Due Rimward

Part II

by Paul E. Jamison

 

All through history, there have been generals who deliberately feed terrible food to their troops, on the theory that a hungry army is an angry army, and an angry army is a strong army. It doesn't take much thought to spot the flaw in this line of reasoning.

 

Commander Vimes took a much simpler approach to feeding the Watch: a well-fed Constable is a Constable strong enough to keep up with a fleeing criminal. Vimes had a better grasp of nutrition than the average general. The Commander had hired an immigrant from Sum Dim on the Counterweight Continent for the job of Chief Cook in the Watch House kitchen. Tai Li's native language had no equivalent to the phrase "hearty meal", any more than the Inuit had a phrase for "It's cold outside".

 

Once they got back to Pseudopolis Yard, Ray, Fraser and Diefenbaker were given a meal at the Watch House cafeteria – their first meal after arriving on the Disc. There wasn't much conversation at the table; with food like they were eating you don't waste valuable chewing time on talking. Even Diefenbaker got a plate of his own with a nice juicy steak which he ate with gusto, though he looked like he expected more. Dief was having trouble with the concept of a police station without doughnuts.

 

Soon Fraser and Ray were sitting in Captain Carrot's office. Ray noted how neat Carrot's desk was; it was piled with paperwork, but they were the neatest piles of paper that he'd ever seen.

 

No, they weren't, though – he'd seen another desk that was just this neat: Fraser's, at the Canadian Consulate back in Chicago.

 

Carrot sat down behind his desk and leaned forward, smiling that ingratiating smile that Ray knew so well from somewhere else. Carrot said, "Well, that little incident with the purse snatcher was obviously confusing to you two, but I must say that you reacted admirably to a potential crisis. On gut feeling, I think you two would make fine Watchmen. So – tell me a little about yourselves. I'd be interested in hearing how you got here from this place called Canadia."

 

Ray spoke up. "Ah – I'm not from Canada. Benny here is originally from Canada, but he came down to where I'm from a couple of years back. I'm from Chicago myself."

 

Fraser said, "To elaborate – I came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my Father. Once there, I elected to stay because – well, do we need to explore the reasons why at this juncture? Anyway, I became liaison between the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and the Chicago Police Department. Ray and I are unofficial partners."

 

Carrot raised his eyebrows. "Really? So the two of you are policemen back home? And you tracked down your Father's killers? That is interesting! So you have some experience in law enforcement! This is excellent! One thing I'm curious about, though, and I may as well ask now. I've never heard of Canada or Chicago, and I'm fairly familiar with the geography of the Disc. Where exactly are these places?"

 

Carrot was surprised to see how the question made Vecchio and Fraser uncomfortable. They looked at each other nervously and said nothing.

 

Finally Fraser replied, "Ah. Captain – Chicago and Canada. Well, they – They're not on the Disc. Sir."

 

Carrot raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at Ray.

 

Ray sighed and said, "That's right, sir. We're from another planet."

 

Fraser said, "Indeed, we're mostly likely from another Universe."

 

"Another dimension, in other words."

 

"Or you might say another reality."

 

"Whatever word you're comfortable with."

 

Carrot's only reaction was to sit there and look at the two men for a few moments. Finally he said, "I have to admit that you two don't look crazy."

 

Ray said, "Thank you, sir."

 

"Once you've been in Ankh-Morpork long enough, you know what crazy looks like. And it doesn't look like you fellows."

 

"I understand, sir. We've been here one afternoon, and I think we're getting a good idea ourselves."

 

Carrot pondered this a moment before he said, "And – assuming that you're not crazy and what you say is true – how did you get here, on the Disc?"

 

"Believe me, sir, it wasn't our idea!"

 

"Ray is right, Captain. We were exposed to some apparently magical substance – a green gas – and we were transported here."

 

"H'm." Carrot leaned back and looked at a corner of the ceiling for about a minute. Finally he said, "I'll be truthful with you – your story is quite fantastic. I'm really not certain I believe it, but we must be open-minded. As I say, you don't seem crazy to me. Perhaps yours is a subtle madness. Then again, it's perfectly possible that what you're telling me is true. What should concern me is how this will affect your abilities as Constables of the Watch. And from what little I've seen, I'm already favorably impressed on that score." He smiled at them. "Why don't we just say that you two are from a country that's far, far away and leave it at that?"

 

Ray and Fraser looked at each other, and turned to nod their heads. Ray said, "This works for us."

 

"Very good. Now – you say you've been here less than a day, and already you're seeking admission to the Watch. I presume you chose us because of your background in police work. Why seek employment so soon?"

 

Fraser said, "More than anything else, we want to go back home. I'm sure you can understand that, sir. But getting back may not be so easy. It might take time. It will probably take magic. We need to find a place to stay until we can find a way to get back home, and in order to afford a place to stay, we need jobs. Once we learned of the Watch, we figured it would suit us fine."

 

Carrot's gaze had strayed to what had to be a framed picture that sat on his desk. He picked it up and looked at it closely. Ray could see the longing in the captain's face; apparently it was someone who meant something to him.

 

Carrot looked up and smiled at the two men, and he passed the picture over to Fraser. "My parents."

 

Fraser took the picture and looked at it. Something about it made him stammer a little when he said, "Ah – yes. A nice picture. They're – ah – they're nice-looking folks." He passed it over to Ray.

 

It wasn't quite a photograph. You could tell it was a painting, but it was a very, very good one. It came quite close to being a photograph without actually being one. Apparently photography had taken a different turn here.

 

The picture showed Captain Carrot, in full uniform, grinning at whatever it was they use here to make this kind of picture. He had he arms around two people who stood at his sides. In other circumstances, this would have been a touching family portrait. Except that the heads of the other people in the picture didn't quite clear Carrot's belt buckle. And they both had beards.

 

Dwarfs? Captain Carrot's parents were dwarfs?

 

Ray smiled as he handed the picture back to Carrot. "I agree – nice looking family you got there." He could only think of one other thing to say, but it would have been rude. And besides, what business was it of theirs if Carrot was adopted or not?

 

Carrot put the picture back in its place and sighed. "It's been some time since I left the dwarf mines in the mountains. I miss my parents. I write them once a week, but it's not the same. Every day I wish I could see them. I know what it's like; I miss my home, too." His eyes focussed on some place far away. "I had friends back there. Folks that mean a lot to me. There was this one girl…" He sighed. "Lovely girl. Long, silky beard…"

 

He said nothing after that. This was fine with Ray and Fraser, who were doing their best not to look dismayed.

 

Carrot looked at Ray and Fraser again and smiled. He said, "So, what you're looking for is temporary employment, until you can figure out how to get back home – wherever it is. Is that it?"

 

Fraser smiled back. "I'd say that's about it, sir."

 

"And that's what a Watch Constable is – a temporary job?" Carrot continued to smile.

 

As did Fraser. "Well, no, sir, not as such. Police duty is what we're trained for, and we both realize how serious that duty is. But we do want to go home."

 

Ray looked at the two men smiling at each other and decided that keeping quiet might be a good idea. The resemblance really was remarkable, but he was coming to the conclusion that Fraser and Carrot had much more in common than just looks.

 

When Chicago Detective Ray Vecchio first met Constable Benton Fraser of the RCMP, he had figured out that the big guy in the red suit was as naïve as they come. The mountie hadn't been in a city bigger than Moose Jaw in his entire life, and so he had no street smarts at all. Based on this, Ray had come to the conclusion that the guy in the red suit was a dimwit. It didn't take Ray long to discover how wrong this was. Innocence and stupidity are two very different things, and Benton Fraser, though he might have been one, was certainly not the other. And there were times when Ray saw that underneath all the Canadian politeness and shyness, Fraser had a will of iron. Once in awhile, on those sleepless nights when Ma Vecchio's ravioli had been a bit richer than usual, Ray would silently say a prayer that nobody in the government would get the dumb idea to declare war on Canada; if even a fraction of the folks up North were like Fraser, the USA wouldn't stand a chance.

 

And Ray could tell that, deep down, Carrot was just like Fraser.

 

Ray could guess what it had been like for the young Carrot when he'd left home. A big, strapping, innocent mountain boy – or in Carrot's case, mine boy – going to the Big City to seek his fortune and make a name for himself. It happened in Chicago all the time; it surely happened in Ankh-Morpork all the time. It probably happened in Shanghai, China, all the time, even at the height of the Cultural Revolution. "Country boy heads for Big City" wasn't headline news, but it likely wasn't headline news all over the Universe.

 

And, most of the time, the Big City would snatch up the Innocent Country Boy in its ravenous jaws, happily chew on him until all the flavor was gone and spit what was left of him out. With luck the Country Boy would be able to limp back home, be forgiven by his family, marry his childhood sweetheart and make a halfway decent life for himself; with less luck he'd stay in the Big City and have to survive in the slums.

 

Most of the time.

 

Once in awhile, somebody like Carrot – and Fraser – would come to the Big City, and the Big City would find them much harder to chew. They wore their innocence like armor, and the Big City's jaws, try as they might, could never penetrate it. In the end, there was a truce; the Innocent Country Boy would change just a little, and the Big City would change just a little, and the two would learn to get along.

 

[NOTE: Ray had started thinking like this a lot lately. He figured it came from hanging around the mountie so much.]

 

Captain Carrot asked, "So – why should the Watch take you two on if you're going to disappear at the first opportunity?"

 

Fraser replied, "We're both experienced policemen, and we're good at what we do. Why shouldn't the Watch take us on?"

 

"Magic is tricky stuff. You should realize that you may never be able to return home."

 

Fraser said, "We'd rather not think about that possibility, sir."

 

"I understand; my apologies." Carrot was silent for a few moments. Finally he said, "I think some sort of probationary period is called for. I'd prefer it if you two stayed with the Watch for at least a little while. Once that time is up, you could see about finding a way back to wherever you came from."

 

"Understood. Perfectly reasonable; wouldn't you say so, Ray?"

 

"Huh? – Oh, yeah! Yeah, stick around for a little bit! Make ourselves useful… Only fair, really!" It felt like a three-way poker game. Ray had just dropped out, but he couldn't leave the table because the duel was just too damn fascinating to watch.

 

Carrot nodded. "Fine. Now, I was thinking of a period of ninety days –”

 

Fraser interrupted. "Excuse me, sir? That seems like an inordinately long time to me. Is that quite fair to us? I was thinking more along the lines of thirty days."

