Havelock Vetinari sat forward in his chair, steepled his fingers, and peered over them at the man standing in front of him.

"Ah. Professor Rincewind."

The wizard looked back at him, miserably. "Yes, my lord."

Vetinari paused, allowing the silence to become ever so slightly uncomfortable, before continuing. "We appreciate your prompt attendance this evening."

Rincewind glanced quickly to his left, where Commander Vimes of the City Watch was leaning against the wall, seemingly engrossed in lighting a cigar and paying no apparent mind to the two men.

"Well. The commander was quite keen that you not be kept waiting, my lord." When he interrupted my supper, he didn't add. His eyelid twitched briefly as he remembered the piles of buttered potatoes that had just been placed down before him, and that he had been so cruelly forced to abandon. He would be dreaming about those beautiful mounds for days.

Vimes took a contemplative puff of the cigar, but remained quiet.

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. In any event, I'm afraid we need to dispense with the pleasantries and come swiftly to the crux of the matter."

Rincewind blinked. Those were the pleasantries…?

"Of course, my lord. And…what is the matter…?"

There was a snort from the direction of the commander, and Rincewind thought he saw a flash of irritation pass across the Patrician's face; it was gone in an instant, and when he looked at Vimes the man was maintaining a stolid poker face.

Vetinari sighed. "Where is your magic box on legs, currently, Professor?"

Rincewind frowned. "The Luggage? I've no idea. It comes and goes as it pleases, to be truthful." His highly attuned internal warning system – which had been on full alert since Vimes had dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and said Lord Vetinari wants to talk to you, Mister Rincewind – started trying to insist he make a run for the nearest exit, on the basis that anyone asking about the Luggage was exceedingly likely to follow the question up with something unpleasant. However, he was also aware that running from Vetinari was the very definition of the term exercise in futility, and so he squashed down the impulse. "Why do you ask, sir?"

Vetinari had picked up a pen, and now he tapped it on the desk a few times, staring at Rincewind and making him feel like a particularly dull specimen being examined under a microscope. His feet twitched, and he made a concerted effort to stand still.

"Are you able to summon it?"

He's ignored the question. That's probably not good. "Mmm. Not…as such."

Vetinari narrowed his eyes. "And what, precisely, does that mean…?"

"Oh. Just that it sometimes turns up when I'm…in…um…danger." Rincewind's brain caught up with his mouth and he trailed off. The expression on Vetinari's face was undoubtedly one that had been seen by countless small, furry animals right before they became something's lunch.

Oh, bugger. He glanced at Vimes, but there was no help there; the man was blowing smoke rings towards the ceiling.

"Ah. Fascinating." Vetinari paused. "Tell me, Professor; do you expect it to arrive soon …?"

Rincewind swallowed hard at the insinuation. "I am a wizard, you know, sir."

Well, technically.

He ignored the little voice and continued. "The, er, University wouldn't be very happy, if anything happened to me."

…I'm almost certain they wouldn't be happy.

Well, eighty percent certain.

Alright, maybe sixty five percent. I'm sure the Archchancellor would at least notice I wasn't there…

…eventually.

He noted the look of scepticism on Vetinari's face, and was struck by inspiration. "I'm sure the Librarian would miss me."

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes. You are his assistant, are you not? I dare say he may note the sudden lack of bananas."

"Mm. Yes. He does get quite cross about this sort of thing, though."

There was a pause as the three men considered the kind of problems a quite cross 300lb orangutan could cause.

Vetinari sighed again, and threw a look at Vimes.

The commander took another puff on his cigar, and finally spoke. "Right. Since I don't want to have to arrest a rampaging bloody monkey, I suggest you find a way to track down the damned box and bring it here. It obeys you, doesn't it?"

Rincewind winced. "Ye-es. Kind of?"

Vimes gave him a look that said, I'm trying to bloody help you, here, and you're not making it easy.

