Lord Vetinari sighed. He always found chairing any meeting that involved the City Watch and the Assassins' Guild to be something akin to refereeing a heavyweight boxing match between trolls. (1)People would pay good money to watch the fight, but the referee had to dance hard and fast to avoid being caught in between them, even before asserting his will over both parties and insisting on minimal rules of engagement being obeyed by both contestants. As a graduate Assassin himself, he also had to work that much harder to be seen by Vimes as being wholly fair and impartial in any judgement. However, both parties could always be called to heel if he invoked the ultimate rule, in fact the nearest thing Vetinari had to a single inviolable rule – the good of the city.
He smiled at the two delegations, and made a conversational opener.
"I was rather gratified with the Times this morning." he said. "Its coverage of graduation morning at the Assassins' Guild School was especially fair and thorough. Let me see…. The sub-headline We have seen the future of Howondalaand in the face of its young people, underneath the pictures of young Assassins celebrating their graduation, was very pleasing. As I remarked to the ambassadors this morning, a wind of change is beginning to blow across that war-torn continent, and it began in the courtyard of the Assassins' Guild this morning. (3)By the time it reaches Home and has picked up force, who knows? And in thirty years' time, when the Retief twins are in positions of power and influence in their country, and Joshua N'Kouth has ascended at least to the status of a Paramount Prince, we may see a different Howondalaand. I find it amazing what seven years of fair and co-operative mixed education can do to break down entrenched attitudes. You are to be congratulated, Lord Downey."
"Thank you, my lord."
Vimes shuffled in his seat. He'd brought Carrot and Angua as back-up: Downey, he noticed, had brought Mericet with him to speak for the Old Order, no doubt, but it was also interesting that the dry and dour Joan Sanderson-Reeves was there to speak for the New School. Vimes paused for a moment, trying to straighten out his opinion of her. Yes, it had stung at the time that Vetinari had effectively taken the criminal investigation out of his hands, when as far as he was concerned the Cable Street people had done all the work, and handed it over to the Assassins at just the point where he was poised to make the arrest. Yes, she was a mass-murderer. But then, show me an Assassin who isn't. And Vetinari had effortlessly manipulated the situation to steer her away from a short suspended sentence at the Tanty, and into a life of useful service at the Guild School teaching Domestic Science. If she ever writes the recipe book, I've got her for incitement and conspiracy. God knows what she teaches young Assassins.But he had to hand it to her – grudgingly. She'd made good her probation, grasped her last chance with both hands, and rehabilitated herself to the point where bloody Downey himself appeared to have conferred Senior Assassin status on her. And she's quite a smart, clever, fundamentally upright, citizen, give or take her predeliction for disposing of other peoples' errant husbands. Sybil likes her, and Sybil is normally a sound judge of character, Nobby Nobbs excepted. Maybe Vetinari was right to do a Lipwig on her and spare her the noose, on the grounds she had talents the City could use. If we'd hung her back then, we'd never have seen this now. Maybe Vetinari's way is the right way. He said he abhors needless waste of human material. Which leads us to…
"I was reviewing the paperwork relating to the Graduation Class Final Examination last night" Vetinari went on, conversationally.
Vimes noticed Downey becoming fractionally more tense and alert. Vetinari continued.
"Obviously these are first impressions from the raw statistics. Thank you, Drumknott."
He took the offered file. Six people in the room all tried not to be noticed reading the title upside-down. It read
Unacceptable levels of mortal injury during Assassins' Guild Final Exams.
What level is acceptable, if ever? Vimes wondered, trying not to picture Jocasta Wiggs lying stiff and broken on the mortuary slab, eighteen years of life snuffed out in one awful night. Get a grip. Yes, you're fond of the girl. But be professional!
"One hundred and eighty-four candidates set out from the Guild last night." Vetinari remarked. "One hundred and sixty-two, at the last count, remain alive this morning. My maths is not perfect. But I calculate that to be an eleven percent Failure rate. Slightly more than a one in ten chance of Failure. Placed in merely human terms, that represents twenty-two young lives which were ended last night. Twenty-two families who are grieving even as we discuss this matter."
