Death couldn't come with them. He was forbidden to interfere directly in the fate of the world. Actually, he was forbidden to interfere in any way at all, but since someone else had broken the rules first, he apparently deemed it okay to have someone else interfere in his place.

Also, they were still around despite being dead. To Sam Vimes that was all the proof he needed that the world wanted to be saved by them.

Not that he cared very much for what the world wanted. What Sam Vimes wanted was much more important. And right now Sam Vimes wanted to know where Havelock Vetinari was. So they could finally leave this weird place and get back to life, and also a little bit because he wanted to make sure at least one of them knew what exactly was going on. Anthropomorphic personifications of any type sometimes lacked a little in the rhetorical department.

There was nothing they could take with them, that much Sam had understood. Technically, they could have left right away, but Death and Lobsang had to prepare their departure, and in the meantime Vetinari had shuffled off to do whatever he did when there was nothing to do.

Now the moment of truth was approaching, Sam was getting a little nervous. He wasn't worried that they could fail, though, because there was so much at stake than a failure was simply not a possibility.

Eventually he ended up in the library. He hadn't been looking for it and was rather certain it hadn't been in this place yesterday, but it seemed at promising location for his search. Vetinari had done a lot of reading lately. Perhaps he wanted to make use of the last opportunity to read other people's life books before life separated him from this place, if possible forever.

They would return to life. They would un-destroy the world. The thought wasn't as shocking as it should be, as Sam had never quite gotten the hang of being dead in the first place.

As he found out, Vetinari wasn't here. At least not in immediate sight. Sam considered calling for him, but suddenly feared that the library would take that as an invitation to throw the bloody book at him again, and then, suddenly, Vetinari would appear, and kill him. It would reduce the chances of the city being saved, but for the patrician that probably would be worth it.

He could, however… No. It was a stupid idea. He shouldn't even consider it, as there was no point in knowing. Even if he made sure that his wife and son were still alive, it didn't matter. Soon, the history that might have led to their death would be erased, so even if he looked and found they hadn't made it, it wouldn't matter. It would simply make him go crazy and cloud his thinking.

But all this turning back time business was abstract and hard to grasp. Vimes needed something substantial to hold on to. And looking at the books to see them writing themselves, see the words form on the paper as a proof that there still was a life to be written about would be substantial enough for him. It wasn't like he was going to spy on them. He didn't want to know what was happening to them right now, since judging from Lobsang's stories, what he'd read might disturb him. All he wanted was a sign that they still lived, as meaningless as that life might be at the moment.

Being alive was something he understood.

So he called for the book of his son, and he flipped through the pages until he found the last page filled with text. A neat handwriting, curling over the paper. Documenting facts.

Sam stared at the page.

This was like writing in stone. What these words described had happened, was unchangeable. But they were about the change it. Did that mean the writing on the last couple of pages would be erased? Or just crossed out and worked over? Or would there be two stories in these books?

Sam stared at the page.

Did it work the other way round? If he changed something in the book, would that change reality? If he tore out a page, would it undo all written down there?

Sam stared at the page. The writing didn't move on. The story was over.

'This never happened,' he told himself. 'It will never have happened. And I will not look to see what exactly it is that never happened.'

His eyes, treacherously, moved to the beginning of the final page. He told them to stop, but they ignored his orders, as did his heart that seemed to have stopped beating. For the first time ever he truly felt dead.

His eyes flew over words his brain didn't want to register, and then the book was gone and Sam was staring at his hands, frozen in air before him. Extensions of his body he had no use for.

The book was still there, but somehow it had moved through the room from his hands into those of Lord Vetinari, who flipped through it with detached interest.

"Put that down!" Vimes growled through grinded teeth. "That's none of your damn business!" Finding something to focus his anger on without having to think, he lunged for the patrician, blindly and without grace. He knew it was useless, but somehow protecting this book felt like protecting his son, and his brain had gone somewhere else to kill time, unwilling to deal with any of this.

Vetinari sidestepped his uncoordinated attack without trouble, his eyes fixed on this book. Under different circumstances, Sam would have felt like a fly being swatted aside by a careless gesture.

"Interesting," Vetinari said. Breathing hard with unsuppressed anger and very suppressed everything else, Sam clenched his fists and kept himself from lunging at him again.

"What's so interesting?" he hissed, wishing for a sword or something else to cause serious damage. Vetinari remained unimpressed by his mood. Distantly, Sam realised that he wasn't reading at all, just randomly flipping through the pages.

"This is a very thick book. I would think it is meant to contain the story of a very long life." He put the leather-bound volume down on a table, but Sam noticed that he remained between him and the book. "You should consider yourself lucky. If we set things right, your son certainly will outlive you by many years."

Vimes stared at him. Then he tried to stare at the book, but it was gone from his view due to Vetinari standing in his line of sight. Moving didn't present itself as a desirable option, so Vimes stared at Vetinari again without seeing him, and gave his higher brain functions a cameo in the story of his life.

Then he smiled.

Then he grinned.

Finally he laughed out loud. It was half-faked, half-forced, but it felt good none the less and he laughed too loud and too long as the tension left him. He didn't need to know. There was nothing to know. What was written in this book was nothing compared to what could be written in it someday. It felt like a lie, but he decided to believe in it.