"I mean, yes. I'm sure I can persuade it to come with me." Rincewind looked between the two men again. "But why? What are you going to do to it?" He wasn't sure there was anything Vetinari could actually do to hurt it, but he had grown…well. Not fond of it, exactly, but certainly used to having it around, and he wouldn't want to see anyone try to damage it. Although he conceded that this was partly because of the mess it would undoubtedly make of the unsuspecting assailant.

Vetinari drummed his fingers on the desk, then finally said, "we will need you to open it. We believe it has… eaten …something of great importance."

Oh, gods. Rincewind closed his eyes briefly. "Ah. May I ask what…?"

He heard that snorting noise again, but didn't even bother to look at Vimes, because now the look on the Patrician's face was drawing the entirety of his focus.

Vetinari regarded him cooly. "My secretary."

From off to the side there was the sound of someone trying very hard not to laugh.

Rincewind blinked. "Mr Drumknott?"

"Yes."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Vimes' shoulders shake.

"Oh dear. Are you sure…? It doesn't tend to eat people." He paused, and then the sheer scale of the lie made him wince and forced him to add, "well, not often. Not unless they were doing something to threaten it." Seeing an opportunity, he added, "or threaten me , of course."

Vetinari's look turned withering. "There was a witness. Of course, their testimony is somewhat…confused, since they are currently taking quite a lot of medication in an attempt to forget exactly what they saw."

Rincewind gave a sympathetic grimace. "Ah. And was your man, um… provoking it, possibly?"

"Drumknott is perhaps the least provocative man on the Disc, Professor. He is almost painfully inoffensive. However, he is also an integral part of my operation here and if he is not able to be…retrieved…I'm afraid there will be repercussions."

Rincewind could pick a threat out of a seemingly innocuous lineup of sentences ten times out of ten, and this one was doing the verbal equivalent of holding a knife behind its back whilst looking at the ceiling and whistling. "Right. I mean, I'm sure we can get him back." He thought about it. "Possibly even freshly laundered."

He watched as Vetinari looked at Vimes, and the commander gave a very small half-shrug.

"Very well," Vetinari said. "I suggest you are back here by dawn, with the box, Professor. Is that clear?"

"Ah. Yes, my lord. Dawn. Righto." Rincewind was already backing towards the door, feeling instinctively that turning his back on the Patrician would not be wise. He caught Vimes' eye as he did, and thought he detected a slight flash of sympathy from the man, but since the rest of his posture was giving off waves of irritation, he didn't put much stock in him being of any more help. He had reached the door and was fumbling behind himself for the handle when Vetinari spoke again.

"Oh, and Professor? I understand your specialism is Cruel and Unusual Geography, yes?"

Rincewind hesitated. "Um. Yes."

"Hmm. I would encourage you very strongly to confine your current… geography …to the city. His Excellency has a reach that extends across the Disc, and a well-deserved reputation for tenacity . He also gets rather disgruntled whenever he must coordinate a manhunt, and I, in turn, get very disgruntled when Commander Vimes is disgruntled. So, Professor; do not make him chase you. Do you understand?" Vetinari raised an eyebrow.

"Ah. Yes, sir. I'm sure we can get this sorted without any more trouble," Rincewind said glumly.

Vetinari stared at him for another few seconds, and then raised a hand in a dismissive gesture. Rincewind turned and darted through the door, into the comparative safety of the corridor.

ooOoo

Vetinari watched the wizard leave and then sat back in his chair. "Do you think he will be successful?"

"Ha! He will if he knows what's bloody good for him." Vimes moved to the chair opposite Vetinari and sat down, making himself comfortable. "Ridcully told me he's never passed an exam. Shouldn't even be a wizard, apparently. Can't do magic."

Vetinari tilted his head. "Oh, I don't know about that. I might suggest his continued existence is a kind of magic. The man has lurched from one seemingly inescapable danger to another for the better part of his life, and yet he is still alive and - I am assured - intact. Perhaps that itself is a form of wizardry. He has proven useful on several occasions, for precisely that reason."

Vimes grunted. "What'll you do if he can't get Drumknott back?"

The Patrician stood and walked to the drink's cabinet. He poured a small measure of whisky for himself, and a fruit-based drink from a carafe he'd started keeping for Vimes when the man had become a more… informal visitor. He handed the glass to him and then leaned back against the desk as he took a sip of the whisky.