Vetinari steepled his fingers. Downey made no comment, but Mericet rushed in to fill the silence.
"In previous years, my lord, it has been as high as twenty-five per cent. A certain level of wastage has always been accepted as part of the final examination."
Vimes saw Angua and Joan both wince. Joan said, in a carefully modulated voice:
"In my graduation class, the human wastage was nearer thirty-three per cent."
Vimes nodded appreciatively on the spin she put on "human wastage." Maybe Medusa's heart wasn't as stony as he thought. He glanced round to where Angua and Carrot had just looked at each other, as if for confirmation that they hadn't misheard Mericet's coldly dispassionate reference to a certain level of wastage.
Downey coughed, and said: "I will draw your attention, my Lord, to the undeniable fact that taken year-by-year, the , ah, human wastage rate, has been dropping significantly, both in terms of accidents during training and on the Final Examination. Given the experimental adjustments to examination procedure that we were persuaded to factor in this year, I have every expectation that the rate will continue to drop."
Vetinari looked at him unsympathetically.
"Be that as it may, my Lord, I had two delicate and rather uncomfortable personal interviews earlier this morning. One with the parents of Lady Susan Venturi, and one with Lady Rust. I gather Lord Rust was, ah, indisposed."
As one, everyone, including Drumknott, turned to look at Sam Vimes.
"Don't look at me!" he protested. "I'll grant you I'm usually the reason for Ronnie Rust being indisposed, and ye Gods, it took a hell of an effort not to thump him one this morning, especially after he gave me the benefit of his opinion concerning my son, but as it happens this time around it was Lady Rust who belted him."
"Indeed, Sir Samuel. And your rather contented expression is also noted, Miss Sanderson-Reeves. But. Back to the point. Attempts have been made to persuade me that far too many of the Failed candidates come from good families. These are the ones with the power and influence to make noise and complain very loudly at the fact their child Failed finals. And in their… extreme disillusionment… they choose to complain to me."
"So we're saying that Mr Mericet's "acceptable rate of human wastage" only becomes unacceptable when the human potential being wasted belongs to the nobility?" Angua asked. "Excuse me, is there some sort of sliding scale that values a Lord's son or daughter at five times that of a merchant's? Ten times the worth of a Morporkian street kid?"
"And six of the dead last night came from MY class of day pupils!" Joan put in. "SIX, my lord. Out of the thirty I started with seven years ago. But nobody seems concerned about that because they were only scholarship pupils! No influential relatives to speak for them and make a noise at the Palace!"
Vetinari held up a hand for silence.
"I can see this is arousing passionate feelings" he said. "Please be assured that I personally place no higher value on the life of Lady Susan Venturi than on, for instance, Tracey Boggis of the scholarship form. The loss of a child necessitates the same grief and pain regardless of the social status of the parent. But Miss Boggis' parents are a lot less likely to demand a personal interview with me to ask why."
"Oh, I daresay it could be arranged." Joan mused. Vetinari looked at her sharply, but met only a bland poker face.
"Yes, it very probably could!" Vetinari agreed.
"Sir, it may be likely to be a lower figure than twenty-two, if we factor in three student Assassins who, fortunately for them, my Watch patrols got to first." Vimes glared at Downey. "They have varying degrees of physical injury and were certainly unable to carry on the Test last night, but my Igor tells me that they're on the road to full physical recovery. We got them to the Lady Sybil Free Hospital and placed them in the care of Doctor Lawn and his staff. Moss.. Doctor Lawn's resident Igors and my Watch Igor carried out an operation on the most badly injured. They say …"
"You let IGORS loose on my Assassins?" Downey almost shouted.
"Does that offend your sensibilities, Donald? Shambling self-assembled creatures from Überwald laying their filthy peasant hands on your young ladies and gentlemen? At least the Code of the Igors is about healing. I hear the code of your – housekeeping squads? – is all about delivering the misericordia. Isn't that Latatian for 'this one's broken beyond all repair, let's not bother taking him to an Igor who can probably work miracles, those chaps are well below the salt socially speaking. Let's just discreetly cut his throat or give him a nice soothing drink to ease him out of this vale of tears. If his parents ask, we bung them a posthumous Assassins' Licence in a nice frame and say what a shame he isn't here to appreciate it.'. Donald, there's a girl from your school who thanks to three Igors will be able to walk again in ten weeks time. Despite breaking her bloody back in three places! I'm glad we got to them first before your broom wagon did!"
