“He’d last five minutes.”
“Maybe the guilds will get together and—”
“They’ll fight like—”
“—ferrets,” said Reg. “The cure’s worse than the disease.”
“Cheer up, there’ll still be a Watch.” That was Carrot.
“Yes, but Mr. Vimes’ll be out on his ear. ’cos of politics.”
Vimes decided to keep his eyes closed.
A silent crowd was waiting on the quayside when the ship finally docked. They watched Vimes and his men walk down the gangway. There were one or two coughs, and then someone called out:
“Say it ain’t so, Mr. Vimes!”
At the foot of the gangplank Constable Dorfl saluted stiffly.
“Lord Rust’s Ship Got In This Morning, Sir,” the golem said.
“Anyone seen Vetinari?”
“No, Sir.”
“Afraid to show his face!” someone shouted.
“Lord Rust Said You Were To Do Your Duty, Damn You,” said Dorfl. Golems had a certain literalness of speech.
He handed Vimes a sheet of paper. Vimes grabbed it and read the first few lines.
“What’s this? ‘Emergency Council?’ And this?…
Treason
? Against Vetinari? I’m not carrying this out!”
“Can I see, sir?” said Carrot.
It was Angua who noticed the wave, while the others were staring at the warrant. Even in human form a werewolf’s ears are pretty sensitive.
She wandered back to the quayside and looked downriver.
A wall of white water a few feet high was running up the Ankh. As it passed, boats were lifted and rocked.
It sloshed by her, sucking at the quay and making Jenkins’s boat dance for a moment. There was a crash of crockery somewhere aboard.
Then it was gone, a line of surf heading toward the next bridge. For a moment the air smelled not of the Ankh’s
eau de latrine
but of sea winds and salt.
Jenkins appeared out of his cabin and looked over the side.
“What was that? The tide changing?” Angua called up.
“We came up on the tide,” said Jenkins. “Beats me. One of those phenomena, I expect.”
Angua went back to the group. Vimes was already red in the face.
“It
has
been signed by quite a lot of the major guilds, sir,” Carrot was saying. “In fact they’re all here except the Beggars and the Seamstresses.”
“Really? Well, piss on ’em! Who are they to give
me
an order like
that
?”
Angua saw the look of pain cross Carrot’s face.
“Uh…
someone
has to give us orders, sir. In a general sort of way. We aren’t supposed to make up our own. That’s sort of…the point.”
“Yes…but…not like…”
“And I suppose they represent the will of the people—”
“That bunch? Don’t give me that rubbish! We’d have been
slaughtered
if we’d fought! And then we’d be in just the same position as we—”
“This does look legal, sir.”
“It’s…ridiculous!”
“It’s not as if
we
are accusing him, sir. We just have to make sure he turns up at the Rats Chamber. Look, sir, you’ve had a very trying time—”
“But…arrest Vetinari? I can’t—”
Vimes stopped, because his ears had caught up. And because that was the point, wasn’t it? If you could arrest anyone, then that’s what you had to do. You couldn’t turn round and say “but not
him
.” Ahmed would snigger. Old Stoneface would turn in all five of his graves.
“I can, can’t I?” he said, sadly. “Oh, all right. Put out a description, Dorfl.”
“That Will Not Be Necessary, Sir.”
The crowds moved aside as Lord Vetinari walked along the quay, with Nobby and Colon behind him. At least, if it wasn’t Sergeant Colon it was a very strangely deformed camel.
“I think I caught quite a lot of that, commander,” said Lord Vetinari. “Please do your duty.”
“All you’ve got to do is go to the palace, sir. Let’s—”
“You’re not going to handcuff me?”
Vimes’s mouth dropped open. “Why should I do that?”
“Treason is very nearly the ultimate crime, Sir Samuel. I think I should
demand
handcuffs.”
“All right, if you insist.” Vimes nodded at Dorfl. “Cuff him, then.”
“You haven’t any shackles, by any chance?” said Lord Vetinari, as Dorfl produced a pair of handcuffs. “We may as well do this thing properly—”
“No. We
don’t
have any shackles.”
“I was only trying to help, Sir Samuel. Shall we be going?”
The crowd weren’t jeering. That was almost frightening. They were just waiting, like an audience watching to see how the trick was going to be done. They parted again as the Patrician headed toward the center of the city. He stopped and turned.