"I have not yet decided. The…creature…is allegedly sapient." He looked up at the ceiling. "Perhaps I should put it on trial."

Vimes blinked. "That would be one for the history books. But I hope you're not expecting me to bloody arrest it."

Vetinari pondered the image of Vimes attempting to shackle the homicidal box. "Hmm. Perhaps the professor should answer for its crimes, instead."

"What would the charge be? Murder? With his luck Trooper would be struck by lightning at the gallows or something. Anyway, the wizards would never let that fly."

Vetinari swilled the liquid round in his glass and stared at it. "Indeed. Maybe a lesser charge. Possession of a dangerous weapon? Owning an unlicensed animal?"

Vimes raised an eyebrow. "Theft?"

"Of my secretary?" Vetinari looked at him flatly as Vimes tried to bite back another grin. "I'm glad you are finding this amusing, Commander."

"Sorry. It's been a long day. Ridcully took some persuading to even let me on the bloody premises. They really don't like it when you interrupt their dinner." He took a final puff of his cigar and then stubbed it out in a small pocket ashtray, and tucked it away.

"Oh? I hope the Archchancellor wasn't being obstructive of a watch investigation."

Vimes frowned. "I'm not arresting him as well. He's almost as unpredictable as the blasted box."

The two men looked at one other for a minute, each contemplating the unique challenges presented by running a city like Ankh Morpork.

Finally, Vetinari blinked and sighed. "Indeed." He swallowed down the rest of the whisky and put the empty glass on his desk. Vimes watched him carefully, then cleared his throat.

"I might wait here, if it's alright with you. Don't see much point in going home. He could be back any time."

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. "Of course, Vimes." The commander was always an entertaining distraction. "I don't believe we'd finished our last game of 'Thud!'?"

He watched the man try to suppress a wince and, when he felt he'd suffered enough, continued, "…unless you had something else in mind to pass the time?"

Vimes went an interesting shade of pink, and Vetinari smiled.

Oh yes; a very entertaining distraction…

ooOoo

Rincewind slunk through the streets of the city. He had already tried stopping suddenly and spinning around, in the hope that the Luggage might be following behind him like a tiger stalking its prey, but sadly it didn't appear to be tailing him tonight.

The Luggage was sapient pearwood and half storage trunk, half guard dog, although few guard dogs had hundreds of tiny feet and forty huge teeth. Rincewind had reached a point in his life whereby danger no longer waited for him around every corner; he wasn't important enough for anyone to want to assassinate, and in any event, the Archchancellor had made it clear he frowned on that kind of thing between wizards. Rincewind's days mostly consisted of large meals and long naps, with the odd exception being those occasional times when he was needed to save the universe again. Thankfully, these occurrences seemed to be becoming rarer.

But all of this meant that the Luggage was by now feeling somewhat unneeded, and he had noticed it had started to wander off on its own more often; a fact which had initially made Rincewind feel vaguely relieved and then oddly wistful, but was now just making him bloody terrified. Vetinari was not the kind of tyrant who would have a man hanged for no reason, but Rincewind suspected that 'no reason' would not include the murder of his private secretary; he had listened to Ridcully complain about how hard it was to keep good admin staff far too many times not to come away with an appreciation of that.

However, there was meant to be some kind of psychic or metaphysical link between a man and his luggage, and so, in theory at least, he knew how to get whatever passed for the creature's attention.

He had just been really hoping to avoid it.

With a heavy sigh, he turned and headed for the Drum.

The bar was busy, it being a Friday evening, and Rincewind pushed his way through a throng of people who had been drinking since the factories had shut down for the week, some six hours earlier.

Here goes nothing.

He stopped next to one of the larger groups, then cleared his throat and said loudly, "Did you see the Miner's game last night? That goal should never have been allowed."

The barman was already reaching for his club as the silence spread across the crowd like an oil spill in a crystalline forest pool. Rincewind closed his eyes and counted down.