 

Carrot looked at Fraser thoughtfully. "Right – this is the point where we start haggling, isn't it? I tell you that I can't accept less than ninety days, you tell me that you can't accept more than thirty. Then we both begin conceding small amounts – five days, maybe ten – until we finally agree on a figure. I'm familiar with the dwarf merchants here in the city; they do this all the time."

 

Fraser nodded. "I think that's where we are, yes."

 

"All right. Now in my experience, the final figure is usually the average of the two figures that the hagglers start out with. At least that's the most logical outcome. Do you agree?"

 

Fraser closed his eyes and said nothing; Ray guessed he must have been doing some calculations. Finally Fraser said, "That's normally correct, yes."

 

"So – why don't we just save some time and call it sixty days and go with that?"

 

Fraser replied, "Sixty days sounds fair enough. What do you think, Ray?" Ray nodded.

 

Carrot said, "Fine. We'll have to give you some training. If you're the experienced constables you say you are, a day or two ought to be enough. Once that's over, we'll swear you in. Are there any more questions?"

 

Fraser replied, "Yes, I do have one, sir? Though I'm not quite sure how to put it – but –” He spread his hands and shook his head. "A Thieves' Guild?"

 

Captain Carrot leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Yes, I see what you're getting at. It bothered me, too, at first. One of my first acts as a Watch Constable was to arrest the President of the Thieves' Guild. I had no idea how much trouble that would cause. I've learned to come to terms with the existence of such an institution, but it still troubles me. I was taught that stealing was wrong, and I would guess that you were, too.

 

"But Ankh-Morpork can be a rough place. The crime rate can be quite high unless someone does something about it. The Watch tries – A'Tuin knows we try – but there is only so much we can do. The Thieves' Guild actually reduces the level of crime in the city, and I have to admit that they do a better job than we do. The Guild sets an annual quota for an acceptable level of crime in the city, and they commit only that much and no more. There are various checks and balances so that a citizen won't be victimised more than so many times a year, and some folks make arrangements so that it's all gotten out of the way at the beginning of the year; the rest of the year they're quite safe on the streets."

 

Ray spoke up. "Kinda like taxes."

 

"Yes, something like that. From what I understand, the Guild is cheaper. And as you saw earlier, the Guild deals with unsanctioned crime swiftly and, I assure you, harshly. The young man you caught will likely become a Guild member once he's healed; he'll be lucky to have that option.

 

"I must warn you – it's not just the Thieves' Guild. There are other, similar organizations in Ankh-Morpork, like the Smugglers' Guild – I've dealt with the Ankh-Morpork Customs Authority. Incredibly bureaucratic and corrupt; you can't get anything done without large bribes, and it still takes forever to get any results. The Smugglers' Guild is faster and cheaper. I'm still uncomfortable with the Assassins' Guild –”

 

Fraser looked horrified. "An Assassin's Guild?!"

 

"Oh, yes. It's not as bad as it sounds, though. The Guild's rates are quite high, so not everyone can afford their services. The Guild offers an absolutely first-class education, so I've been told. Most folks who enroll don't really want to become assassins; they just want the education."

 

Carrot shook his head. "Still, I don't like it; the Watch has had dealings with someone in the Assassins' Guild who – ah – went beyond his Guilds' ideals. And, the very idea – well, you can guess, I'm sure.

 

"Overall, one can say that Ankh-Morpork is a corrupt city. I wish it weren't that way. I wish I could do something about it. But the Watch isn't all-powerful, and it's probably better if it weren't.

 

"But, as unpleasant as the system is, it works. That's the main thing – it works. If it weren't for the various Guilds, morally questionable as some of them are – and some are engaged in honest trade, I assure you – this city would be far worse. So – the Watch does what it can, we're cordial with the Guilds, and – well, we do what we can. So – do you still want to join the Watch?"

 

Fraser said nothing; he was visibly disturbed. Ray leaned over and softly said, "Benny – we need jobs, and like you said, this is what we know. We can't change the system, even if we stay here the rest of our lives. What else we gonna do?"

 

Finally Fraser asked Carrot, "I presume that there is still plenty for a Watch Constable to?"

 

"Oh, yes – even with the Guilds, there's still a lot to contend with. I can assure you of that."

 

"I want it to be known that I don't condone the practices of these – Guilds."

 

"That is understood. It's not a requirement of a Watch Constable. All I ask is that you don't go and arrest the President of the Thieves' Guild."

 

Fraser sighed and nodded. "All right – I'll join the watch. I won't speak for Ray."

 

"I'll join, too, Captain."

 

Carrot was all smiles. "Fine! We'll start the training tomorrow! Igor can probably find some uniforms in the Armoury to fit you. Do you have a place to stay yet?"

 

"Ah – no. We haven't had time."

 

"I see. I'd suggest Evadne Cake's boarding house. It's on Elm Street in the Shades district. Some of her clientele are nocturnally inclined, and that would be suitable for members of the Night Watch. Constable Shoe boards with her; I'm sure he can take you there. Now then, do you have money for the deposit?"

 

Ray and Fraser patted their pockets down. "Ah."

 

Carrot reached into his own pockets and pulled out some gold coins. "Never mind. This ought to cover it."

 

"Oh, no, no! I'm sure we can work something out! We couldn't possibly take your money!"

 

"Uh, Benny –”

 

"Oh, that's all right! I don't mind loaning money to folks I trust. Just pay it back when you can."

 

Fraser and Ray accepted the coins, one with much less reluctance than the other. "Well – all right. But I promise we'll pay you back when we can. Ray, we'd better find Constable Shoe."

 

They found him admiring his right hand and grinning from ear to ear. [NOTE: one of which needed some looking to.] "Mrs. Cake's place? Why, sure, I can take you there! She's got some rooms going spare, I think. Shall we go?"

 

As they were walking down the street, Diefenbaker trotting alongside, Reg Shoe filled them in on the boarding house. "Really nice place. Mrs. Cake caters to the undead and morphically challenged –”

 

"'Morphically challenged'?"

 

"I think he's referring to shapeshifters, Ray."

 

"Shapeshifters? You mean like werewolves? We're gonna be sharing a house with people who grow fur at the full Moon?" Ray shrugged. "What the Hell – why not? Can't be worse than my dormmates at the Police Academy."

 

As they walked along, Diefenbaker stayed by Constable Shoe's side. The wolf had met many men before that had smelled like Reg, but they hadn't been capable of walking. The Constable fascinated him.

 

Ray said, "What's Mrs. Cake like, Reg?"

 

"Very strait-laced. She's a deeply religious person."

 

"What religion, might I ask?"

 

"Any religion she can track down. Churches, mosques, sacrificial altars, standing stones – she's attended all of them in the city at one time or another. Oh, yes, she's a medium as well."

 

"Nice to hear but is her dress size important?"

 

"No, no, a psychic medium. She's quite good at it. A little too good, when you come down to it. That's one thing I should warn you about: when she's in full precognitive mode, she has this habit of answering questions before you ask them. It makes for difficult conversations."

 

"Understood. By the way, Igor seems to have done a good job with you hand. He works fast!"

 

Reg held up his right hand and smiled. "Doesn't it look great? I've never been able to do that well myself! Very good stitches – I think it'll last quite a while."

 

"Very good – you probably should have him look at your ear soon."

 

Reg frowned. "What – now it's an ear?" He looked in the glass of a nearby shopfront. "Well, well – that does look bad. Thank you for pointing it out – I hadn't noticed. I'm getting bad about that. I'd forget my own head if it weren't attached!"

 

Ray and Fraser chose not to say anything.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

The door to the boarding house opened just before Reg knocked. The person who opened it was a very short, squat middle-aged woman. This world seemed to have more than its share of round individuals. She smiled and said, "It's good to see you, Reg! And how do you do, Mr. Fraser – Mr. Vecchio? What can I do for you?"

 

Reg said, "Hello, Mrs. Cake! I have a couple of men here to see you. This is Benton Fraser and this is Ray Vecchio. They may be joining the Night Watch."

 

Mrs. Cake was in full precognition.

 

"Oh, well I have several flats ready to rent! A couple of singles on the ground floor near the front!"

 

Fraser smiled and said, "How do you do, Mrs. Cake? My friend and I are looking for lodgings and we were wondering if you could help us?"

 

Fraser paused and thought about this for a moment. Then he bravely went on.

 

"The singles go for fifteen dollars a month."

 

"May I ask how much the rent is?"

 

"Oh, I've got a larger flat with two bedrooms on the upper floor, right near the back. That ought to do for the two of you!"

 

"Actually, we were looking to share a flat."

 

"Twenty-five dollars a month. Plus a twenty-five dollar deposit and one month's rent in advance."

 

"And what is the rent for the larger flat?"

 

Fraser counted out the money in his pocket. Mrs. Cake said, "Oh, don't worry about that – I can make change easily enough!"

 

Fraser said, "Oh, dear. I don't think we can make exact change with what we've got." He was starting to get the hang of it.

 

"Meals are included in the rent. They are served three times a day, and three times a night. Cooking is not allowed in the rooms."

 

"And what about meals?"

 

"I ask that you have no wild parties or noisy visitors, either by day or by night. I have day sleepers."

 

"Are there any restrictions?"

 

"If Reginald is willing to vouch for you, I'm satisfied. He's one of my better tenants. You both look like the quiet type, in any case."

 

"Now I assure you, Mrs. Cake, that we won't make any excess noise. We're new here in town and hardly know anybody."

 

"There is a communal bath. Not all of my boarders use it, so it's doubtful if you'll have to wait."

 

"What about bathing facilities?"

 

Mrs. Cake looked at Ray. "You may go ahead, young man."

 

Ray paused for a brief second while cause and effect swirled around in his head. But he quickly decided to go with the flow, even if it were upstream, and said, "I've got a question!"

 

"Fully furnished. I also supply towels and bedding. It's all included in the rent."

 

"Are these rooms furnished?"

 

Mrs. Cake looked down at Diefenbaker and smiled. "Why none at all! If I turned away fur-bearing creatures, I'd lose half my boarders! Part of the time, at least. Your wolf is welcome!"

 

Fraser said, "One other thing, Diefenbaker here is my companion – is there any problem if I keep a wolf in our room?"

 

Fraser looked around. "What do you think, Ray? It sounds fine as far as I'm concerned."

 

Ray shrugged. "Why not? We need a place to stay, and this seems like a nice enough place. I'll be interested in seeing what our neighbors are like."

