AUTHOR'S NOTE - It was logical to include Lady Margolotta in this story (and I really wanted to), but before writing it I knew next to nothing about her, save for that she was as close as anyone was going to get to a female Vetinari. Unfortunately, I haven't yet read and couldn't get hold of a copy of Fifth Elephant or Unseen Academicals, so I did the next best thing - wiki'd her, read reviews and analysis on her character, then read all the fanfiction I could get my hands on, averaged it all out to get more canon than fanon and came up with this. Hopefully, she's not too far off! If she is too familiar, forgive me, and attriubte it to her nostalgia ;)
-x-x-x-
The ballroom looked fantastic. He'd already tried some of the food from the buffet, and it was sublime. There was nothing short of half an orchestra playing delightful jazz in the background. And there was a small crowd of beautiful, confident and self-assured women chatting amicably by the drinks table.
The crowd was, in fact, three women, who, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the situation, were married to the three men that had been forced into a group themselves and were making very awkward small talk in a different corner.
Vimes was one of the three men. He took a drag from his cigar to avoid making eye-contact with William De Worde, and turned away briefly as he exhaled to make sure Moist von Lipwig didn't try and talk to him.
There was a silence so awkward that Vimes found himself actually wishing death or destruction would occur so he would have an excuse to rush off. Well, destruction, rather than death, but usually, sadly, you couldn't have one without the other.
"Good evening, Commander Vimes, Mr Lipwig, Mr De Worde."
All three men jumped like they'd just been caught joining a particularly embarrassing cult - even De Worde, who'd been facing the direction that the Patrician had just appeared from (what was the point of having top-class assassin training if you couldn't utilize your stealth skills for your own amusement every now and then?).
"Good evening, my Lord! You're…uh…here very early…" Mr Lipwig's bright, even frantic, smile hastened to include everyone in the conversation, but neither of the other two men particularly wanted to contribute. Vetinari took pity on him.
"Indeed, Mr Lipwig, but the gala is, in fact, being held - if you'll excuse my Quirmian - a chez moi."
"Of course, sir."
The awkward silence resumed. Vetinari actually appeared to be enjoying it, the bastard.
"Ah! More guests are arriving!" the look of absolute relief on Lipwig's face was unmistakable, "If you'll excuse me, Mr De Worde, Commander, my Lord."
As he hurried off to do his hostly duties, the message was clear: every man for himself, boys, cheerio!
And that was the thing about Moist von Lipwig, Vimes thought; on the surface, he was all friendliness and charm and patience, but underneath, his brain worked faster than the average man's did on two gallons of splot.
It was rather worrying, but not something that he was going to dwell on at this moment, because he didn't want to be left with Vetinari, so he needed to come up with an excuse quicker than-
"Otto! Otto what are you - I'm sorry, Commander, my Lord, I have to - Otto!"
Vimes swore under his breath as William De Worde made his escape. Every man for himself.
"Villiam? But I am just doink vot you-"
"Shut up, Otto."
There were a few moments of intense whispering between the vampire iconographer and the editor, then they both scurried off.
"Ah, Commander, I would love to stay and make small talk, but Lady Margolotta has just arrived and she is a very good friend of mine. If you will excuse me…"
Vimes blinked in surprise as the Patrician glided off into the steadily growing crowds. He took a sip of his drink, shuffled around a little awkwardly, then decided that he was going to have to go and find Sybil and trail her around until Carrot arrived.
-x-x-x-
"Ah, Havelock," the stately vampiress smiled brightly as the Patrician took her hand and led her into the hall, "How vunderful to see you again. And not for business, zis time! You should organize more balls."
"You too, Margolotta, but it was not I who invited you to this gala, if you remember."
"Of course." she smirked at him, "You've never been vun to disappoint public opinion."
Vetinari's expression didn't change, "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."
"Don't vorry, Havelock," she lowered her voice in a mock-conspiratorial tone and squeezed his arm, "I am never vun to listen to rumours zat I know myself not to be true."
She watched his face intently and the only movement was a minute twitch of the mouth that could have been the beginnings of a suppressed smile. She took that as a victory, but moved on, "Vhere is zis hospitable Meester Lipvig zhat invited me, zhen?"
"My Lady," she turned to see the young man in question at her elbow with a dazzling smile and a dark-haired young woman on his arm. Or rather, she seemed to be allowing him to hold out his arm underneath her hand. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. This is my wife, Adora."
"Hello, my dear. Oh, you vork viz zer clay men, zer golems, do you not? I believe your delightful assistant - vhat is her name, Miss Smint? - spent much time in Ubervald a few months back. I vas surprised zat you did not come yourself, vhat viz your husband beink from Lipvig."
The young woman's smile appeared to be genuine, although contradicting bolts of irritation and curiosity laced her gaze, "Yes. And I would have accompanied Miss Smint, had I not been pregnant. My husband was adamant that I didn't travel, for my own safety." she rolled her eyes at him and he raised his eyebrows back, before turning back to his guests.
