Chapter 21 - When Havelock Met Susan

In which there is absolutely zero chance of any restaurant scene involving the Duchess of Sto Helit pantomiming any bodily functions whatsoever (intimate or otherwise). I mean really people, what kind of story do you think this is?

A/N: My thanks to DarkPatu, Mikell, Fledge, SSC, Bookworm Gal, and Sir Henry for your continued support and feedback. You may find that I took some of your questions and suggestions to heart in this chapter. ;-)

"Ah, Lady Sto Helit. To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"

Susan blinked. This was not at all how she expected this meeting to begin. Surely he knows exactly why we are here. "We are here, Lord Patrician, because I assumed you would wish to discuss the matter of a certain newspaper article."

Vetinari leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling for a moment. "Indeed. But that is not the question I asked. I understand why Lady LeJean is here. I would like to know why you, in particular, are here in my office. Are you intending to act as her advocate?"

"What? No! I am not trained in the law."

Vetinari frowned and leaned forward. "Then, if I may ask, are you here representing the interests of Sto Helit in this matter?"

"Certainly not. What possible interest could Sto Helit have in this situation?"

Vetinari blinked, suspicion giving way to the most dramatic display of befuddlement Susan had ever seen[1]. "I ask the same question myself, and the result is a number of interesting possibilities. The fact that Lady LeJean's fortune would represent a destabilizing amount of wealth were it to reach the streets of Ankh Morpork gives some idea of how it could impact the fortunes of a, shall we say, more modest city-state like Sto Helit." Vetinari's voice shifted slightly, becoming literally saturated with sarcasm. "Indeed, what possible interest could you have… I'm sorry, what was your title again?"

Myria watched this exchange with growing concern. She was used to seeing Susan dominate practically every conversation she had been involved in. But here, it appeared this was not the case at all.

Myria was suddenly very afraid of the man on the other side of the desk.

Susan gave a sharp laugh, but it seemed more an expression of disbelief than humor. "Are you deliberately trying to be obtuse with me, Lord Patrician?"

"Perish the thought. That might result in an international incident. Ah, now I remember. Yes, an international incident because you are, after all, the rightful ruler of Sto Helit." Vetinari picked up a piece of paper off his desk. "Sto Helit. How are things there, by the way? Governing can be such a heavy burden, you must have little free time to pursue your other interests."

Myria watched Susan's lips pale a little as she pressed them together to bite back a retort. Finally she took a deep breath, exhaled, and answered haughtily, "I fail to see how that is your business, Lord Patrician." Susan was, very clearly, becoming angry. Myria had seen Susan angry before. That was not surprising. But always before, Susan had seemed to be using that anger as a tool for her to control the conversation. Here, it appeared that the opposite was occurring.

"I have already expressed why it would be the business of Ankh Morpork, whose interests I am cursed to represent. And your answer surprises me, since clearly you feel it is your business to insinuate yourself into Ankh Morpork's affairs? Lady Sto Helit, you have built quite a life in Ankh Morpork over the last several years. A most unremarkably normal life, here in our fair and lovely…" Vetinari seemed to have a momentary issue with his throat, "… in our city[2]. And now I find you in my office, attempting to sway domestic policy. Do you not find this somewhat incongruous?"

Myria felt her body reacting in odd ways as Vetinari continued to speak. For one, it seemed intent on sinking as low as possible in the seat, while her feet were pushing gently but inexorably against the floor as if to move both her and the chair as far from the situation as possible.[3]

Susan's lips moved slightly, and Myra realized with a start that Susan was counting under her breath and her fingers were turning white where she gripped the chair arms. Finally Susan answered "I. Am. Here. As Myria's… friend. Nothing more."

Vetinari smiled coolly. "Then I am relieved. It is good to have friends, as long as they are more help than hindrance. I find very few who fit that requirement, and thus have very few friends." He sat back and steepled his fingers, seeming to shift gears. "How is your grandfather by the way? Do give him my regards."

Myria felt a shock run through her, as she stared at the Patrician's face. He appeared… calm. As if he had just stated that an apple was red or that the world was a disc. She felt a sudden internal struggle as half of her insisted that she turn her head in Susan's direction, and the other half fought to keep her eyes forward. The silence beside her was palpable, and she managed to turn enough to see a saw faint blue tint to Susan's pupils for a few seconds before fading. Only then did Susan respond through gritted teeth. "He is well, as ever. Thank you for asking."