 

"That's settled then. Excellent!" Fraser turned back to Mrs. Cake, who already had a ten-dollar coin in her hand.

 

Fraser held out three coins. "Now I believe we owe you fifty dollars. Here is sixty dollars, and that makes ten dollars in return."

 

"You're quite welcome, young man. And I look forward to having you stay here."

 

"Well now, that's settled! Thank you kindly, Mrs. Cake. I'm sure we both look forward to staying here!"

 

"The staircase over there leads up to your flat. Just turn right at the top. And here is the key."

 

"Well, it's been a long day and we need to rest. How do we get to our flat?"

 

"Oh, yes, you'll need an extra key, won't you? Thank you for reminding me, young man – here you go."

 

Ray spoke up. "Say, Benny, don't you think we both need a key?"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Benton Fraser leaned out the window and looked down. It wasn't too far of a drop to the alley. Good; that might come in handy later.

 

He watched as the sun dipped below what for want of a better word he would call the horizon. Magic apparently worked on this world; would it affect the speed of light? Perhaps that explained the odd behavior of the sunlight. It actually seemed to leisurely flow away from the lower parts of the streets as the sun disappeared, almost like a gas. Even more oddly, the light didn't just leave darkness behind as it left; the darkness seemed to be a substance itself, rushing in to take over from the slow-moving light. It would be sinister if the darkness weren't so matter-of-fact about it, as if it did this sort of thing every night.

 

Fraser turned back into his room. Ray was sitting on Fraser's bed. He'd taken one of his boots off and was examining every square inch of it closely.

 

"Is there something wrong, Ray?"

 

Ray looked up. "Oh, no. Not at all, Benny." He resumed scrutinizing the boot. "It's just that I'm trying to find something. No luck yet, though."

 

"What are you trying to find?"

 

"A name. I'd like to find out who made these boots. If he's here in the city, I wanna track him down and shower thanks on him for his handiwork. These are very good boots, Benny!" He sighed and put his boot down. "Oh, well, forlorn hope, I guess."

 

"How is your room, Ray?"

 

Ray looked up and smiled. "Pretty good. A lot better than I expected. I always got the impression that old rooms like this are musty and dusty and full of nasty little bugs. Kinda like my Great-aunt's quilts. But it's not like that at all. My sheets are clean, and if there's any bedbugs in there, they're keeping to themselves." He patted Fraser's bed. "And these are really soft, too. I figure I'll get a good night's sleep."

 

Fraser nodded. "Unfortunately, this place obviously doesn't have many of the comforts that you're used to. Will that bother you?"

 

"Well, maybe I'd like a TV. Right now I'm missing – missing…" Ray frowned. "Actually I can't think of a thing on the Boob Tube that I'm missing that bad. Bruce Springsteen was right about all those channels and nothing on."

 

"I'll take your word for it. Although his figure of fifty-seven channels is a bit low by now."

 

Ray chuckled and said, "I'm sure they must do something for entertainment here – people don't let life get that boring."

 

"Well, there's always the Opera House. Though not everyone can afford to attend, I'm sure."

 

"Yeah, that's the way it is with operas; nothing much the average man can get into. Nice-looking building, though."

 

"True. There's always the theatre for people on fixed incomes, I suppose."

 

"Like that one we passed by earlier today? What was the name again?"

 

"The Dysk, I believe the sign said."

 

"Yeah, that's right, the Dysk. Wonder why they named it that?"

 

Fraser replied thoughtfully, "It makes sense, in a way. Ankh-Morpork seems to have some parallels with Elizabethan London. There was a theatre in London back then called the Globe – Shakespeare put his plays on there. If a theatre on Earth was named the Globe, a similar theatre on a disc-shaped world would be named the Dysk."

 

Ray snorted. "You mean on a world that everybody believes is disc-shaped!"

 

"Well, yes, if one wants to be pedantic about it. Why, Ray, don't you believe that this is a disc-shaped world?"

 

"Why should I? What evidence have we seen? Didn't people believe the Earth was flat, once? Wasn't that why Columbus sailed the ocean blue?"

 

"That's a myth about Columbus, Ray. Most people in Europe at the time knew the Earth was round. Indeed, so did many people in the New World. But you're right, at one time, a long time ago, some people believed the Earth was flat."

 

"Well, there you go! Maybe this place really is round, and folks just haven't cottoned on to it yet!"

 

Fraser considered this. "It's possible. But someone may have actually proved it's flat. And this is an unusual place is it not?"

 

"Tell me about it! One day here and we've met some pretty weird – individuals. Trolls, dwarfs, walking dead policemen – and there's probably some out there even weirder that we're gonna run into pretty soon!"

 

"So – why not accept a flat world as a working hypothesis? It's fantastic enough already."

 

"That's just it, Benny! I'm meeting creatures out of fairy tales. I want some sort of mundane thing to hang on to. And I've decided that it's gonna be a round world! I want to believe that this place is round until something comes along to convince me otherwise! I'll believe it then, but not before! I want the luxury of skepticism!"

 

Fraser nodded. "That's reasonable – not that it will make a difference to us either way."

 

"That's a good, practical way of looking at it." Ray stood up and yawned. "Well, it's been a long day and we've got things to do tomorrow. I say we hit the hay, Benny."

 

"Sounds like a good idea." Fraser looked thoughtfully at his friend. "Ray – we're going to be here at least sixty days. Do you think you can handle that?"

 

Ray replied, "Well, if we find a way home before then – what, you wanta do the whole sixty-day probation?"

 

"Ray, we made a promise to Captain Carrot. I prefer to keep my promises."

 

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that." Ray shrugged. "Ah, why not? I can wait that long."

 

"Really? You want to stay here that long?"

 

"Well… Now that I think about it, yes, I do. I want to see what's it like walking the beat in a fantasy world. Talking about those weird somethings we might meet? I think I really want to see what they're like. And another thing – Benny, do you think maybe we were brought here on purpose?"

 

Fraser replied, "I wonder. There are times when I think that we're taking part in a story of some sort. Not a fairy tale – something more complex than that. But a story, none the less."

 

Ray nodded. "Yeah. I know what you mean; I feel that way, too." Then he smiled. "That's another reason to stay – to see how the story comes out. I've gotta admit, Benny – I'm curious now."

 

Ray bent down and picked up his boots. "Well, you'll probably get up before I do, being the kind of person you are. Come in and wake me, will ya?"

 

"I'll do that, Ray. Good night."

 

"You, too, Benny. Oh – one more thing. What did you say the Dysk was?"

 

"A theatre, Ray."

 

"A theater, right?"

 

"Yes, Ray. Is there something wrong?"

 

"Oh, no. It's just – why is it that we both pronounce the word the exact same way, but when you say it, it comes out 'theatre', but when I say it, it comes out 'theater'?"

 

Fraser looked at him for a moment and finally said, "Well, now, that one is going to keep me up tonight!"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

The Captain of the Day Watch, one Nigel Washboard, gave Ray and Fraser a brief overview of the Ankh-Morpork criminal code. Practically speaking, they had no problems. If it's illegal in Chicago, chances are that it's illegal in Ankh-Morpork. The presence of the guilds only slightly complicated matters; you had to look for a receipt first.

 

The rest of the morning was taken up in the Armory, where an old dwarf named Frumpy took them through the paces with the standard issue weaponry for Watch constables. Frumpy was a nice enough old fellow, with snorting and coughing and the occasional spitting into a nearby cuspidor as reasonable substitutes for endearing character traits.

 

"Now this", Frumpy snorted, "is your regulation sword. Light and strong, easy for the hand to grip. Short enough that it doesn't interfere with the leg while walking, and long enough to give you good reach in those awkward situations, if you get my meaning. Are you two familiar with sword fighting?"

 

Fraser replied, in that optimistic Fraser way of his, "Well, no, but I'm sure I can learn!" Ray just said, "Uhh…"

 

Frumpy shrugged. "We all had to start somewhere. I'm sure you'll pick up the fundamentals as time goes on. If you can't, well… you'll find out soon enough. Here, let's practice a bit. I'll go you one at a time."

 

Fraser turned out to be a quick learner. Before long he was parrying Frumpy's blows easily. Ray, Chicago boy that he was, found it a lot harder. He was barely able to fend off Frumpy's blows, and he was soon sweating profusely. Frumpy finally said, "Don't fret, son. It does take practice. You'll learn, I'm sure."

 

Ray wiped his brow and replied, "I hope so! You sure these things are light? This one feels like it weighs a ton!"

 

"Ah, you're not used to using those muscles. Practice will build 'em up."

 

Fraser said, "Are these the only weapons we're to be issued, Mr. Frumpy?"

 

The dwarf chuckled. "'Mr. Frumpy'. Heh. It makes me sound like the host of a children's puppet show. No, you'll also have crossbows."

 

Ray said, "Crossbows? You mean those things that look like rifles but shoot arrows instead of bullets?"

 

Frumpy frowned at him and Ray realized he'd used some unfamiliar words. He hastily said, "At least that's what we call them where we come from. Anyway, you pull a trigger and it shoots an arrow?"

 

Frumpy nodded. "Well, some shoot arrows, some shoot bolts. But that's right, essentially. You're thinking of the two-handed jobs, though." He rummaged around on one of the weapons racks. "The Watch uses these. Much handier."

 

Ray was astonished at the devices Frumpy held out. They had a bow mounted laterally to a stockpiece, and there was a trigger. But they were a lot smaller than any crossbow he'd ever seen. In fact they were made to be held in one hand. And no matter what the size, he'd never seen a crossbow with a magazine attached to one side.

 

Frumpy said, "Now then, you just pull back on this lever to cock the bow – some force is necessary, but not much. And this on the side will automatically feed a new bolt after the bow is cocked. You can fire a round once every two seconds; the magazine holds ten rounds. Nice little weapon, I think."

 

Ray figured that this world didn't have gunpowder or the technology to use it [Note: He was wrong in this, but that's another story.], but this had to be the closest crossbow weaponry could come to producing a pistol.

 

Fraser took one of the miniature crossbows from Frumpy and examined it closely. "H'm. Interesting. Quite a sophticated weapon. Does one need a permit to carry and use one of these things in the city?"

 

Frumpy and Ray stared at him.

 

"Ah. Never mind." And Fraser never brought it up again.