From somewhere in the ether there was a soft clicking sound, as of a pair of dice being rolled.

Thirty seconds later, Rincewind was thrown bodily out of a window and landed on a soft pile of rubbish in the alley outside, completely unscathed. He shoved himself upright, but the tap-tap-tap of tiny feet was nowhere to be heard.

Bugger.

He stood, pushing his voluminous sleeves up to his elbows, and walked determinedly back across the road. However, before he could head back inside a large runaway cart ploughed in front of him - missing him by mere inches - and crashed into the doorway of the bar, blocking it completely. Rincewind watched as one of the wheels rolled away down the street in full compliance with narrative law.

Huh.

Rincewind looked around, and conceded he'd been thwarted.

Right. Plan B.

There was a dwarf bar a few streets over; time to go and order a short.

The dice rolled again...

ooOoo

Thirty minutes later, Rincewind was sitting on the pavement outside The Dirty Rat, awkwardly patting a crying dwarf on the shoulder.

"Look. I am sorry," he said, feeling embarrassed. "I didn't mean to actually upset anyone."

"No, no. It's fine," sniffed the dwarf, wiping a hand noisily across his nose. "It's just, I haven't been called that since I was a young dwarf, back in the mines."

Rincewind blinked. "Other dwarfs called you that ? In the mines? That seems…mean."

The dwarf shook his head. "Oh, no! It was a term of affection. We all had nicknames like that. You just took me right back. That real… hole feeling. You know?"

Rincewind didn't know, but he made a vaguely non-committal noise anyway. "Er. Right. Only, you wouldn't be feeling like you wanted to, I don't know. Chop off my knees, or anything, would you?"

The dwarf looked at him oddly. "What do you take me for, mister? We're not all knee chopping barbarians, you know." He stood up and scowled at Rincewind, and then wandered off down the street, shaking his head in disgust.

From somewhere in the distance, a clock struck midnight. Rincewind sighed.

He'd really been hoping to avoid Plan C.

ooOoo

Since the ranks of the watch had swelled, the Shades had become slightly less of a no-go zone, and walking around the area after dark was now considered to be merely attempted - as opposed to certain - suicide.

Rincewind was tonight reassuring himself with this thought repeatedly as he headed down Treacle Alley.

The dice rolled…

The three unlicenced thieves who had been following him for a while now didn't hear the clicking sounds, being, as they were, men of singular focus. The reason they had not already made their presence known was because the group had once encountered Mustrum Ridcully during another such moonlight excursion; an event which had resulted in them developing a healthy sense of caution around wizards. This one, however, didn't appear to be carrying a crossbow, and his body language was giving off the kind of vibes which suggested not so much hunter as prey , so they were feeling optimistic that the average number of ears in the group wouldn't drop any lower with a confrontation.

Rincewind turned down a dead end, and froze. The air took on the greasy taste of tin.

AH. GOOD EVENING AGAIN, RINCEWIND. The tall, robed figure was sitting on Binky, scythe in hand, and the apparition filled the entire end of the alley.

Oh, hell.

" Erm. Hello." Rincewind hesitated; he'd never quite figured out the etiquette in these situations. "Um. It's been a while...? Er. How have you been?"

Death tilted his head to one side. "BUSY."

"Ah. Of course." His brain was being spectacularly unhelpful, and he felt his tongue start to run away from him.

He wished it would have taken the rest of him with it.

"I heard there was a plague in Klatch, last month. Ten thousand dead," he babbled. "That must have kept you on your toes."

Death's hood dipped as he looked down at his feet and considered this. "I AM ALWAYS ON MY TOES, RINCEWIND."

At this point, the men rounded the corner and saw Rincewind talking to a wall. They glanced at each other nervously, but felt they'd committed and backing out now wouldn't be good for their reputation.

"Hey! Wizard!"

Rincewind's sense of self preservation made a determined effort to get his legs moving, but there was nowhere to go that wouldn't involve running straight at the men blocking the exit. In any event, the alternative was going back to Vetinari empty handed, which held its own terrors, although they were, of course, far more distant ones and when it came to the mathematics of cowardice, a threat in the hand was worth two in the bush. Still, he turned to face the men and forced himself to stop twitching.