“What was the other thing…oh yes, I don’t have to be dragged on a hurdle, do I?”
“Only if you’re actually executed, my lord,” said Carrot, cheerfully. “Traditionally, traitors are dragged to their place of execution on a hurdle. And then you’re hung, drawn and quartered.” Carrot looked embarrassed. “I know about the hanging and quartering but I’m not sure how you’re drawn, sir.”
“Are you any good with a pencil, captain?” said Lord Vetinari innocently.
“No, he’s not!” said Vimes.
“Do you actually
have
a hurdle?”
“
No
!” snapped Vimes.
“Oh? Well, I believe there’s a sports equipment shop in Sheer Street. Just in case, Sir Samuel.”
A figure walked across the trampled sand near Gebra, and paused when a voice very near ground level said, hopefully, “Bingeley-bingeley beep?”
The Dis-organizer felt itself being picked up.
W
HAT KIND OF A THING ARE YOU
?
“I am the Dis-organizer Mk II, with many handy hard-to-use features, Insert Name Here!”
S
UCH AS
?
Even the Dis-organizer’s tiny mind felt slightly uneasy. The voice it was speaking to didn’t sound right.
“I know what time it is everywhere,” it ventured.
S
O DO I
.
“Er…I can maintain an up-to-the-minute contacts directory…” The Dis-organizer felt movements that suggested the new owner had mounted a horse.
R
EALLY
? I
HAVE A GREAT MANY CONTACTS
.
“There you are, then,” said the demon, trying to hold on to its rapidly draining enthusiasm. “So I make a note of them, and when you want to contact them again—”
T
HAT IS GENERALLY NOT NECESSARY
. M
OSTLY, THEY STAY CONTACTED
.
“Well…do you have many appointments?” There were hoofbeats, and then no sound but rushing wind.
M
ORE THAN YOU COULD POSSIBLY IMAGINE
. N
O
…I
THINK, PERHAPS, YOUR TALENTS COULD BE BETTER EMPLOYED ELSEWHERE
…
There was more rushing wind, and then a splash.
The Rats Chamber was crowded. Guild leaders were entitled to be there, but there were plenty of other people who considered they had a right to be in at the death, too. There were even some of the senior wizards. Everyone wanted to be able to say to their grandchildren “I was there.”
*
“I feel certain I ought to be wearing more chains,” said Vetinari, as they paused in the doorway and looked at the assembled crowd.
“Are you taking this seriously, sir?” said Vimes.
“Incredibly seriously, commander, I assure you. But if by some chance I survive, I authorize you to buy some shackles. We must learn to do this sort of thing properly.”
“I shall keep them handy, I assure you.”
“Good.”
The Patrician nodded at Lord Rust, who was flanked by Mr. Boggis and Lord Downey.
“Good morning,” he said. “Can we make this quick? It’s going to be a busy day.”
“It pleases you to
continue
to make Ankh-Morpork a laughingstock,” Rust began. His glance flicked to Vimes for a moment, and wrote him out of the universe. “This is not a formal trial, Lord Vetinari. It is an arraignment so that the charges may be known. Mr. Slant tells me that it will be many weeks before a full trial can be mounted.”
“Expensive weeks no doubt. Shall we get on with it?” said Vetinari.
“Mr. Slant will read the charges,” said Rust. “But in a nutshell, as you are well aware, Havelock, you are charged with treason. You surrendered most ignobly—”
“—but I did not—”
“—and quite illegally waived all rights to our sovereignty of the country known as Leshp—”
“—but there is no such place.”
Lord Rust paused. “Are you quite sane, sir?”
“The surrender terms were to be ratified on the island of Leshp, Lord Rust. There is no such place.”
“We
passed
it on the way here, man!”
“Has anyone looked recently?”
Angua tapped Vimes on the shoulder.
“A strange wave came up the river just after we arrived, sir—”
There was some urgent conversation among the wizards, and Archchancellor Ridcully stood up.
“There seems to be a bit of a problem, your lordships. The Dean says it really
isn’t
there.”
“It’s an
island
. Are you suggesting someone’s stolen it? Are you sure you know where it is, man?”