 

The firing range told the tale. Fraser took to the new weapon immediately; his accuracy was impressive. Ray didn't do very well with his first two shots, but once he began to think of the crossbow as a handgun, albeit one that went thwip instead of BANG, he got along almost as well as Fraser.

 

Frumpy was all smiles. "Well, I must say you two are naturals with a crossbow! I'd recommend practicing your sword skills, but this makes up for it! I believe you're ready for duty with the Watch!"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

"Fatty" Tuesday had found someone. And she was now sitting across the desk from Lord Dorking.

 

Granted, she was Genuan, but Lord Dorking had expected that. Her skin was the color of fine mahogany, covered with a network of tiny wrinkles, and her hair was silvery, almost to the point of white. But her back was not bent with age; she sat up, straight and proud. And her eyes looked like she could look straight through your skin into your soul.

 

Her eyes. Dorking could well believe that she had the Power. She would do nicely.

 

Besides, she wasn't Klatchian.

 

Dorking returned her gaze and gave out with a rich, hearty laugh. He said, "And you say your name is…?"

 

"Mary," she replied. "I'm called Mary the Calf. I work as a fortune teller off of Gleam Street. I was told you have work for me, Your Lordship. Of what use can I be to you? Do you wish your fortune told?"

 

Dorking shook his head. "I've no wish to see my future." He chuckled intimately. "I am told by a friend, however that you have the power of what is called the Evil Eye?"

 

The fortune teller shrugged. "Evil is a difficult concept to define, is it not? So subjective – is a person ever willing to call their own activities evil? I prefer to call it the "Socially Unacceptable Behaviour Eye'."

 

"All right. Do you have the power of the Socially Unacceptable Behaviour Eye?" Rich, hearty laugh.

 

"Why, yes I do, Your Lordship, thank you for asking."

 

"And is it true that you can make a person do anything you want?" Intimate chuckle.

 

"Yes, I can." She smiled not at all in a nice way. "For a price, of course."

 

"Oh, yes, for a price." Rich, hearty laugh. "And that price is…?"

 

"Well, I'm always on the lookout for a husband." Her smile turned coy.

 

"Ah." "Fatty" Tuesday had told him a Genuan folk tale once, about a young man who had gone to a witch and had promised to marry her if she would cast a spell to make him rich. She had complied, but the young fool had reneged, telling her that she wasn't suitable for a man of his wealth. As Fatty had put it, "Another man done gone," and Dorking couldn't blame the witch one bit. One never backs out of promises, and one never makes promises with the intention of not keeping them.

 

"Ah. I'm not in the market for a wife right now. I prefer bachelorhood." Intimate chuckle.

 

"Oh." She was clearly disappointed. "In that case, then –”

 

"I was thinking more in terms of a generous amount of gold." Rich, hearty laughter.

 

Mary the Calf brightened up. "Gold will do. I presume you want me to bend a man to your will."

 

"You presume correctly." Intimate chuckle.

 

"And what do you want him to do for you? It may be difficult, depending on the task."

 

Rich, hearty laughter. "Well then, how difficult is it to get a man to commit murder?"

 

"Oh, is that all? Hardly requires any effort on my part. Robbery is difficult; spreading slander – I still can't get that right. But murder – easy as falling off of a log for me. I take it that you want someone eliminated, but you don't want to be implicated yourself?"

 

"Yes, that's why I thought of the Evil – Socially Unacceptable Behaviour Eye. I figured that was the way to go. Someone put me onto you, and I'm willing to pay handsomely." Intimate chuckle.

 

"Very well. I think we can make a deal. Tell me who it is you want to do it, and tell me who they should do it to. I will decide how much my services are worth."

 

Rich, hearty laughter. "Not yet. I want assurances that you can do what you say. A test, shall we say."

 

Mary the Calf nodded. "A demonstration? Sound business practice, I'll grant you. What would you want me to do?"

 

Dorking thought for a moment. Intimate chuckle. "Some one off of the street. A perfect stranger. You will send him off to kill someone else. A fair test, would you say?"

 

"A fair test. Please lead the way."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

It was early evening. Lord Dorking and Mary the Calf stepped out on the sidewalk just outside the front gate of the estate, accompanied by Dorking's manservant Cuttlefish, and the first person they saw was a middle-aged man walking down the street. He was slouching along in the manner of someone who wasn't among the gainfully employed.

 

Lord Dorking hailed him. "You there! Come over here, would you?"

 

The man complied. "Got a job for a man down on his luck, sir?"

 

Mary the Calf stepped forward. "Could you help an old lady, kind sir? I seem to have something in my eye."

 

It's amazing how well that works. The man bent over and looked deeply into her eye.

 

Mary's eyes went through some interesting gyrations. The pupils dilated and shrank to pinpoints, not necessarily both at the same time, and the eyeballs looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets at any minute. Dorking was glad he couldn't see them too well.

 

The Socially Unacceptable Behaviour Eye worked quickly. The man's face went blank as he stood up straight again. Mary said, "You are now in my power."

 

The man said, "I. Am. Now. In. Your. Power."

 

"I want you to go and kill someone."

 

"I. Will. Go. And. Kill. Someone." He turned to leave, but he stopped. "Who. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Kill."

 

Mary the Calf looked at Lord Dorking. He said to the man, "You're out of work, am I correct?"

 

"Yes. You. Are. Correct. I. Am. Out. Of. Work."

 

"You seem to be an able-bodied man. Why did you lose your job? Was it because of cheaper immigrant labor?"

 

"Yes. It. Was. Cheaper. Immigrant. Labor. The. Damn. Foreigners."

 

"I see. Well, here's your chance for revenge. We want you to go and kill one of the foreign devils. They're the ones responsible for your sad predicament, and you should make them pay."

 

"I. Will. Make. Them. Pay." And the man walked off into the evening.

 

Dorking said, "Cuttlefish, please follow him and see what he does. Report back to me."

 

"Yes, sir." Cuttlefish sneaked away. Cuttlefish was good at observing without being seen; it was one of the reasons Dorking employed him.

 

Lord Dorking said to Mary, "It looks promising, I must say." Intimate chuckle. "We'll see if some greasy raghead will turn up dead in the morning."

 

Lord Dorking had been thinking of Klatchians when he'd given the enthralled man instructions, though he hadn't spelled it out. He figured the man would understand and attack the first "raghead" he came across. Lord Dorking was wrong.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

"Well, I see they were able to find uniforms in your sizes!"

 

"Sure did, Captain! I didn't expect armor to be this comfortable!" Ray Vecchio leaned forward and went on, more quietly, "I gotta tell ya this, too – I think we look great in these!"

 

Carrot smiled. "I'm glad to hear that, Ray. Does the helmet fit all right? Some people complain about chafing."

 

Ray placed his helmet on his head. "Nope. Sits rather nice, I'd say."

 

Fraser said, "The padding helps considerably. And the helmet is light enough that the neck muscles won't tire out."

 

"Fine, fine. Now then, stand at attention so I can get a good look at you."

 

Ray wasn't used to standing at attention when he wasn't in trouble with Lieutenant Welsh, but he managed; Fraser of course could stand at attention in his sleep, so to speak. They both stared straight ahead as Captain Carrot slowly walked around them, studying them intently.

 

"Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. You could probably cinch your belt a little tighter, Ray. Outside of that you both look fine; you'll be a credit to the Watch."

 

Carrot stopped in front of them and said, "At ease. Now there's one more bit of business – you've got to take the Oath. Please raise your right hands." Ray and Fraser did so.

 

"Repeat after me…

 

"'I comma square bracket recruit's name square bracket comma'…"

 

Ray and Fraser looked at each other, shrugged slightly and in the best I'll-go-along-with-the-gag tradition of Bugs Bunny, echoed, "I comma square bracket recruit's name square bracket comma…"

 

"…'do solemnly swear by square bracket recruit's deity of choice square bracket'…"

 

– And so on. It was moving, in a way.

 

"Right! You each receive your King's Shilling – they're Ankh-Morpork dollars, actually; some of the men make them into watch fobs – and…" Carrot took out two small copper shields. "…your badges. Lance-Constable Fraser – Lance-Constable Vecchio – welcome to the Ankh-Morpork City Watch."

 

Ray and Fraser studied their badges. Fraser's number was 935; Ray's was 139. Fraser said, "These are very fine – I recognise the ankh symbols. And the bird is…?"

 

"A Morpork," replied Carrot.

 

"Ah. Is there some significance to the tower portrayed?"

 

"That is the Tower of Art. It's the oldest structure in Ankh-Morpork, far older than anything else. I can't really tell you what its presence on the badge means."

 

Ray was trying to work out the motto on the badge: FABRICATI DIEM, PVNC. "What's 'Fabricati Diem' whatever-the-last-word-is supposed to mean? – sir?"

 

"It's the Watch's motto – 'To Protect and Serve'."

 

Ray nodded. "Nice." He and Fraser pinned their badges on. They looked at each other and smiled. "Well, Benny, here we are – cops again. Feels good, doesn't it?"

 

"Indeed, Ray. What we do best."

 

The door to Carrot's office opened, and Corporal Angua stuck her head in. "Otto's here, Captain."

 

"Thank you, Corporal. That's the next order of business, gentlemen. We want to take your picture; iconographs are taken of all officers and posted on the wall." Carrot sighed. "I wish Otto would train an assistant. He's devoted to his iconography, but it takes so much out of him."

 

There was someone in the other room setting up what looked like an old-fashioned camera on a very solid tripod. Otto was a unique-looking individual, like Reg Shoe was a unique-looking individual, and for many of the same reasons. Skin color – or lack of it – for example. But Reg didn't have an exaggerated widow's peak. Nor the emphasis on black in his apparel.

 

"Ach, I am glad to meet you, Conztable Fraser – Conztable Vecchio. My name iss Otto Chriek." His handshake couldn't have been called warm. And when he smiled in greeting, two of his teeth stood out from the rest.

 

What threw Ray was how friendly the smile was, despite the prominent – and the only word the seemed to fit was "fangs". Ray returned the handshake easily enough, but he wasn't sure what to say. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Chriek – ah…"

 

"You zeem a bit nerfuss, Conztable?" Otto chuckled. "It iss okay; I am used to it. Yes, I am a vampire. But I assure you, you haff nozzing to fear from me. Behold, I haff control of my addiction." Otto held something in his hand.