"I have not met your grandfather personally, of course. I only know him by reputation."

And the two of you have crossed paths before, Susan said in the safety of her own head, considering your education at the Assassins Guild, you self-absorbed, arrogant, little-

"But enough about me." It was disconcerting that Vetinari's response could have been in reply to what she was thinking. "As much as I appreciate loyalty, I would like to hear," Vetinari turned to Myria and gestured pointedly, "Lady LeJean, in your own words how it can be that a quantity of gold, claimed by you, came to be imbedded in the core of flagstone that Lord Rust's advocate has provided affidavits," Vetinari waved a modest sheaf of papers, "attesting that these same flagstones were installed several years ago, well before you ever rented the property."

Myria tensed and opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Susan. "My Lord Patrician, with all respect, that is not a matter which you should be required to address."

Vetinari continued to calmly gaze at Myria as if Susan had not spoken. "Lady LeJean, could you tell me how many ounces of ink are in my inkwell?"

Myria blinked, feeling her stomach settle immediately. A problem with a straightforward answer. She considered further. And a benign question as well. Perhaps he has heard of my analytical abilities? She glanced at the inkwell. "Based on the size of the container, my lord, and assuming the glass is of uniform thickness, it could hold no more than four point three two five ounces. I would have to hold it to determine exactly how much it currently contains." She heard a strangled noise beside her, and turned to see Susan covering her face with both hands.

"Ah," Vetinari responded, "it seems my guess was incorrect. I was concerned you were either an imbecile, or a mute, considering that Lady Sto Helit seems intent on speaking for you." Myria processed his words, looking for the trap, and realized that he was not, in fact, insulting her, but was aiming yet another verbal barb at Susan. And I have thoroughly misjudged his intent in asking the question.

Myria shook her head slightly. "I believe, Lord Patrician, that you are utilizing sarcasm. I am afraid I am not proficient in its use."

There was another long silence. "I see. Then I will attempt to restrain myself. Now, since we are being honest with each other, and I dislike repeating myself, I await your answer to my previous question."

Myria glanced at Susan, who seemed locked in her own internal struggle, and considered her options. Telling the truth seemed out of the question but… Lying to this man would be a very very poor decision. "I am afraid… it is complicated, my lord."

"And I am a simple man. Use small words."

"I put the gold there."

"Inside the stones."

"Yes."

"Which, I have no doubt, had been in place years before you leased this property, as Lord Rust insists."

"Yes."

Vetinari continued to regard Myria carefully. "Lady LeJean, let us, for a moment, assume that I believe you. Let us assume, for the sake of argument, that you have the power to, for example, create pure gold from nothing, and place it inside the flagstones of a residence. Short of demonstrating how you performed this astounding and troubling feat, what proof can you provide, that will allow me to instruct the Commander of the City Watch to release the gold to you?"

Myria examined the words he used. There was a danger here in the way this human used words. He has manipulated Susan, she realized. And now he will decide whether I am to be trusted. "I do not believe that there is any other evidence that I could provide that would meet this criteria."

"So you see the quandary I find myself in. Because, strange as it may sound, I find that I believe you rather than Lord Rust, a fact that you will not repeat outside of this office. My belief is as much due to a deep understanding of Rust as it is due to anything you might say or do. But regardless-" There was the sound of Susan clearing her throat, causing Vetinari to pause. The moment stretched on for a few more while he examined her as a lizard would a particularly interesting insect.

Susan for her part, seemed to struggle between patience and anger.[4]

"Ah, Lady Sto Helit. I had forgotten you were here. You have something to add?"

"I have a solution, my lord, to your quandary."

"Enlighten me. In what manner can this weighty matter be taken from my weary shoulders?"

"Lady Myria can invoke the Protocol of Lord Periwinkle."

Vetinari's chief clerk stepped from the side of the desk and whispered for several moments into Vetinari's ear. "I see. Well, that would indeed save me the trouble of listening to what is likely to be hours upon hours of tedious argument. You do understand, Lady LeJean, that you will require an advocate for that process? And that Lord Rust will, doubtless, be represented by Mr. Slant?"

Myria opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. "I was not aware. But surely obtaining an advocate will not be a problem?"

"For every problem, I am told, there is a at least one solution. But at times the price is dear." He picked up another paper in front of him, and waved his hand in dismissal. "I am sure you have much business to attend to."