"Ah. Hello, gentlemen. How can I assist you tonight?"

The leader materialised a knife and waved it in Rincewind's general direction. "You can give us all your money, and anything else you've got in those pockets. And no funny business, Mister Magician. If I see those fingers move, I'll gut you before you have a chance to say abra-ka-bloody-dabra."

Rincewind sweated. "Erm. Right. Sorry, but…no."

The men watched as his eyes flickered around the alley, as if looking for something.

The leader frowned, feeling vaguely unsettled. "Look. We just want your cash. Hand it over and maybe we'll let you live. We might even let you keep most of your bits."

"Ah. I'm afraid it's still a no." Rincewind tried to peer around the men. He paused and frowned, then repeated more loudly, "I said, IT'S STILL A NO. YOU'LL HAVE TO KILL ME."

The men glanced at each other again. Something was definitely odd here.

Feeling the hair on the back of his neck prickle, the leader's scowl deepened. He took a step towards Rincewind. "Listen. Give me your bloody money, alright?" He thrust the knife out further for additional emphasis.

On the very edge of hearing there was the sound of many, many footsteps, seemingly coming from the air itself.

Rincewind started grinning madly. "Ah…very sorry about this."

The men looked around, startled, as the noise of the footsteps got louder. "What the hell is that?!"

Rincewind closed his eyes, and then after a minute stuck his fingers in his ears for good measure.

After another minute he started humming loudly; it was slightly off key, but no one seemed to be in any position to complain.

After a final minute, the noises stopped, and he carefully opened his eyes. The alley was empty, and the Luggage was dragging its disconcerting tongue back beneath its lid. Binky appeared to have trotted off at some point during the proceedings, presumably taking The Stealer of Souls and Ultimate Reality with him.

"Ah. There you are." Rincewind frowned at the box. "You and me need to have a chat about your…nocturnal activities."

The Luggage contrived to look defiant.

"Don't give me that look! How many times have I told you, you can't just go around eating people!"

There was a significant pause, which was an impressive feat in the silence.

Rincewind shook his head in response. "No - you know very well I'm not talking about this. There's a difference between saving me and eating people's secretaries."

The Luggage begrudgingly conveyed mild embarrassment.

"Right. Well. You can come with me and cough him up for the Patrician, and we won't say anymore about it. But I don't expect to have this conversation ever again, understand?"

The homicidal suitcase shuffled sheepishly, which Rincewind took as acquiescence.

"Come on then," he muttered grumpily, and the pair traipsed out of the alley and headed for the palace.

ooOoo

It was 2am by the time Rincewind and the Luggage were being shown back into the Oblong Office. He was slightly surprised to see Commander Vimes was still there, but now the man was lounging comfortably in one of the chairs near the window, drinking a mug of coffee. He stood up and stretched as Rincewind entered, then walked over to stand behind the desk next to Vetinari, putting the coffee down next to some papers.

Vetinari glanced at it, and then up at Vimes, who sighed and moved the mug to the other end of the desk.

Rincewind couldn't help but notice they kept the desk between themselves and the Luggage.

The Luggage shuffled forward and sat itself down in the middle of the room. Both men eyeballed it, somewhat warily.

"Professor Rincewind. You have returned, with the box, and with several hours still to spare; how fortuitous. My congratulations."

"Yes, my lord. Um. Thank you."

"Of course, it has not yet returned Drumknott." Vetinari paused and tilted his head. "Are you familiar with the concept of quantum , Professor?"

Rincewind looked blank. "Is that what Stibbons keeps bleating on about?"

"Indeed. A very bright young man, I assume. Or possibly a complete idiot, I suppose, but we may never be able to know. I understand that is also quantum ." Vetinari sighed, and Rincewind wondered, not for the first time, just what it was like inside the man's head.

Vetinari had continued. "I believe the original theory referred to cats, however in this case, until your box is opened, we can posit that my secretary is in one of three states, and that the act of opening it will determine which of these he is in."