 

It was a small length of ribbon, twisted into a shape familiar by association with AIDS awareness and the anti-censorship movements. But this ribbon was black. Ray came to an astonishing conclusion. He looked at Otto and said, "Vampires can take the Pledge?"

 

Otto nodded and grinned wide, obviously proud of himself. "Oh, yes! I attend my veekly meetings and receive zupport from my fellow recoverees. It has been two years, three months and vun week since I – since I… Vell, ve don't like to talk about zat. But you know vhat I mean."

 

You expect the fang-bearing smile of a vampire to be menacing. But this guy was so open and honest… Ray found himself warming to Otto.

 

Fraser said, "Well, controlling your – ah – inner demons is something to be proud of, Mr. Chriek. It's good that you have a support group to turn to."

 

"Yeah," said Ray. "It would've been nice if my Old Man had looked for help."

 

Otto said, "Zo, Conztable Vecchio, vas your father a vampire az vell?"

 

"Nah, his liquid of choice was alcohol-based. Helped teach me to duck, but there are better ways to do that."

 

Otto made sympathetic noises. "Zo zad. You haff my sympathies, my friendt."

 

Otto continued setting up the tripod. "Vell, zis iconogpraff vill not produce itzelf, zo let'z get to vork. I'm low on paints for der pictures – I'm alvays doink that; I'm abzent-minded zat way – zo I figured to take a zingle picture of the both of you. Zat vill be zuffizient, Captain, no?"

 

"Yes, Otto, that should do fine." Carrot was clearly concerned about something. "Look, Otto, someone else could always take the picture for you once you've set things up. I really think it would be better that way."

 

"Ach, I appreziate your conzern, Captain, I really do. But iconogprahy isn't chust my chob – it iss my passion. I could neffer veel comvortable letting zomevun else do zis for me." Otto removed a small bottle hanging around his neck by a black cord. "Captain, vill you hold zis for me? You know vhat to do vith it if zomezing happens." Carrot sighed, but he took the bottle.

 

The iconograph looked just like an early wooden-bodied camera, with a few interesting attachments. Like the small cage mounted on one side, for instance. Ray frowned at the creature inside. "What is that thing – some sort of lizard?"

 

Fraser replied, "I'd guess that that's a salamander, Ray."

 

"A salamander? What's that got to do with photog– iconography?"

 

"I think it must be the light source, Ray?"

 

"A light source? How can –”

 

"Now, chentlemen, if you would be zo kind as to zit here, in vront of the iconograff – chust zo. Now look into the lenss."

 

Ray looked into the aperture on the front and was surprised to see a tiny face looking back at him. It was a tiny little brown creature, and it was scowling at him and Fraser. Ray was about to ask why that thing in there was so mad at them, when it extended a tiny fist forward in a thumbs-up gesture, closed one eye and sighted along its thumb with the other. Oh. It hadn't been scowling; it had been concentrating. Otto hunched down behind the iconograph and placed his finger over a button.

 

"Pleaze to be zmiling." Ray and Fraser smiled, Otto pressed the button, and a small hammer came down on the salamander's head.

 

The creature flared with a blinding bright light that had Ray and Fraser seeing spots for several minutes. It did even more to Otto.

 

The vampire screamed and staggered back from the iconograph. He bumped up against a desk and stood there, panting and gasping, his legs on the verge of collapsing. Thin puffs of smoke issued from his collar and sleeves.

 

Fraser said it best. "Oh, dear." Ray could only agree.

 

Carrot came over and anxiously hovered over the stricken vampire. "Otto, are you going to be all right? Do you need this –?"

 

Otto slowly got control of himself and stood upright. "No – no, Captain, I zink I vill be fine." He managed to smile. "Indeed, der reaction zeems not zo bad az in der passt. Perhaps I am buildink an immunity. Either zat or –”

 

The vampire frowned "Or else der light vasn't zo stronk." Otto looked horrified. "Oh, no. Der picture must haff been underexposed! Oh, no, ve'll haff to do zis again!"

 

A hatch on top of the iconograph popped open and the creature inside stuck its head out. It was wearing a miniature beret, and a tiny brush was stuck behind one of its pointed ears. It said in a squeaky little voice, "No worries about that, Squire! Had plenty of light and the picture'll come out okay!"

 

Otto sighed with relief. "Ach, goot. Zat's always zomezing an iconographer vorriez about, you zee. It's goot to get it right der first time."

 

Fraser said, "Oh, good. Glad to hear that. Ah – about your reaction…"

 

"Ach. Vampires haff difficulties vith light, you zee. Ve find it – ah…"

 

Ray said, "Painful?"

 

"Ja. Painful. Zat iss a goot word. Captain, may I?" Otto took the bottle back and placed it around his neck. "Of course it could be worse. Zat's vhat zis iss for. It containss – ah – der b-vord."

 

Carrot was silently enunciating the word "blood".

 

Fraser said, "Ah. The b-word. I thought you'd sworn off of – the b-word."

 

Otto sighed. "Ja. I haff. But – der b-word – iss der only vay to revive a vampire vunce he's crumbled into dust."

 

Ray's eyebrows arched in that expressive way of his. "Crumbled – and that can happen if the light's too bright?" Otto nodded. "Do you mean to tell me that you can be destroyed by taking a picture?"

 

"If I'm not careful, ja. I haff to vatch out for overexposure. Vell, der picture ought to be done by now, zo…" Otto removed a plate from the back of the box and looked at the other side. He smiled and said, "Ah, a very good picture, if I do zay zo myzelf! Look." He held it out to Ray and Fraser.

 

It was a remarkably realistic painting, the equal of any photograph. Better, in fact; Ray's pictures always came back from the printers with a reddish tint. Ray and Fraser were dressed in their Watch uniforms, each smiling in his own way.

 

Carrot looked at the picture and smiled. "Excellent! You've done it again, Otto! Thank you!"

 

"You're Velcome, Captain. Any time. Vell, it iss gettink late, and I haff to get to der paper." As he packed up the tripod, he said to Ray and Fraser, "De vork for der vatch iss only a zecond chob for me. My main vork iss for a newspaper. It's called 'Der Truth'. Perhaps you haff heard of it? No? Vell, pick up an issue some time. Ve're starting a new feature – a patche of small illustrated stories, usink zequential drawinks. Der vun vith der lazy cat is qvite funny. It vas goot to be meeting you, Conztable Fraser – Conztable Vecchio! I hope ve meet again!"

 

After Otto left, Ray said, "Ya gotta admire a guy who puts that much into his work!"

 

Carrot replied, "I can't argue with that. Well, now that that's taken care of, are you two ready for your first patrol?"

 

Fraser said, "Yes sir!" and Ray nodded.

 

"Good. The Watch policy to team a rookie with a veteran for a certain period of time. Lance-Constable Vecchio, you'll be going out on patrol with Corporal Angua. Is that suitable?"

 

"Hey, if she can put up with me, I can put up with her."

 

Angua said, "It's fine with me. I will warn you, Ray, I can be a bitch sometimes."

 

"And Lance-Constable Fraser, you'll be teamed up with Constable Cheery Littlebottom – ah, here comes Constable Littlebottom now! Cheery, these are the new recruits."

 

Cheery Littlebottom proved to be a dwarf, with a curly beard and, as befitted the first name, a pleasant smile. "Pleased to meet you gentlemen. Welcome to the Watch!"

 

Fraser bent over to shake hands. "Benton Fraser. I'm quite pleased to meet you as well, Constable Littlebottom. I like the dress – it goes well with your eyes."

 

The dwarf was obviously pleased. "Thank you very much – may I call you Benton? I had this outfit specially made; it cost a lot but I think it's worth it. And call me Cheery."

 

Carrot said, "Cheery's been with the Watch for quite awhile. I'm sure she'll teach you the ropes soon enough."

 

Ray was normally tolerant of lifestyle choices, but it must be admitted that his thought processes rearranged themselves slightly when he caught the pronoun and he relaxed ever so slightly. He shook hands and said, "Ray Vecchio. Glad to meet ya. You and Benny ought to make a good team." He grinned wickedly. "The two of you can exchange makeup tips."

 

Cheery looked at Fraser. "Oh? What's that about?"

 

Fraser rolled his eyes. "Just Ray's little joke. I went undercover as a woman once during a criminal investigation, and he teases me about it from time to time."

 

"Oh, I see. It's just as well. I'm still learning about makeup anyway. Nobby has been a big help to me, though."

 

Ray's grin took on a peculiar quality, like it had no place else to go so it might as well stay put. "Excuse me – by 'Nobby', do you mean Corporal Nobbs?"

 

"Yes, that's Nobby."

 

"And he gives advice on makeup?"

 

"Oh, yes. We were talking nail polish a couple of nights ago. He's got a favorite brand, and we're going out tomorrow to look at the shades available."

 

"Ah. I see." Ray and Fraser exchanged a quick look, and they silently agreed that this was a side of Corporal Nobbs that they did not want to take any further.

 

Carrot said, "Well, that's settled then – Sergeant Colon, I'm turning them over to you."

 

Colon, the universal Desk Sergeant, picked up some papers and looked them over. "Right. City's been relatively quiet the last few nights. Cheery, I'm sending you and Lance-Constable Fraser over to the King's Way area. Angua, you and Vecchio will patrol along Treacle Mine Road. If there's any trouble, we'll send some runners to you, and you do the same if necessary. Go on with you – and let's be careful out there."

 

Cheery said, "I'm going to the Girl's Room and change into my uniform. I'll be a few minutes."

 

Fraser said, "Fine, I'll wait for you. I'll see you later, Ray."

 

As they were leaving, Angua turned around, "Oh, Fraser, I've been meaning to ask – where's your other companion?"

 

"Oh, you mean Diefenbaker? He left on his own to explore the city. He knows how to take care of himself. I'm sure he'll be there when we get back to our flat."

 

Ray said, "Yeah, the wolf's pretty good on his own. Later, Benny." Ray and Angua left the Watch-house and headed Rimward.

 

After walking along for a few minutes, Ray said, "So, all dwarfs have beards, huh? Even the fair sex?"

 

Angua chuckled. "It threw me the first time I found out, too. You're not that familiar with dwarfs, are you? They're very private about gender. I think Cheery's to be commended for openly pursuing her feminine side."

 

Ray nodded. "Yeah, I can imagine it took some nerve. One thing I gotta say, though, about that outfit she was wearing."

 

"What's that?"

 

"Well, I think Benny was being nice. Yeah, it goes with her eyes just fine. But those shoes! They just do not work at all!"

