[A/N: Thanks again to my regular readers and most especially to Bookworm Gal, Kristina, MJ, Mikell, SSC, and Fledge. Your comments are what keep me writing. Thank you.]

Chapter 29 - A Clash of Titans

In the Rats Chamber[1], Lord Vetinari surveyed the four… anthropoids seated before him.

Well, two were seated.

A third was rather small, drooling slightly, and cradled in the lap of the first.

The fourth had some difficulty with the whole seating concept and was, more or less, draped over various portions of the chair and table in front of it. It was the best he could do really. On the table in front of it was a largish bowl containing bananas, oranges, and a couple of coconuts.[2]

"This is, perhaps, not what I had in mind," mused Vetinari quietly, as he took in the sight of a Lady Sybil Ramkin-Vimes getting baby Sam to sleep after just finishing providing a most nutritious meal. This vision was only topped by the sight of a fourteen-stone[3] orangutan carefully consuming an orange and throwing the peels behind his chair.

Lord Selachii[4] made vague noises of discontent. "I agree, Lord Vetinari, it's most irregular, indeed."

The Librarian stopped working on the orange for a moment, gave Lord Selachii an inscrutable look, and then turned his attention to baby Sam. "Ook?"[5]

Baby Sam, by now fully asleep, was carefully collected by his nursemaid and taken to a makeshift nursery that had been set up in one of the less-used parlours of the palace. Vetinari's clerks really didn't know what to make of the whole thing, but were playing along gamely. It would be a miracle if he was not buried in floppy bunnies and makeshift toys by the end of the week.

"Most definitely irregular, indeed." Selachii added, staring into his lap. It seemed the Librarian, distracted by the small human, had misfired and a piece of orange peel had landed squarely on Selachii's trousers.

Vetinari's eyes followed the trajectory of another peel. "I do see your point, my lord. But, we must carry on with what we are given. Drumknott, will you be so unkind as to bring in Mister Slant? We may as well begin."

Upon entering and taking in the sight before him, Slant wasted no time. "Lord Vetinari, I must object. Insisting that the city's choice for the panel be a wizard from Unseen University is one thing. But this, this borders on the insulting."

The room went suddenly very still.

"Ook?"

It was a quiet, dangerous interrogative. The kind that you can only get from an anthropoid who is trying to convey, in the most gentle but firm way possible, that he can tear off your own limbs and beat you into a formaldehyde-laced cloud of microparticles with them.

Slant stepped back, his righteous ire fading remarkably quickly. "On the other hand. We see no actual… prohibition of sentient nonhumans serving in such matters." He cleared his throat and put on what was supposed to be a "game face" but looked more like he was attempting to pass his own lower colon. "It appears we are setting new precedent. I look forward to publishing an article in the Ankh Journal of Jurisprudence regarding the results."

"Excellent. And do you have any objections to the other two?"

There was, unnoticed by Slant, the quiet sound of a door opening behind him as he considered. "None, though I must say I am surprised to see Lady Sybil agreeing to represent someone she has no knowledge of, who in addition has no known connections to Ankh Morpork at all, and not least is of unknown character in a foreign-"

"Objection!" The door slammed shut for maximum effect, and a figure, dressed in an ill-fitting suit and sweating profusely, stormed toward the table with a rolling gait. "If we're starting the hearing already, then as the requestor we get first-"

Slant's turned, and his face twisted into an expression not seen since Mad Lord Winder ate a 15lb block of cheese. "YOU!"

Bodkins Hardlee turned his soft round face toward Slant, and smiled the smile of a cat that has just consumed an entire pet shop's worth of canaries. "You damn betcha."

"You dare to show your pestilent-" There were at least two gasps in the room at that. The Librarian actually stopped peeling his orange. Maybe, he thought, the whole thing wouldn't be as boring as one of Ridcully's pep talks after all.

"Oh I dare, Tinderbox."