Myria felt the intense urge to flee, but another problem of a very different nature had been boiling away in her hindbrain since those long minutes in the waiting room. The idea of going back through it shoved it through on an express circuit.

"Lord Patrician?"

"Hmmm..?"

"Your… clock…"

Vetinari smoothly placed the paper back on his desk, and regarding Myria coolly. "Yes?"

"It appears to be… malfunctioning. The seconds are… incorrect."

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating. Do you know, Lady LeJean, that we placed that clock in the waiting area over five years ago, and you are the first individual to have suggested it might be malfunctioning?"

"I am… fascinated by things… that… measure things."

"Indeed. Drumknott, do you happen to know who designed that particular clock?"

"Yes my lord. I believe it was one Mister B. S. Johnson. One of his more functional results."

"I see. Unfortunately, Lady LeJean, I can think of only one person in all of Ankh Morpork who might have been a match for Mister Johnson's unique… yes that is the right word… unique brand of genius. And I say unfortunately, because Mr. Clockson is no longer available to us. I understand you had business dealings with him yourself, did you not? Ah, are you unwell my lady?" Vetinari glanced at Susan. "Perhaps you should help Lady LeJean back to the bakery, I do believe she has had enough excitement for one morning."

With Drumknott's assistance, Susan was only too glad to oblige.

The faster I am away the presence of that smug, self-satisfied, arrogant… well the better for both of us.

Myria was running on backup systems. Legs and lungs and heart working on autopilot as large portions of her brain were walled off behind a large double-bolted door with a big "Do Notte Disturbe Any Further" sign hanging on the handle. Inside, a committee was having an emergency meeting.

This human knows, without doubt. He knows exactly what and who I am, and he is deciding what to do about me.

He is more terrifying than Mister White, axe or no axe.

I am doomed.

When Drumknott returned to the Oblong Office, he found Vetinari standing at the window, gazing at the city. "I do not believe Lady Sto Helit is favorably disposed toward you, my lord."

"Yes, though it took some effort. I could not make it either easy or pleasant for her." Vetinari sighed. "She does so treasure the illusion of her modest and above all mundane lifestyle. Imagine the disservice were I to allow her easy use of her title whenever she pleases, until the temptation to do so frequently were more than she could resist. Titles, Drumknott, must be equal part blessing and curse, or they quickly become a source of misplaced pride. This is the lesson that Rust seems to have forgotten, if the Rust lineage ever allowed him to learn it."

"And Lady LeJean?"

"Ah that is more difficult. The question of who owns the gold is rather a trivial one, frankly. The real problem is the existence of the gold and of LeJean herself. Do you remember the incident with the Agataean tourist?"

"It was before my time, milord, but I have read the reports regarding Mr. Twoflower and his impact on the economy of the city."[5]

"This is even more problematic. Both LeJean and gold in small doses do no harm, but in the extreme either could distort the functioning of the city to the point where they must be plucked from it, for our own protection of course." Vetinari frowned. "It would be a pity. She is a remarkable… individual."

"Then the hearings Lady Sto Helit suggested are not necessary?"

"Necessary and critical, Drumknott, but not for the reason stated. Many things can be brought to light during such a process. And with that, please send out the letters we drew up this morning to Lord Rust, Lady LeJean, and Archchancellor Ridcully regarding the need for a representative for the hearings."

"I had intended to ask about that my lord. Your inclusion of Archchancellor Ridcully, my lord. Doesn't the protocol require three Peers?"

"In this case, Drumknott, I believe we can and should bend the rules a bit." Vetinari smiled. "I am, after all, the tyrant."

[1] Outside of trying to explain to two parents why their three-year old was not, in fact, the most intelligent and amazing child she had ever seen, destined for greatness beyond comprehension, because she managed to go potty all by herself.

[2] He just couldn't bring himself to do it…

[3] It's very similar to the feeling one gets when ones friend says "Hey man, hold my beer while I poke this badger with a spoon."

[4] This was in part due to the fact that Susan, against her entire nature and pride, had for a moment found her right hand on the verge of rising into the air to seek permission to speak! It was simply unconscionable.

[5] See Pratchett's books "The Colour of Magic" and "The Light Fantastic". Twoflower is credited with introducing the concept of insurance (along with a market-glutting quantity of gold) to Ankh Morpork, which almost caused half the city to be burnt to the ground.