 

Angua nodded. "Well, she's new at this. Nobby told me the same thing – now there's someone who knows how to match a dress and footwear!"

 

"I'll take your word for it."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

There any many widely-held beliefs about the Assassins' Guild. One is that professional assassins wake up screaming in the middle of the night. This is not true. The Guild is very good with psychological testing of the students; those who might crack under the pressures of the job are screened out. The Guild's official policy is that it's the sign of a poor assassin if he screams in the middle of the night [NOTE: Or if his victim screams, for that matter.]

 

Another widely-held belief is that when assassins meet on the rooftops of Ankh-Morpork, it's to plan nefarious deeds. This is also untrue. Assassins do meet on the rooftops, but since the normal assassin is solitary about his business, it's not to make plans. In almost all cases, the reason for these rooftop meetings is to relax and enjoy the view. The streets of Ankh-Morpork can be very entertaining from a vantage point on high. And besides, some of the rooftops are just plain comfortable places to rest.

 

On this night, just off Scoone Avenue, two assassins were keeping each other company on the roof of someone's private residence. One was lying down and halfway dozing while the other was idly watching the street below.

 

The streetwatcher spoke up. "Hey, Chauncey, looks like we've got an attempted murder going on down below!"

 

Chauncey roused enough to ask, "Is he one of ours, Edgar?"

 

"Doesn't look like it – not the way he's dressed."

 

Chauncey sat up. "What, do you think he's a free-lancer?" The Assassins' Guild feels the same way about freelancers as the Thieves' Guild does; in a way, the Assassins' Guild is better-equipped to deal with them. However, whereas almost all theft involves money, not all murders do. So the Guild won't be interested in a murderer if he or she isn't getting paid for it.

 

Guild members are, however, interested in technique. As Chauncey got up and walked over to look, he asked, "How's he doing it?"

 

"Strangulation. Looks like he's using a cord," Edgar replied. "But that's not the interesting part. Take a look at the victim!"

 

Chauncey looked down and did a classic double take. "Cor! No, he's definitely not one of ours! Nobody in the Guild would be stupid enough to take on one of them!"

 

Further down the street, a silent figure clothed all in black detached itself from a doorway and sneaked away. Had the assassins been paying attention, they would have given the shadow fair-to-middling marks for its sneaking ability.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

"A troll? The man tried to strangle a troll?"

 

"Yes, my Lord," Cuttlefish replied. He was still dressed in his black cloak.

 

Lord Dorking thought about this for a moment and then said, "Odd. Why would he go after a troll? I told him to kill a 'foreign devil' – why a troll and not a Klatchian?" He looked over at Mary the Calf. "Could there have been something faulty with your control over him?"

 

"No, there wasn't!" The Genuan witch snapped back. "The man had the look of a manual laborer! Trolls make for cheap labor, and there are a lot of unemployed humans on the city streets because of it! For that man, trolls are the foreign devils; he believes that he lost his job because of them! He did just what you told him; it's just that he interpreted it differently than what you meant!"

 

Lord Dorking gave a deep-throated chuckle. "So, my instructions have to be more specific – well, there's no problem with that. I intend for my instructions to be very specific."

 

Mary the Calf smiled craftily. "So, was the demonstration satisfactory for your Lordship?"

 

Lord Dorking laughed richly [NOTE: and heartily]. "Indeed it was, Madame. Your Socially Unacceptable Behaviour Eye has proved itself. I do have one question; will this man remember anything? Could he perhaps be traced back to here?"

 

Cuttlefish cleared his throat. "If I may say, sir, I believe that the point would be moot in that man's case. I'm certain that he won't be in a position to recall anything. The troll was not taking the attempted strangulation lightly."

 

"Ah. Still, it's a valid question for when the time comes. Will the enthralled individual remember anything awkward?"

 

Mary the Calf replied, "Oh, I think I can take care of that. It would be easy enough to suggest suicide – once the main task was accomplished."

 

Dorking nodded. "A very good idea… It would make things neater and cause even more of a scandal. I like it." He opened a drawer in a nearby desk and removed a small leather pouch. "For now – you've earned the first half of your fee." Dorking tossed the pouch to her.

 

Mary the Calf caught the pouch easily and bounced it in her hand. It made the clinking sound that gold coins usually do in this sort of situation. With a little flourish and a nasty grin, she placed it somewhere on her person – one couldn't swear as to exactly where. She asked, "And when do I earn the other half?"

 

Lord Dorking replied, "After this – attempted murder, the Watch will be extra vigilant. We should give them time to calm down. Besides, as the saying goes, 'Revenge is a dish best served cold.'" Intimate chuckle. "I figure six weeks ought to be right."

 

"That's fine with me. You know how to get hold of me. Let me know when the time comes." The witch stood up. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I must go home. It's late and I have a full appointment book for tomorrow."

 

"Yes, I'm having renovation work done on the premises, and I have an appointment myself with the contractor in the morning. I'll get in touch with you."

 

As Mary the Calf made her way along Lower Broadway to her flat, she didn't notice the wolf cross the street behind her. Which is just as well, since he didn't pay much attention to her.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

It had been a long night for Diefenbaker. This was a very interesting place to explore. Lots of strange, new smells; lots of odd-looking people – at least he assumed that some of them were people, since they walked on two legs. He wandered far and wide around the city streets.

 

Now he was tired, and he wanted to get home – or at least back to the strange place where his human companions were staying. But he found that this would be a problem.

 

He was in a new place, with completely unfamiliar smells. Where was home?

 

The only thing Diefenbaker could do was to head more or less in the direction that he thought he'd come from, hoping to see a familiar face or smell a familiar scent. Occasionally he'd give his best pathetic look to a passing stranger. The most that got him was "Nice doggy".

 

He wandered along in this fashion for about an hour when he had a stroke of luck and encountered someone familiar in the form of a small, mostly grey dog with a smell that could be used to chase rats from an infested house. Diefenbaker had met this animal only two days before, in the company of an equally fragrant human.

 

Gaspode recognized the wolf right off and merrily barked, in Dog, "Well, if it isn't the newcomer! How's it going, Squire?"

 

Diefenbaker cocked his head to one side and didn't answer. His hearing problem made it difficult to understand the barks and growls of another animal.

 

Gaspode thought for a moment and said to himself, "Hm. Maybe he don't get the dilek– dyoll– the way I speak. Have to try something else." Gaspode looked around and saw no one else near. Then he switched to Human. "Okay, matey, can you understand me now?"

 

Diefenbaker was astonished to hear this dog talk like a human, but it wasn't any more helpful to him than if a human were talking to him. Human or Dog, it was all muffled to him. He whined a little.

 

"Well, at least the cat hasn't got your tongue, har har," said Gaspode. "Something wrong with your hearing, mate?"

 

Deifenbaker barked and swiped at an ear with a front paw.

 

"Oho! So it is the hearing! Too bad about that. Good thing we've got something else to fall back on."

 

Everyone above three years old has learned that dogs have a keen sense of smell; they are remarkable at picking up subtle nuances of scent. What few people realize is that dogs are also capable of creating subtle nuances of scent, with the primary method that they have for scent-making. Thus, dogs are able to hold conversations using smell alone.

 

So now Gaspode raised one of his hind legs, Diefenbaker raised one of his, and they began to converse.

 

Gaspode said (more or less), "What have you been doing?"

 

Diefenbaker replied, "I've been walking around this place all night." [NOTE: This form of communication has its limits, depending on when you last got a drink of water. You don't waste words.]

 

"A long time. Are you tired?"

 

"Yes. I'm going home."

 

"Do you live near here?"

 

Diefenbaker hesitated. "No, I don't."

 

"Don't you know?"

 

"I believe that it is not far away. I will find it."

 

"What direction are you going?"

 

Again Diefenbaker hesitated. He looked one way and then another. Then he looked the first way again.

 

Finally Gaspode lifted his leg and said, "You're lost, aren't you?"

 

Given the circumstances, saying "Diefenbaker exploded with anger" might be misinterpreted. Suffice to say he was angry when he replied, "I am not lost! I am a Canadian timber wolf! Timber wolves do not get lost!" [NOTE: Diefenbaker obviously did not actually say this, given the medium in which they were conversing. He formed the phrase "Canadian timber" from a combination of scents, primarily those of the Scots Pine and of moose droppings.]

 

"Right." It's amazing the amount of irony you can convey by odor. "So where's home, then?"

 

Finally Diefenbaker replied, "This is a strange place. I am unfamiliar with the odors here."

 

"Being lost is nothing to be ashamed of. It happens. It's a brave soul that admits that he needs help."

 

Diefenbaker sighed a very canine sigh and said, "I'm tired. I want to find my human."

 

Gaspode asked, "Maybe I can help. Where is your human staying?"

 

"In a house with other humans. Some of these humans smell funny. One smells like he shouldn't be walking." Diefenbaker recreated Reg Shoe's unique odor as best as he could; the result would have sent a veterinarian into hysterics.

 

Gaspode replied, "I know that human! I know where he lives! I can take you there! Is that okay with you?"

 

"Yes it is."

 

"Let's go!" Gaspode started off in a direction that the wolf hadn't even considered.

 

Diefenbaker had almost run out of words, so to speak, but he was able to say one more thing to Gaspode. He lifted his leg and said, "Thank you." Then he trotted off after the dog.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Three members of the Watch stopped outside of Mrs. Cake's boarding house.

 

"Well, Benny, I've gotta say it – this has been one interesting first day on the job – or first night, really."

 

"Quite true, Ray. An attempted murder does break up the ordinary routine."

 

"'Attempted murder' – is that how you'd classify it? Me, I say it was a successful suicide! That poor clown tried to strangle a troll! He'd have been better off trying to strangle a big rock! Come to think of it, he was trying to strangle a rock!" Ray looked up at the third Watchman. "No offense intended, Detritus."

 

The troll replied, "None taken."

 

Fraser said, "By the way, Sergeant Detritus, you talked to the – ah – victim. Was he able to shed any light on the attack?"

 

Detritus shook his head. "Nah, not a ting. I know da guy – fella name of Garnet. Nice guy, really. Gets along wit humans really well most of da time. He feels real bad about wut happened, but when somebody jumps you like dat, wut ya gonna do?"

 

Ray said, "Hey, it was self-defense, no doubt about it. I don't think he's gonna get charged. Shame he didn't leave much of the attacker to be identified."