"You see, my Lady, I grew up in Uberwald - so I know all the dangers very well." The young woman frowned at her husband and he sighed. This appeared to have been a well-argued point.
Lady Margolotta laughed, "Afraid zer verevolves might carry off your lovely lady, Meester Lipvig?"
"I was more concerned about the locals, actually." he said with a charming grin. The vampiress laughed again and the Patrician offered a smile.
"Very witty, Mr Lipwig. But I do believe Lord Downey has arrived…"
"Of course. My Lord, Lady Margolotta."
Margolotta watched the young couple move on to the next set of guests with mild curiosity.
"Vhat an interesting new pet you have, Havelock, and his vife is…intriguing. He must not be as stupid as he pretends, as you have him runnink most of the businesses in your city, and he didn't make any silly comments about vampires."
"Mr Lipwig is very good at keeping his true nature under wraps, but the city has high hopes for him. And, the dignitaries are no longer listening. You can tone down your accent, madam."
Margolotta opened her mouth to make a comment about what he thought of her accent thirty years back, but changed her mind, "Very well. The city? Not you? Ah, because he was a criminal?"
Vetinari coughed meaningfully, "Albert Spangler was a criminal, and Albert Spangler was hanged."
"Very good, Havelock, you got the chance to pull your favourite trick - the guardian angel. And nobody got hurt." she frowned at him, "Isn't the point of being a tyrant that people are scared of you? He was sentenced to hang for a reason."
"I assure you, madam, that the only people that need be scared of me are those who haven't learnt the words."
"Aha, now you sound tyrannical."
They paused to survey the rest of the guests who were beginning to pair off in time with the music. Lady Margolotta turned to the Patrician, and smiled the smile of a woman who had chosen to stop being the ultimate object of sexual attraction because it was inconvenient, but knew that she could resume the position at any time she wished.
"Dance viz me, Havelock, because you used to dance so vell. And zen, perhaps, ve can retire and finally have a real game of Thud, vissout zose silly clacks interruptions?"
Vetinari appeared to be amused; Margolotta wasn't sure, and she probably knew him better than most on the Disc. He'd always been difficult to read, even when he was nineteen and intriguingly and infuriatingly impudent, and although she'd got much better at pretending to be nice - 'b-vord' and all that, yes, it had been his idea - she still, after centuries of practise, couldn't pokerface to his standard.
"You are mistaken, Margolotta, if you think that your accent will influence me."
"Of course it von't, Havelock," said the vampiress, whose dress was burgundy and tastefully cut, with gothic lace trim, no hint of pink and the only bat to be seen was a small silver fastening on her neckline, "But actink like a middle-aged politician is so very borink, and vhy should I conceal my true nature to you, who knows it best? Dance viz me, please - or with me, if you would rather."
The Patrician took her hand, "Madam."
-x-x-x-
"People watching?"
Adora Belle glanced up as her husband approached, leaning on the balustrade beside her, "Couple watching, really. That couple," she indicated the particular pair amongst the crowded dancefloor, "That's Duchess Susan, isn't it?"
Moist nodded. It was rather difficult to mistake those swirling white tresses.
"What do you make of her escort?"
He squinted at the young man in question, "Well, he's either an assassin or a vampire; they're the only two kinds of people who can get away with that much black, and he's incredibly elegant in his movements. I'm leaning towards assassin, though, because I've never seen a vampire pull off blond curls."
"I thought assassin, too." she smirked, "Only an assassin would have the style to try and kill their target whilst dancing with her."
"He's trying to kill her?"
"Yes, and she's fighting back - if you watch- there! She just stomped on his foot."
"Maybe she's just a bad dancer."
"She's a duchess, Moist, she will have been dancing like this since she was five. And she drove the heel of her shoe right into the middle of his foot with force. You can't do that by accident, and I would know."
They stood in silence and watched the artfully twirling couple's efforts to injure each other. Moist's eyes widened in surprise as he caught a flash of metal pressed into the woman's side -
"Gods! He's got his knife on her!"
- And then she brought up her knee sharply, he staggered for a moment, then righted himself, and on the next turn the knife was gone and the blond assassin was limping a little. Moist winced. Adora chuckled.
"He's not trying to kill her, though," he added, as an afterthought. His wife raised her eyebrows at him, and he continued, "He's decked out in full 'assassin's black' regalia, he's a licensed assassin from the Guild; if he was trying to kill her, she'd already be dead."
"Interesting." she pursed her lips, "I wonder why she brought him as her escort if she hates him so much?"
"Perhaps they're together, and they had an argument?"
"I don't think many men would hold a knife to their girlfriend's ribs over a simple misunderstanding, especially not at a public event. And assassins have a very strict honour code."
"Maybe," said Moist after a few moments' silent consideration, "They're just…into that sort of thing…?"
"Kinky." said Adora Belle, and laughed.