Lord Selachii's eyebrows went up at that, and Slant's face turned from powdery white to something approaching washed-out mauve. "You… you amateur, showboating…"

"Genius?" Hardlee supplied helpfully, accompanied by a big grin.

"Philanthroper!"

Hardlee gave a mock gasp, "you wound me sir!" Then pointed at Slant's trousers. "Liar liar, pants on fire!"

Sybil and Selachii gasped as Slant jerked around, almost losing one of his arms in the process, frantically looking for smoke or flames for a few seconds[6] before realizing there was nothing there. "You insolent…" his jaw worked, with a sound of bone grinding on bone. "I will have you before the guild for this ins-"

There was a loud smash as Drumknott, in full view of Vetinari, dropped a rather expensive rat-themed vase to the floor, where it shattered into pieces. "Oh dear, Drumknott, how unfortunate." Vetinari surveyed the temporarily quiet room. "Though it appears to have served its purpose." He smiled thinly. "Gentlemen, and I use the word in its broadest possible capacity, while I am sure everything you have alleged about each other is purely nonfiction, I am left to assume that Mister…" he gestured at the newcomer.

"Hardlee, my lord."

"I am left to assume that Mister Hardlee is, in fact, Lady LeJean's advocate? I had understood from certain quarters that she had been unable to procure one. Are you in fact a member of the Guild in good standing?" Drumknott leaned in, whispering. "Oh? I see. Yes." He cleared his throat. "Well, it appears you are in some sort of standing with the guild, at least as of this moment."

Vetinari leaned forward, splaying his hands on the table. "As to his objection, I am afraid, Mister Slant, that Mister Hardlee is correct. This is not the proper time, nor venue for discussing either client's virtues, or lack thereof, nor those of opposing counsel."

Slant's jaw worked again and with a cracking sound popped fully out of joint on one side. Grabbing it and shoving it back into place, he managed to respond through clenched teeth. "Very well." But a reckoning will come for you, Mister Hardlee.

"Now, unless there are any further objections to the chosen panel members themselves?"

There was were several loud and sharp sounds, followed by uncomfortable looks at the Librarian, who could be seen cracking a coconut shell with one hand while scratching himself with the other. He looked up at the silence that spread about the room. "Ook?[7]"

"No? Then it appears my last remaining responsibility here, until a recommendation is reached, is to clarify that as the city's choice, the Librarian is, in fact, the head of this panel."

There was a chorus of protests from all three panel members.

"Ook?!"

"Most irregular"

"Really Havelock. Having a jest is one thing, but I can't abide entertainment at the expense of one of the discs defenseless creatures!"[8] This last from Lady Sybil.

"Ookeek?!"

"I assure you, Sybil, that I am quite serious. I'm sure you three will determine the best way to handle this little matter. I, unfortunately, have matters of city governance to attend to, which preclude my enjoying the proceedings. Drumknott?"

Once on the other side of the door and listening to the conversation quickly ramp up into recrimination and argument, Vetinari turned to the clerk. "You will inform me if anyone is dismembered or reduced to their component elements."

"Yes milord."

"Now, how soon shall we begin?" Queried Lady Sybil.

Slant quickly responded, "The more promptly, the better."

Hardlee favored Slant with a roguish grin, though the effect was slightly ruined as his glasses were slightly askew. "So eager to be rid of my smiling face, Mister Slant?"

"You cannot imagine."

Selachii chose this moment to interject. "Mister Slant. Mister Hardlee. Must you continue this personal attack? I'm sure I speak for us all when I say I would prefer to get to the matter at hand as quickly as possible." Selachii looked at Lady Sybil for confirmation and, to his credit, even waited for a nod from the Librarian. "Now, perhaps we should begin with Mr. Slant."

Slant coughed. "Very well. If you will excuse me for one moment." He went to the door and gestured to two pale-looking clerks from the guild, who immediately entered bearing stacks of several-inch-thick sheaves of paperwork. "You will find that these documents contain a detailed explanation of Lord Rust's ownership of the gold, along with citations of legal precedent. I have taken the liberty of having copies provided for each of you." He turned a disdainful eye on Hardlee. "Including opposing counsel, though I doubt Mister Hardlee will bother to read it."