When Vetinari moved to leave the library, the book was gone from the table.

-

While Death and Lobsang had to deal with setting up the right circumstances for their journey back in time, there wasn't very much for the two normal, mortal humans (Vimes used this expression somewhat cautiously in connection to Vetinari) to do. They couldn't take anything with them but the clothes they were wearing, which didn't make a lot of sense to Sam: Either they could take anything, or nothing. Insisting on an explanation, Lobsang had told him something about a force called The Narrative, which was at work in cases like this. Had they been women, he said, the clothes would have to be left behind as well. Apparently the narrative was perverted.

But at least it left them their dignity.

THERE IS NO REASON TO FEEL WORRY, Death said in a voice that was either meant to be reassuring or to imitate the sound of nails being hammered into a coffin. THE CARRYING OF WEAPONS OR TOOLS WOULD NOT RAISE YOUR CHANCES TO SUCCEED IN THE LEAST.

Vimes thought about this. Hard. "Was this supposed to make me feel better?" he eventually asked, because he honestly couldn't tell.

YES. DID IT NOT WORK?

"Not exactly. Sorry."

HUMAN EMOTIONS ARE COMPLEX, was all Death had to say about it, but there was something consternated about the way he walked away.

"He does attempt to understand the living, though the reason for it escapes me," Vetinari mused, and Sam decided to pretend he had been there all along and not apparently popped up out of nothing. "After all, his interaction with living beings is limited at best."

"Maybe it's a hobby," Sam suggested. "Like the garden, or the house. It's like he's trying to imitate humanity and doing it wrong."

"Starting with the name of his horse." Vetinari nodded. Sam refrained from a reply – it was true that the name Binky (Or BINKY, to quote Death) was ill chosen for a horse that was supposed to inspire fear in the hearts of men, dwarfs, tigers and any other creature on the Disk simply due to who it was carrying, but he felt that as someone who had a similar effect on people and had called his dog Wuffles, Vetinari was hardly in a position to complain.

"I think they're ready," the patrician said, looking over to the two more or less supernatural beings standing at the edge of Death's realm. There was no better word to describe it. They had walked away from the house as far as they could, up the path and beyond the golden cornfield. Where before there had been the fake horizon, like a theatre screen with mountains painted on it there now was mainly nothing. Just darkness, with swirling shadows inside, like things trying to take from and failing just before they became recognizable. As far as Sam had understood their upcoming task, they were expected to walk into that.

Just him and Vetrinari. Death couldn't come, due to some rules and the general fabric of reality. Sam didn't care so much for the reasons. All he was concerned about, right now, was that there was a black, terrible abyss and they were supposed to jump in. To a place where even Death wouldn't go.

If he had been a little more alive, the latter fact might have actually been reassuring. Then again, probably not. There just was something about black holes in reality full of terrible things that didn't appeal to his animalistic instincts.

But if he thought of the book he had held in his hands less than an hour ago, he knew there was nowhere he wouldn't go, and couldn't start soon enough.

"Let's go then," he said, walking over to Death with determination. "So, we'll just go through this and end up in Anth-Morpork?"

Death nodded. YOU WILL ARRIVE THREE DAYS BEFORE YOUR DEMISE.

"And then what?"

YOU WILL KNOW WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU SEE IT.

That wasn't at all helpful. Vimes suspected that Death couldn't tell more, because even he didn't exactly know what they were about to face.

WE HAVE DETERMINED THIS THE RIGH TIME FOR ACTION. FOCUS ON THE TASK AND DO NOT TRY TO CHANGE ANYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN YOUR PAST. SINCE YOUR PRESENT SELFS DO NOT EXIST IN THAT TIME IT WILL HAVE NO EFFECT.

"I thought changing the past was the idea?"

WHAT YOU HAVE TO ERADICATE DOES NOT EXIST IN THAT TIME EITHER.

"You're saying that someone else changed history first?"

IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING.

Raising his eyebrows, Sam turned to look at Vetinari. "Now look at that."

"You're still fighting crimes in the afterlife," the other man said with a faint smile. "You should have taken the chance for retirement when it was offered to you. It seems that opportunity is gone forever."

In reply, Sam merely shrugged. He wasn't particularly unhappy about that. Just sometimes, he wished the criminals of the city would give him a break long enough to have tea with Sybil after reading to their son. It was all he asked of retirement.

Maybe he'd get it. One day. Some part of him was convinced that he had protected the city for so long that once he became too old and tired to run after every murderer, there would be fewer murderers to run after.

Beside him Vetinari was still smiling. At times like this, Sam was more convinced than ever that the man was reading his mind.

YOU CAN GO, Death said. It didn't sound pointed; probably because he didn't know the meaning of that word. Still, Sam felt like they were in the process of getting kicked out.

Which was perfectly fine with him. Getting kicked out by Death – was there a better way to start the day?

Only the look of the door wasn't to his liking. Looking at the swirling, back wall-that-wasn't, Sam swallowed once and stepped forward.

By the time the darkness closed around him and ate the world, Vetinari was already gone.

-tbc

July 01, 2009