 

"Yeah, well, dem's da breaks." Detritus looked up at the sky. The dawn was sending out tentative slivers of light before making itself available. [NOTE: This statement is to be taken literally.] "Well, I gotta get home. Got da wife waiting for me. I'll see you two tonight."

 

"Thank you kindly, Sergeant, for walking home with us. The company has been pleasant. Take care going home."

 

The troll started walking down the street. He hadn't gotten very far before he turned around and said, "Ya know – I tink you two got da makings of good Watchmen." And he continued on his way.

 

As they entered their apartment, Fraser opened the window. He leaned out and called, "Diefenbaker? Dief, are you out there?"

 

The wolf jumped through the window, tail wagging. As Fraser was about to close the window, he heard a voice outside say, "You know, your four-legged friend could use an orientation tour of the city. He wouldn't have found his way home if I hadn't helped!"

 

Puzzled, Fraser leaned out the window, but all he could see was the beggar's dog, who looked up at him, said "Bow wow!", turned and trotted away.

 

Fraser stared after the dog for a moment, then shook his head and closed the window. Turning around, he asked, "Well, Ray, how do you feel about working as a Watchman?"

 

Ray placed his helmet on a side table and sat down. "It's been a long time since I've walked a beat, Benny. It's not the same as being a detective. I'm not used to being without the Riv, ya know?" He looked over at the man who was quite literally his best friend in the world. "But, really, when I think about it – tonight hasn't been too bad. Not bad at all. I'd've thought that I'd wear blisters on my feet from walking around so much, but they're in fine shape. I'm tired, yeah, but I don't ache too bad. And it was interesting, walking around and getting face-to-face with the city. I like Angua. She doesn't look it, but she's one tough cop." Ray frowned. "I can tell that she's hiding something. There's some big secret in her life. But she makes a great partner."

 

"I could sense that she and Captain Carrot have something between them. They're in a relationship, I'd guess."

 

"Yeah, I could tell that, too. But there's something else. I can't tell what." Ray shrugged. "Ah, well, likely none of my business. All things considered, I think I'll like being a beat cop here." He looked over at Fraser. "Just as long as it's not permanent. I want to go home, sooner or later."

 

Fraser looked at Ray. "We'll find a way home. I know we will."

 

Ray nodded. "Alright, Benny. I'm holding you to that. If we don't get home – well, I'll be very angry at you."

 

"You've gotten angry at me many times before, Ray."

 

"Yeah, well, this time I'll be very angry." Ray yawned and stretched. "Well, it's time for me to hit the hay. I wanna ask you something first, though, Fraser." Ray removed the shiny new badge from his uniform and looked at it. "The Watch motto. What do you think it means?"

 

"The Captain said that it means 'To Protect and Serve'. Do you have reason to doubt that?"

 

"Well, I'm sure that that's the official translation. But it doesn't look right. I've forgotten plenty of Latin – or whatever they call it here – but I don't see how you can get 'To Protect and Serve' from "Fabricati Diem" – uh – 'Pee Vee En Cee'. What is that last word, initials?"

 

Fraser looked at his own badge. "I don't believe so, Ray. The Roman alphabet didn't have as many letters as the English alphabet has today. The letter V was used in place of the letter U."

 

"Oh. So this word is – punc?"

 

"I believe so, Ray."

 

"Okay, but what about the other two words? I know 'Carpe Diem' means 'Seize The Day', so 'Diem' must mean 'Day' here. What about 'Fabricati', though?"

 

"Well, many English words are derived from Latin. 'Fabricate', for instance."

 

"'Fabricate'? 'Fabricate the day'? Doesn't make sense."

 

"Maybe not 'fabricate'. A synonym, perhaps."

 

"Hmm. 'Fabricate' is a fancy way of saying 'make', isn't it? So… 'Make – day'… 'Make the day'? 'Make my day', maybe?"

 

"Could well be, Ray."

 

"So, the Watch motto is 'Make my Day, Pu’ –” Ray stopped and looked at the last word.

 

Then he broke into a grin. "I like it!"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

As the weeks passed by, Ray and Fraser settled into the routine that was the life of an Ankh-Morporkian City Watchman. There were a steady stream of crimes to investigate. Fraser got involved with helping Sergeant Detritus close down a narcotics ring supplying "slab" to young trolls. ("You know, Ray, anyone selling controlled substances to powerful creatures like trolls can't be very bright. Drug dealing almost always leads to a backlash, and in this case, the backlash was… flattening.") Ray helped in an investigation of a corpse found floating in the river Ankh. ("We're rookies here, Benny, and I don't mind if they make me draw the outline around the body, but drawing it on the surface of the water – that's weird!") Nothing much could be done to solve the mystery of the attempted murder of the troll.

 

Fraser quickly came to know the street people. He learned that the beggar they'd met on the first day was called Foul Ole Ron, and his patchwork quilt of a dog was named Gaspode. Soon Fraser was greeting almost everyone he met by their first name.

 

And they found things to do off-duty. Fraser helped Captain Carrot organize activities for the street kids; now the children had two people to make fun of but grudgingly respect behind their backs. He also found the time to tutor one of the Gate Watchmen, who wanted very much to learn how to read.

 

Both Ray and Fraser attended plays at the Dysk, and Ray found, much to his surprise, that he enjoyed the theater. He admitted to Fraser that he felt the urge to shout advice at the characters when they overlooked the obvious; such temptation was understandable, since most of the audience actually did it. But, one way or another, Ray found the experience to be very entertaining, and he found himself pricing a season subscription in the Opera.

 

Ray and Fraser went out once with some other Watchmen to a local tavern, where Ray sampled a locally-produced ale and pronounced it something that would take getting used to. The evening's festivities concluded with Ray observing the world while draped across Fraser's shoulder; the next day Ray's helmet felt like it had shrunk overnight.

 

One activity Ray came across impacted their lives – and income – greatly: a card game named Cripple Mr. Onion, which Ray described to Fraser as being "not Poker, but it will do until the real thing comes along". Ray soon picked up the fine points at a local game, and he discovered that he was good at it. Ray was personally responsible for them repaying Carrot's loan in quick time.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

It was the mid afternoon, a little over five weeks after they'd joined the Watch. Ray walked into the apartment and called out, "Hey, Benny, dinner! I got takeaway from that Agatean place down the street and what the Hell is THAT doing here?"

 

"That" was circular in shape and about three feet in diameter. The more or less flat surface was colored blue in places, various shades of brown in other places and white in the center. And it rested on the backs of four elephants, which in turn stood on the back of a large turtle.

 

Fraser was sitting next to this odd sculpture. He looked up at Ray and replied, "This is supposedly a representation of the world we're on right now." He frowned. "One obviously can't call it a globe, because it's flat. I guess you'd call it…" He brightened. "A disk!"

 

Ray shook his head. "Yeah, if this place is flat! I'm still skeptical about that!"

 

"Granted. Very well, this is a representation of what most people here think the world looks like."

 

"That's better. This thing looks expensive. Where'd you get it?"

 

"There's a mapmaker over on the Street of Cunning Artificers. A fellow by the name of Briggs. He had this in his window and I asked if I could borrow it. I want to learn some geography. Or Discography, if you will."

 

"And he let you have this?" Ray thought about who he was talking to. "He let you have this."

 

Ray leaned over for a closer look. "Alright. Let's pretend that this is the real thing. Point things out to me."

 

"Very well. This raised portion in the center corresponds to the Ramtop Mountains. This over here is the Counterweight Continent and the Agatean Empire. Over here is Exexexex. The largest continent doesn't seem to have a single name."

 

"Where's Ankh-Morpork?"

 

"Right here. It's marked by the carbuncle."

 

"Sounds about right." Ray looked around the edge. "Doesn't look like there's anything but water around the Rim. Except – hey, is that land there?"

 

"Yes, it is, Ray. Krull. And it is right on the Rim."

 

"Krull? I think I met someone from there – Do people actually live right on the edge?!"

 

"I believe so, Ray."

 

"Whoa! I'll bet they know how to build real good fences! – Ah, if there is such a place and if there is an edge."

 

Ray looked down at the turtle. "That's the Great A'Tuin, I guess. He's the one that's supposed to be carrying the whole shebang through space. And the four elephants – I never can keep track of their names!"

 

"Berilia, Tubul, Great T'Phon and Jerakeen."

 

"Whatever. It's four elephants. By the way, have you got any ideas on who can help us get home?"

 

"I've asked around, and I think the wizards at the Unseen University are our best bet. Witches seem to be few and far between in Ankh-Morpork. Lord Vetinari hasn't actually banned them, but they seem to be discouraged from staying in some way."

 

"Probably uses irony at them. I hear he's good at that."

 

"Could well be. At any rate, it seems the University is the only place in the city where magic is allowed."

 

Ray brought the takeaway packages over and decided to place them on the Agatean Empire. It seemed appropriate. "A wizard's college? Makes sense. So – in a few weeks, we'll be off probation, and we can go talk with the old men in the pointy hats. Sounds like a plan to me."

 

Fraser sat back and looked at his friend. "I talked with Captain Carrot today, Ray."

 

Ray had opened one of the takeaway packages and was stirring the noodles with a pair of chopsticks. "Oh? What about?"

 

Fraser looked at the map as he answered. "He thinks we've done an outstanding job as Watchmen. He decided to shorten our probation period to six weeks."

 

Ray stopped with a noodle halfway to his mouth. "Six weeks?"

 

"Six weeks, Ray."

 

Ray stared. "We've been on the job over five weeks."

 

"Quite true, Ray. It's two days less than six."

 

Ray's gaze settled on his helmet and breastplate. They weren't by Armani, but he took care of his uniform. The pieces had been polished until they gleamed. Fraser's uniform shone just as brightly. "It's short notice for the Captain, isn't it, Benny?"

 

"Captain Carrot is aware of how urgently we want to get back home. If we were to suddenly disappear, I don't think he'd be surprised."

 

"I see. Right. Well." Ray looked at Fraser. "This isn't gonna be easy."

 

"No, it isn't. We've made friends. I've found the jurisdiction to be interesting. I even think we've made some small difference. It will be hard to leave this."

 

"Yeah. But we'll be going home, Benny. I'd almost forgotten what that's like. But not quite. You think these wizards can help us? I'm almost afraid to hope."

 

"Well, a shaman and an Amazon priestess were enough to help last time. I'm sure the wizards are well-versed in the magic arts. And in any case, they're our best hope right now."