Lord Selachii gave the document a baleful look, and Sybil paled slightly at its sheer size. The Librarian, on the other hand, took it in stride. Why, it was almost like a book, what with the pages all bound together like that.

Books, those he could deal with.

"Now, to provide a brief verbal overview of our position..."

If only Slant would shut up.

"How did the first session fare?" Myria asked Hardlee late that evening at the hotel.

"Fine fine. Slant buried them under paperwork, which only the Librarian will probably read, and blathered on for two hours about legal precedent of quod rebus omnibus est possessio.[9] By the end of that, Lord Selachii was ready for a nap, Lady Sybil was feeling a bit uncomfortable, and the Librarian had apparently been reading the entire time and had basically ignored everything Slant had said. I requested a break for lunch, making me the hero of the hour."

"And afterward?"

"I kept it simple. I explained that the gold is very clearly yours, because firstly, Lord Rust could not possibly have gold of that quantity and not beat every other peer in the city over the head with the fact. And secondly, that it would be stupid for Lord Rust to store it in a residence that he intended to lease out to others, and Lord Rust is clearly not stupid." He thought for a second. "That last may not have been the best argument to make with Lady Sybil."

"Do you mean to say, that she may in fact believe Lord Rust to be stupid?"

"Not as such. But most peers have cultivated a particular form of stubbornness that, to the untrained, can look like stupidity. In Lord Rust's case, sometimes it's difficult to tell the difference even if you know what you are looking for."

"I see. And will this work in our favor?"

"Let us hope so. Otherwise we're even more doomed than I expect."

Myria was surprised at that. "Do you not feel we have a chance at success?"

"Oh I'm sure we have practically zero chance of success! I find it pays to set expectations low, so you are never disappointed. It makes every victory a pleasant surprise. And I love pleasant surprises!" He practically beamed with enthusiasm.

He believes we are doomed, and he is ecstatic about it. "I… am not sure that this is rational."[10]

[1] The Rats Chamber is the conference room at the Palace, so called because it has decorations throughout of…well… rats. Rat frescos. Rat wall paper. Rat carpet. Pictures of rats, not actual rats… we hope. It also has the distinction of having a large axe buried in the center of the conference table, placed there by persons unknown (*cough* Vimes) as a reminder to the city leaders not to get too big for their britches.

[2] Having unlimited tropical fruits available was one of the few demands the Librarian had wrangled out of Ridcully, and there'd been a few raised eyebrows. However, if anyone dared suggest he wear two coconut halves and sing "I wanna be like you-ooh-ooh", they'd be lucky if they didn't end up a small greasy patch on the floor.

[3] About 200 lbs / 89 kilos.

[4] Lord Selachii was the patriarch of one of the more stuffy peerages in Ankh Morkpork. Basically take any stereotypically stuffy noble with a limited grasp of how the common people live, and you're on the right track.

[5] Translation: "What do you have against baby humans?"

[6] When you are a several-hundred year old zombie, the possibility of going out in a blaze of glory begins approaching a certainty.

[7] Translation: "What?! I had an itchy!"

[8] One of Sybil's failings is her absolute inability to assign any negative characteristics to animals and similar creatures*. A dragon could singe every hair from her head, attempt to bite her ear off, and she would still insist that the poor dear was probably just acting out due to prior mistreatment. It is this same mindset that allowed her to ignore the fact that the Librarian outweighed her and could arm-wrestle an elephant… and win. * Except spiders. Those suckers show their furry multi-eyed faces around Ramkin Manor, and they get the shoe.

[9] Roughly translated as "It's mine, I have it, and you don't. So there."

[10] Had Myria more life experience, a comment like that would probably have her slowly backing away and checking the location of any convenience exits or open windows. Fortunately or unfortunately, she had not yet perfected her loony radar.