Rincewind looked at Vimes for help, but the man just shrugged.

"Ah, three states…?"

"Yes. Alive, Dead or Bloody Furious." Vetinari raised an eyebrow. "Drumknott has never been known to experience anything beyond mild irritation, which leaves your odds at around fifty-fifty, Professor. Would you care to place a wager…?"

Rincewind winced. He had a horrible feeling he may have used up a lot of his luck already tonight. "I think I'll decline, your lordship." He cleared his throat, and directed his next comment at the Luggage. "Come on. Spit him out."

They watched as the Luggage ignored him. Vetinari pointedly drummed his fingers on the desk.

Rincewind used his foot to give the Luggage a nudge that promised, next time, to be a kick.

There was an ominous creak - which Rincewind recognised as being entirely for effect – and the lid opened slowly. Sat upright inside it was Drumknott, who blinked in the light.

"Oh. Hello."

Rincewind stopped holding his breath, and saw Vimes do the same. Vetinari appeared entirely unfazed.

"Ah. Good evening, Drumknott," the Patrician said. "I'm pleased you could rejoin us."

Drumknott looked around, confused, and then stood up unsteadily; Rincewind moved forward to grab his elbow, then helped him climb out from the Luggage. He guided the secretary to one of the chairs and the little man collapsed into it.

"Are you alright?" Rincewind asked.

"Er. Yes?" Drumknott replied. "Where was I?"

Rincewind opened his mouth to respond, but Vetinari interrupted.

"I think that will be all for now, Professor. Kindly take your box and ensure that this never happens again."

"With respect, your lordship, that would be easier if I knew what Mr Drumknott was doing before he was, um, eaten."

Vetinari sighed. "Drumknott, were you doing anything that may have provoked this…angry box?"

Drumknott frowned slightly. "Ah, no, I don't think so, sir. Actually, I think it might have saved my life."

They all looked at the Luggage, which now seemed to be radiating an air of smugness.

The Patrician raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? How so?"

Drumknott cleared his throat. "I was undertaking a…particular task for you, sir. And the man I was meeting produced a crossbow and proceeded to fire it at me. This…creature…came seemingly out of nowhere, and, um, yes, swallowed me. But only, I believe, to prevent me from being shot."

Vetinari frowned, and looked at Rincewind. "Is that possible?"

Rincewind shrugged. "It does save people, sometimes. Usually just me, though. I suppose it may have taken some kind of a liking to Mister Drumknott?" He thought for a minute, then turned back to the Luggage. "Have you been saving anyone else?"

The Luggage indicated – somehow – that it may indeed have come to the aid of one or two other people over recent months, but that this was not to be taken as any kind of indication that its essential nature had in any way irrevocably altered.

"Huh." Rincewind saw the blank look on Vetinari's face. "It says yes."

Vetinari glanced up at Vimes. "Perhaps you should have another chat with our… witness , commander."

"Exactly what I was just thinking, sir." Vimes looked unhappy, which meant that very shortly several other people were going to be looking similarly unhappy when the commander turned up, unhappily, on their doorstep at 3am.

Vetinari frowned. "Very well. I hope for your sake, Professor, that this heralds the onset of a bright new streak of civic mindedness in your… pet . The city, on this occasion, expresses its gratitude. And now; please take it away."

Rincewind grinned somewhat inanely and hissed, "come on !" at the Luggage as he backed away. Vetinari stared at them as they left.

Outside, Rincewind sagged slightly with relief. The Luggage was still looking smug. He narrowed his eyes at it.

"Yes, alright. You got away with that. But you're lucky they didn't ask why you held onto him for as long as you did."

The Luggage indicated that all change was a process and that even with the best of intentions it was, like all creatures, subject to the occasional setback.

"Hmm." Rincewind frowned. "Is there anyone else in there that you've saved ?"

The Luggage suggested there was not, or at least, not anyone who would be missed.

Rincewind sighed, and then set off back towards the university, vaguely daring to hope that the kitchen would have saved him some potatoes.

The Luggage trotted along after him.