglasses were almost empty.

---

In the kitchen Sam was having a good time. After everyone whose presence could give him the creeps had left, he had spend some time fighting with the old man called Albert. They fought with words only, naturally, because they were grown men and they were civilised and because Sam didn't have a dagger. It had been nice. Arguing with Vetinari was pointless, and Death, it seemed, was even worse in this regard, so both of them enjoyed the opportunity to get rid of some boiling emotions. Afterwards, Albert invited Sam for dinner.

Only then did Vimes realise how hungry he was. Another thing that stroke him as rather odd, because there was hardly a chance of starving anymore, but he put that thought aside when he was presented with a meal entirely of his liking.

Albert wasn't too great a cook – his food was burned and in one word unhealthy, but Sybil's food had been like that all the time and Sam already found himself missing it. He had always liked her food; all those weird stuff the rich and noble usually ate had remained a mystery to him until the day he died, and beyond. He liked burned potatoes and meat with the consistence of old boots and Albert did his best not to disappoint him.

But the meal brought back memories of his family, and once again he decided to ask Death about their fate once he came back. If he wouldn't forget about it, that is. Again.

The door opened, but Death remained absent.

"He's gone to look something up," explained Vetinari, when he sat down beside Vimes. "He might have some answers for us soon."

"Oh, great," said Sam with a mouth full of food. "I also have some questions for him."

"I thought so." Albert offered some potatoes and Vetinari politely turned them down. "The world is ending, it seems." Sam nearly chocked.

"What do you mean, 'the world is ending'?"

"I mean, that all life on the disk is going to end. With the exception, perhaps, of some plants and animals. I did not check that out, I admit. Could I have a glass of water, please?"

Vimes found himself staring once again as he tried to grasp the meaning behind those words.

"You are joking," he finally decided.

"No. I think not." Vetinari took a sip from the water Albert had given him with an expression of I-worry-for-this-person's-mental-health. He and Vimes shared a look.

"You mean," Sam then said, just to make it clear, "that the world is going to end and everyone is going to die?"

"Indeed."

"Oh. And you say that just like that, totally unimpressed?"

"So it seems," said Vetinari. "Is that any problem for you?"

"A problem?" Sam burst out. "Everyone we know is going to die! My family, for example, and my friends, if they even are still alive. Surely you don't expect me to simply accept that?"

"Ah. And would you mind telling me what you are planning to do about it?" Vetinari asked with an expression of friendly interest. He seemed like someone who was talking about an interesting but entirely fictional book that was in no way connected to his own destiny. Sam couldn't believe it. He had quite a hard time in truly grasping what he just had heard. The world ending – it just didn't sound like something that actually happened. Still, deep inside, he felt that it was true. And this guy just sat there as if he didn't care at all!

But Sam knew better. Even Vetinari did have feelings; Sam had seen them in a moment he since then tried to forget, but right now he would have preferred everything to this blank mask of indifference. 'This can't mean nothing to him,' he thought. 'There must be someone, or something in the world he cares for!'

Or wasn't there? Sam refused to believe it, though everything about the Patrician's posture told him otherwise. And before he knew what he was doing, he swung a fist at him to slam that horrible empty expression off his face. One second later he found himself on the ground again, his right arm twisted painfully behind his back.

"What was that for?" a calm voice wanted to know. Sam struggled weakly but gave up when he felt a sharp pain shoot through his shoulder.

"Just felt like it," he snarled through grinded teeth. "Some people do that, you know? Feeling, I mean." There was a moment of silence, then the weight that pressed him down disappeared and his arm got released. He got back to his feet and angrily glared at Vetinari who looked back at him calmly and very, very serious. Behind him Albert watched the scene with a kind of amused confusion, obviously hoping for more action.

And in the doorway, Death watched the scene with a kind of confused confusion. Humanity, it seemed, would always remain a mystery to him.

---

IT APPEARS TO BE LIKE THIS, started Death after they had settled down in something that seemed to be a living room. THE DESTRUCTON OF ANKH-MORPORK CAUSED A GREAT DISTURBANCE IN THE SPIRITUAL WORLD. FOR EXAMPLE, IT GREATLY AFFECTED THE SPHERE OF THE GODS.

"Yes, that isn't surprising." Vetinari nodded. "The inhabitants of the city used to believe in anything."

"Especially if that belief somehow resulted in money," added Vimes.

YES. BUT NOT ONLY THE GODS GOT AFFECTED BUT ALSO THE WHOLE WORLD THAT LIES BEHIND WHAT YOU CALL REALITY. THIS DISTURBANCE CAUSED YOU TO COME HERE. IT ALSO SEEMES TO BE THE REASON WHY, DESPITE BEING GHOSTS IN THEORY, YOU STILL HAVE EVERY ATTRIBUTE OF A LIVING PERSON.

"Like getting hungry and tired." Sam snorted. "And getting hit by a ladle…"

YES.

"And how is this going to cause the collapse of all civilisation?" Vetinari wanted to know.

THERE WILL BE A WAR, INCLUDING ALL REGIONS OF THE DISK. MAGIC WILL BE ABUSED AND THE DUNGEON DIMENSIONS WILL EVENTUALLY JOIN THE FIGTH.

"But how can that be, just because our city is gone?" There was something Sam just didn't understand. "This isn't the first war Ankh-Morpork has lost."

INDEED. I BELIEVE OTHER FORCES ARE AT WORK HERE.

"Forces out to destroy the world?"

YES.

"Oh…" Sam fell silent. He wasn't much smarter now, but at least he knew why he had been hungry and why his head hurt. In fact, he still didn't understand it, but he had gotten an explanation, which meant that there had to be someone understanding it. It had to do for now.

Another thought awoke in his brain and shyly knocked on the outside of his mind, asking to be let in. Sam's mind opened its door and thought 'Oh.'

"Uhm," he began. "I have a family. I mean, I had one." The reaper looked at him. Vimes found it quite unsettling. "I would like to know if they are still alive."

There was a short silence.

YOU COULD LOOK FOR THEIR BOOKS IN THE LIBRARY, the skeleton then said. GO BACK TO THE KITCHEN AND ASK ALBERT TO SHOW YOU THE WAY.

Sam nodded gratefully and stood to leave the room. He had thought Death could just tell him whether or not they still lived, but though he had no idea what exactly this library was, if he could find answers there it was okay for him.

At the door, he stopped for a second and looked back into the room. From a distance, Vetinari looked rather frail, he thought – where had that man found the strength to press him down onto the floor? He also appeared incredibly tired, exhausted, and Vimes felt pang of – well, whatever it was, he did not want to feel it again.

Then he left and spent the next ten minutes trying to find his way back to the kitchen.

-tbc-