"You have three of my pupils under armed guard and you are refusing to let my staff in to see them!"
"Donald, in cases where we believe the life of an injured person to be at continued and real risk, you will find I have every right to put an armed guard at the hospital bedside and vet all visitors." Vimes said. "All I want from you is a cast-iron assurance these three student Assassins are not subject to what I hear is your mucky little secret. Housekeeping. Tidying-up. Sanitary action. So far you have refused to give it. So no access."
"Lord Downey, what's so wrong with employing an Igor?" Joan asked. "Sounds like a damn' good idea to me and it'd be a damn sight more effective than that bloody useless pox-doctor!"
"Igors are… well, they're not our sort of people. People might complain. Parents."
Joan barked out a harsh laugh. "Utter twaddle, Master! I tell you what, I'm not the world's greatest edificeer. If I fell off a wall and broke my back, I wouldn't be asking the people who rescued me and who propose to fix the injury to hold on for ten minutes, while I check if they're listed in Twurps!"
"Wouldn't be seen dead going to an Igor." mused Captain Carrot. "Well, you'd get your wish in the Assassins' Guild!"
"I'm not answerable to you for how I run my Guild!" Downey half-shouted at Vimes.
"No, you aren't." Vetinari agreed. "However, a very good case could be made for your being answerable to me for how you run your School! There are precedents, city statutes, laws, commissions, School Inspectors. Arch-chancellor Ridcully recently had to concede that the City has a legal right to inspect all aspects of the running of his University. I'm minded to apply the same precedent to mere schools."
Vetinari paused to let the implications sink in.
"Even though there are certain time-honoured traditions and some extenuating circumstances, in my understanding, the great majority of educational establishments actively refrain from deliberately killing their pupils. They appear to have some understanding of the phrase "duty of care".
After another meaningful pause, Vetinari smiled, mirthlessly.
"I'm pleased the mortality toll from last night now appears to have reduced to nineteen. I will ask Doctor Lawn to confirm to me that the three student assassins in his care are stable and expected to make a full recovery. That being the case, a doctor of his considerable experience would not expect to see any, ah, sudden relapses, of the sort that can so regrettably happen at three in the morning, when the human spirit is at its lowest ebb. Especially not the sort of relapses that might well arouse cause for suspicion, if subjected to post-mortem, or forensic examination by the rather bright Sergeant Littlebottom. This being the case, I'm sure Commander Vimes can find other duties for the Watchmen currently on guard duty at the Free Hospital? And I'm sure Miss Sanderson-Reeves would not mind visiting the Free Hospital on behalf of the Guild, as she strikes me as a teacher with the best interests of her pupils at heart? And once healed and passed as fit, those three students may be granted, without penalty, a second chance of passing the Final Exam? We're all agreed, then. Capital."
Vetinari paused.
"Shall we examine in greater detail some ways in which the butcher's bill which is the Final Exam may be further reduced? Commander Vimes, you were issued several pre-agreed letters to be used at your discretion last night. I understand one lucky recipient is, even as we speak, on a sea voyage she would not have chosen of her own volition?"
"Yes, sir. I got the idea from an assassination attempt on myself some years ago. The ninth attempt. When my price was set at six hundred thousand dollars."
Vimes grinned, nastily.
"Oh, yes, sir. The one where the Assassin actually claimed to be a temporary valet sent from Keeble's employment agency? He intended to poison your shaving cream? And Willikins made him eat it?"(4)
"Captain Carrot, a fine memory for detail, as always." Vimes complimented him. "Yes, the honorable Eustace Gassingly-Bore."
Mericet coughed, softly.
"I believe it's actually Bassingly-Gore, Sir Samuel."