“We do know where it is, and it isn’t there. There’s just a lot of seaweed and wreckage,” said the Dean coldly. He stood up, holding a small crystal ball in his hands. “We’ve been watching it most evenings. For the fights, you know. Of course, the picture is pretty bad at this distance—”
Rust stared at him. But the Dean was too large to be written out of the scene.
“But an entire island can’t just vanish,” said Rust.
“In theory they can’t just appear either, my lord, but this one did.”
“Perhaps it’s sunk again,” said Carrot.
Now Rust glared at Vetinari.
“Did you know about this?” he demanded.
“How could I know something like that?”
Vimes watched the faces around the room.
“You
do
know something about this!” said Rust. He glanced toward Mr. Slant, who was leafing hurriedly through a large volume.
“All I know, my lord, is that Prince Cadram has, at a politically dangerous time for him, given up a huge military advantage in exchange for an island which seems to have sunk under the sea,” said Lord Vetinari. “The Klatchians are a proud people. I wonder what they will think?”
And Vimes thought about General Ashal, standing beside Prince Cadram’s throne. Klatchians like successful leaders, he thought. I wonder what happens to the unsuccessful ones? I mean, look at what
we
do when
we
think—
Someone nudged him.
“’s us, sir,” said Nobby. “They said they didn’t have any hurdles but they do a Ping-Pong table for ten dollars. There’s a small trampoline we could drag him on but sarge thinks that’d be a bit ridiculous.”
Vimes walked out of the room, dragging Nobby with him, and pushed the little man against the wall.
“Where did you get to with Vetinari, corporal? And remember I know when you tell me lies. Your lips move.”
“We…we…we…just went on a little voyage, sir. He said I wasn’t to say we went under the island, sir!”
“So you—
Under
Leshp?”
“Nossir! We didn’t go down there! Stinking hole it was, too. Stunk of rotten eggs, the whole bloody cave, and as big as the city, believe me!”
“I bet you’re glad you didn’t go, then.”
Nobby looked relieved. “That’s right, sir.”
Vimes sniffed. “Are you using some kind of aft—”—he corrected himself—“some kind of insteadofshave, Nobby?”
“No, sir.”
“Something smells of fermented flowers.”
“Oh, it’s just a souvenir I picked up in foreign parts, sir. It kind of lingers, if you know what I mean.”
Vimes shrugged and went back into the Rats Chamber.
“—and I resent most strongly the suggestion that I would have negotiated with His Highness in the knowledge that…ah, Sir Samuel. The keys to the handcuffs, please.”
“You knew! You knew all the time!” Rust shouted.
“Is Lord Vetinari charged with anything?” said Vimes.
Mr. Slant was scrabbling through another volume. He looked quite flustered, for a zombie. His gray-green shade was distinctly greener.
“Not as such…” he muttered.
“But he
will
be!” said Lord Rust.
“Well, when you find out what it is you be sure and let me know, and I’ll go and arrest him for it,” said Vimes, unlocking the handcuffs.
He was aware of cheering outside. Nothing stayed secret very long in Ankh-Morpork. The damn island wasn’t there anymore. And, somehow, it had all worked out.
He met Vetinari’s eyes. “Piece of luck for you, eh?” he said.
“Oh, there’s always a chicken, Sir Samuel. If you look hard enough.”
The day turned out to be nearly as trying as war. At least one carpet made the flight from Klatch, and there was a constant stream of messages between the palace and the embassy. A crowd still hung around outside the palace. Things were happening, and even if they did not know what they were they weren’t going to miss them. If any history was going to occur, they wanted to watch it.
Vimes went home. To his amazement, the door was answered by Willikins. He had his sleeves rolled up and was wearing a long green apron.
“You? How the hell did you get back so quickly?” said Vimes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be impolite—”
“I inveigled myself onto Lord Rust’s ship in the general confusion, sir. I did not wish to let things go to rack and ruin here. The silverware is frankly disgusting, I am afraid. The gardener does not have the least idea how to do it. Allow me to apologize in advance for the shocking condition of the cutlery, sir.”
“A few days ago you were biting people’s noses off!”
“Ah, you must not believe Private Bourke, sir,” said the butler, as Vimes stepped in. “It was only one nose.”
“And now you’ve hurried back to polish the silver?”
“It does not do to let standards slip, sir.” He stopped. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Did we win?”
Vimes looked into the round pink face.
“Er…we didn’t lose, Willikins,” he said.