"I stand corrected. In any case, after I'd had him shanghaied halfway around the world, at his own expense, incidentally, it took him slightly less than a year to make it back under his own steam. Which got me thinking. Why not incorporate that into Assassin training, as a sort of initiative test? Much better than lying in a dark alley with every bone in your body broken, gasping up your life's blood and waiting for the Housekeeping Squad to offer you a nice refreshing last drink. Less terminal. Gassing-Bore proved it can be done. Now Lucinda Rust is about to follow in his footsteps. Which was a hell of an effort last night, after she shot Ping and would have killed Reg Shoe, if he were actually alive to be killed again. The lads don't like that sort of thing.
" Now I hear young Lucinda doesn't like black people very much. Which from her point of view is a bit of an oh-dear situation, as the deal with Jenkins is that he drops her off on the coast of Kwa'Zululand. She is going to be absolutely dependent on black people to get her out of their country. I've spoken to your very capable Chaplain, Lord Downey, and he's having it put out on the jungle drums at home, to be prepared to welcome White-Girl-Pain-In-Arse and speed her way to the jungle border with Klatch. His message should get there before she does, so they'll be ready.
"They're going to get her to a certain wadi where the jungle gives way to scrub and the genuine Klatchian desert. I hope she can live on dates, because she's going to be stranded there for a month until another old friend who owes me a favour turns up on his patrol beat. Seventy-One hour Ahmed. You know him, Guild graduate. Guild honour, of course he's got to help a fellow guild member, even if she is a grade one brat. And of course she gets to learn a lot about he way the world really is. Think of it as the Grand Unsneer, on a budget, through all the black and brown-skinned countries."
"I can see you've thought this one through, Sir Samuel." Vetinari said, nodding.
"Well, if I'd just had her dumped in Genua or Brindisi, it wouldn't be a test. All she needs do is clacks Daddy and beg for him to send money or a coach ticket. No, they're going to places where there aren't any clacks."
"That seems…acceptable" Downey said, trying to suppress a smile.
"And the other innovation last night. I believe the Escape and Evasion exercise was a complete success all round? "
"Yes sir, we're very pleased with that." Captain Carrot said. He unfolded a report sheet.
"According to our intelligence, forty-eight student assassins were directed to Commander Vimes' garden. We had continual patrolling going on as well as camouflaged fixed observers, and we succeeded in detecting and detaining forty-six out of forty-eight intruders. Only two Assassins were able to reach their control point undetected by us."
"How do you know only two students got to me undetected if you didn't detect them?" Joan asked, penetratingly. Carrot erme'd. Vimes stepped in.
"Did you notice the ornamental gargoyles on the summerhouse roof?" he asked. "Actually Constables Downspout and Drainpipe. A species with very good memories and acute hearing. They prepared a list of the names of all forty-odd students who identified themselves at your checkpoint. I compared that with my list of forty-six who gave themselves up".
"I do notice once you'd got them in custody, the holding areas seemed woefully insecure." Vetinari remarked. "As all but two treated Watch detention as a temporary inconvenience and were able to break out again"
"I know, sir. I'll have to have a word with the gardener about installing more secure sheds."
"Indeed, Sir Samuel." Vetinari and Vimes held each other's gaze for an instant. The Patrician looked away. "And your impressions of the night?"
"A very useful and valuable exercise, sir. I'm obliged to Lord Downey for his willingness to participate. It gave my Watchmen a valuable exercise in patrolling, I was able to test my own home security under real conditions, and of course it tested those skills that student Assassins needed to be examined in – but under non-lethal conditions.
"I will add that almost all the Assassins we caught seemed genuinely surprised we were there, and gave themselves up without much of a fight, and were very co-operative. Initially we had surprise on our side. But once they'd had time to evaluate and think, their skills and teaching came into force, and that did show. Given a little time to think about it – and we deliberately tried to spread them out over seven or eight lock-up points so that there was very rarely more than one in the same cell - the vast majority of them worked out for themselves that it was an escape and evasionexercise. Therefore the rules obliged them to escape custody and make it to the checkpoint. The moment miss Sanderson-Reeves acknowledged them, we considered it "game over" from our point of view. Kept her busy all night, though. They were ctually queueing up for her, at one point! I had to put a Watchman on traffic duty and remind them about no talking, this is an exam!"
"But two didn't?"
"Two students were so demoralized by being captured that they chose to remain in custody, sir. Which is why I counsel that those two should give up all hope of being Assassins, without sanction, and leave the Guild now, while they still can. Find something else to do with their lives, as to be honest if they fold that quickly under pressure, they'll never make it. Better they stay alive as failed Assassins, and find other trades."
"Agreed" Vetinari said, taking the slip of paper with two names written on it. "And the two who completely evaded your security systems and all your Watchmen were?"
"Sharon Higgins. Scholarship girl, apparently, sir. She'd make you a good Dark Clerk."
"Noted. And the other?"
"Jocasta Wiggs, sir. Then again, it's not as if she hasn't had practice at scouting my garden."
"Lord Downey? Your opinion?"
"I'm forced to agree with Sir Samuel. It was a very worthwhile addition to the exam curriculum, and with his permission, I would like to repeat the exercise next year."
"Miss Sanderson-Reeves?"
"A jolly exciting night. I must say it was very well organized!"
"Indeed. So if two more students can now be accounted for as having chosen to remain in Watch detention rather than return to incur the wrath of the Guild for failing, then that further reduces the death toll to seventeen. I'm aware this is a dangerous night and accidents will happen, sometimes mortal ones, but my considered opinion is that in these enlightened times, seventeen is still too many. Lord Downey, Mr Mericet, I wish for a still greater reduction next year. Am I understood? And I would like to see the Guild employ at least one Igor. There's no shame in that. Their family is older still and has a better pedigree than many of our noble houses! And I would eventually like to see you institute mobile emergency squads that can note if a Candidate is having trouble on, for instance, the Emergency Drop, who may then intervene to prevent fatal injury! I believe at least some of those deaths last night were due to negligience and abandonment. Miserable deaths in lonely places. Regular checking would have rescued..some...of those casualties. I believe those deaths could and should have been prevented and were down to negligience. "
Downey agreed, albeit reluctantly. Joan smiled, having got what she'd come to argue for. Only Mericet remained in fighting mode.
"Sir, I must protest! In all my more than forty years with the Guild I can safely tell you I have never seen such a degree of feather-bedding and mollycoddling of student Assassins! How will they learn if they are not continually followed by the fear of death?"
"More happily and less fearfully, I expect." Vetinari said. He left the desk and held the door open.
"Mr Mericet, if today's Guild is not to your liking any more, there is always honourable retirement."
"I may well take it" Mericet hissed. "Female Assassins. Safe exams. An end to the misericordia. This isn't my Guild any more!"
"Many old men say that after nearly half a century's loyal service. Things change. Goodbye, Mr Mericet."
Mericet's had his chips, then, thought Vimes.
Vetinari paused and added "No great rush."
1 Troll boxing was a popular gladiatorial sport in Ankh Morpork. People were prepared to place large bets even knowing that most bouts were promoted by Chrysoprase (2). The weight divisions begin with Pumiceweight (one ton) and ascend by increments to super-igneousweight (three tons). This necessitates a specially reinforced ring with high-stress steel cabling in place of ropes. Of course, the possibility of a "rope" snapping adds an extra frisson of danger for spectators, and offers something genuinely random for the Gamblers' Guild to bet on.
(2) Who made Don King look positively honest by comparison.
2 (3) Vetinari is echoing British prime minister Harold Macmillan, who in 1960 spoke of "a wind of change blowing across Africa", in a historic speech signifying Britain's willingness to surrender its African empire to native self-rule. The speech was also a diplomatic warning to the Union of South Africa, pointing out that if it persisted with white rule and the divisive system of apartheid, it would do so without the support or approval of Britain. South Africa promptly seceded from the Commonwealth and declared itself a Republic, and persisted with apartheid until the early 1990's. Its neighbour Rhodesia broke links with Britain and kept its apartheid state going, despite civil war, until the early 1980's. While all around, African colonies became self-ruling states, one of the most successful of which was Kenya, which insisted its white population remained as wholly equal Kenyan nationals. Its leader, who held out the olive branch to Kenyan whites, and made his nation one of the wealthiest in Africa, was Joshua N'Kromo.
3 See The Fifth Elephant.