 

"Yeah." Ray sat down and looked more closely at the Disc. The word "Uberwald" caught his eye. Corporal Angua was from Uberwald. He'd never had a partner before that came from a place with a name like Uberwald.

 

Fraser said, "I'll take this back to Mr. Briggs tomorrow."

 

Ray nodded. "I'm sure you will, Benny. You can be irritating at times, but you're a real good one to loan things to." Ray stood up. "C'mon, let's get ready to go to work."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Mary the Calf was cold-reading a customer in her booth and contemplating just how much she'd gain before the lady's suspicions would be aroused – quite a bit, based on past experience – when the messenger arrived.

 

"From Lady Henway, Ma'am. She requests your appearance at her abode in two days time for the séance she'd mentioned."

 

Mary thanked him, gave him a pittance for a tip and read the note. There was no Lady Henway. Lord Dorking, in a fit of secrecy, had chosen the name so he could contact her.

 

There wasn't going to be any séance, either.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Being a member of the Night Watch also meant being a day sleeper. This suited Ray just fine as he was a crack-of-Noon kind of guy if he could help it. So when Fraser went to wake Ray up two days later, he got a surprise.

 

"Ah. Hello, Ray. I see you're already up."

 

Ray was sitting by his window. "Yeah, been up for a long time. I had a tough time sleeping last night. Can't imagine why." He stood up. "You ready to go?"

 

"Yes. It's a long walk to the University, so the sooner we start, the better."

 

Ray looked around his room. There were a few personal items lying around, but not many. It really didn't have a feel of Ray Vecchio to it. "I don't know how I should feel, Benny. If things work out like they might – we won't be back here."

 

"Well, I wouldn't suggest getting my hopes too high, Ray. The forces that brought us here were very powerful. The wizards may be experts on magic, but they may find it difficult to help."

 

"Don't go talking like that, Fraser! We gotta be optimistic. These guys will know what they're doing, and they will help us – we gotta believe that!"

 

"We have to be realistic, too, Ray." The two started down the stairs, Diefenbaker trotting alongside. In the front room they met their landlady.

 

"And a good afternoon to you gentlemen! I'm doing fine, thank you for asking!"

 

"Ah, good afternoon, Mrs. Cake! And how are you this fine day?"

 

"Oh, yes, I found it just fine! Thank you much!"

 

"Oh, by the way, did you find our rent? We left it on the desk in your study."

 

As they walked up Elm Street, Ray said, "Something bothers me about this, Benny. What about payback?"

 

"Payback? I'm not sure I follow."

 

"What kind of payment will these guys want? I mean, yeah, maybe they can help us, but what do they get out of it?"

 

Fraser shrugged. "Well, I would expect there would be the satisfaction of helping someone in distress."

 

"Buggrit!"

 

"Ah, hello, Mr. – ah – Foul Ole Ron. How are you today?"

 

"Millennium hand and shrimp!"

 

"Oh, glad to hear it!"

 

"Fraser, are you serious? Do you actually think these guys will help us just out of sheer altruism?"

 

"Well, I would have guessed so. Why not?"

 

"Why not? I'll tell you why not!

 

"Look, Benny, when we first came here, this place struck me as weird. No surprise there. It's kinda like Lord of the Rings, with trolls and dwarves –”

 

"Dwarfs."

 

 “– dwarfs and vampires and all the usual fantasy creatures, doing magical stuff and all that. But this isn't a story, and I don't see these – folks around us as characters in a fantasy! I see them for what they are – they're human! They're all human beings – even the ones made out of rock or the ones three feet tall! They're human beings and they act and think like human beings! And human beings are always asking 'What's in it for me?'"

 

Fraser looked at Ray oddly.

 

"Okay, a large percentage of human beings, then… But my point is, not everybody does stuff simply to be generous. They want something in return – especially in this city! The way I figure it, under the beards and pointy hats and magic, these wizards are gonna turn out to be just as human as everyone else. And they'll want something in return!"

 

Fraser frowned. "H'm. I never thought of that, Ray. Perhaps we can work something out."

 

Ray sighed. "Yeah, well, maybe they are good Samaritans – or whatever the equivalent is here. We'll just have to see."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Carrot was getting dressed – there was a new exhibit of Attack Muffins at the Dwarfbread Museum and he wanted to beat the crowd – when someone knocked on his door.

 

"Just a minute!" He finished dressing and opened the door. There was an elderly woman standing there, Genuan from her appearance.

 

"How do you do? Are you Captain Carrot?"

 

"Yes, I am. How may I help you?"

 

"I've got something in my eye. Could you take a look?"

 

Carrot leaned forward and squinted into her eye. The old lady had dark, deep eyes. Very deep eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the deeper they seemed. He felt like he was going to fall into them at any moment…

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

"Hey, Benny? Remember that case we worked at the Architectural Exhibit in the Museum back in Chicago?"

 

"You mean the one involving the discovery of a disinterred corpse wrapped in Saran Wrap?"

 

"Yeah, that one – the one the papers dubbed the 'Leftovers Again?' Murder. Remember you tried to explain the difference between Baroque and Rococo architecture to me?"

 

"Yes, I do, Ray, as much as it shames me. I recall that I was unsuccessful."

 

"Yeah, well, I'm not too good on that stuff. Anyway, what kind of architectural style do you think this is?"

 

Fraser and Ray were standing before the main gates of the Unseen University. Fraser studied the ornate façade and replied, "I don't think this represents any single architectural style, Ray, but if I were to give it a name, I think it would be Terribly Overdone."

 

"Ah, that's good. I thought it was just me."

 

It's not uncommon for old structures to represent the marriage of two or perhaps three different architectural styles. The façade of the Unseen University was a graphic illustration of just how liberal marriage laws can be. The result looked something like a wedding cake design gone mad. Ray said, "I wonder who all those statues are?"

 

"I would guess that they represent past presidents of the University."

 

"You're probably right, Benny. The people in charge never go to this much trouble for the janitors."

 

"Oh, dear. Judging from the hand gestures on this one, he didn't think very highly of Ankh-Morpork."

 

"I hope I have that much control over any monuments they erect to me; I'd go for hand gestures like that. Well – shall we go in?"

 

"I'm normally reluctant to enter an institution like this uninvited, but I see no knocker or gatekeeper, so we have no choice." Fraser tried the latch; it was unlocked. He slowly pulled open the massive doors, and the two of them went into the University campus, with Diefenbaker following.

 

There was a gatekeeper's cubicle on the other side of the door, and the gatekeeper was inside, diligently snoring away. Fraser was careful not to slam the door behind them.

 

Ray took a look around the courtyard and said, "Oh, dear." Fraser looked as well and couldn't think of anything to add.

 

To continue with the metaphor, if the outer wall of the University was a group marriage, the interior was a full-blown orgy. [NOTE: Given the supposed link between the effective practice of magic and celibacy, it's best not to use this particular metaphor around wizards. It upsets them.] Everywhere a person looked, there were gazebos, buttresses, arches, towers, bridges, and other structural decorations. A wizard's architectural philosophy is very similar to his culinary philosophy – more is better. And the Unseen University had been around for around 2,000 years – plenty of time for a long line of wizards to have their way with the building. If there were an overall architectural style to the University, it was well hidden beneath the add-ons.

 

Ray stared at a small bridge which connected two cupolas; it changed its mind twice about what it wanted to look like over the length of its span. He couldn't think of anything to say in the way of commentary, so he decided to stick with practicalities. "Right – how do we find a wizard in all this mess?"

 

Fraser shrugged. "I suppose we start looking. We're bound to find someone who can help –”

 

"Hey! Look up there! Is that a wizard?"

 

Fraser looked up and replied, "Ah, I'd say so, Ray. He certainly has the beard and pointy hat." He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Excuse me, sir! I was wondering if perhaps you can help us!"

 

The wizard was apparently too far away to hear. He waved down at them and went on his way.

 

Fraser said, "Oh, well, at least we know that there are wizards here. Ah! Here comes someone else! Perhaps he can help! Sir? Excuse me, sir?"

 

The man that was walking toward them didn't have a beard, but he wore the robe and the pointy hat. He was chubby and wore a pair of perpetually out-of-style round-rimmed glasses which made him look like a slightly befuddled Physics professor. He must have been a wizard. As he came up to Ray and Fraser he said, "Ah, Captain, to what we do owe this –”, before he stopped and looked at Fraser more closely. He frowned and said, "You aren't Captain Carrot, are you? My apologies for the mistake."

 

"That's quite alright. My name is Benton Fraser and this is my friend Ray Vecchio, and it so happens that we are with the Watch."

 

"How do you do. My name is Ponder Stibbons. I'm the Reader of Invisible Writings here at the University. Is there something that we can do for you, or have you become separated from your tour group? Nothing to be embarrassed about – it happens all the time."

 

"Actually, we were hoping you folks here could help us. We need to find a way to get home."

 

"Well, there's an omnibus stop over on the Maul –”

 

“No, no. We're not from Ankh-Morpork originally. You see –”

 

"Ah. There is a regular stagecoach for the coast. I'm not sure of the schedule –”

 

"No, wait one moment." Fraser sighed. "Look, I don't know if you'll believe this, but we're stranded here on this world. We can't just use a ship or a coach to get home."

 

Ponder stared at him. "Are you saying you're from another world?"

 

"Well – from another dimension, actually."

 

"Another dimension?" Ponder pulled a small glass cube from his pocket and made a few passes at Fraser, Ray and Diefenbaker with it. He looked at the cube, shook his head and made a few more passes with it. He looked at it a second time and his eyes went wide. "I've never seen readings like this before…"

 

Ponder looked at the two men and the wolf, and his face lit up like a little boy who's just noticed some really big packages under the Christmas tree. "It must be true! You really must be from another dimension!" The young wizard began to pace back and forth, waving his arms around. "This is fantastic! It will change everything we believe about the Universe!" He stopped. "We'll have to do some testing, of course. See what differences there are – take some measurements…"

 

"Hold it!" Ray stepped forward. "Stop right there, Mr. Wizard. I can see where this is going, and Benny and I will not lie still and let you eggheads dissect us like frogs in grade school!"

 

Ponder looked a bit perturbed. "Oh, no, nothing like that, I assure you! Our surgeons are quite good at what they do. Mistakes are very rare…"

 

"Oh, really! Surgeons, you say? Let's get something straight here, mister! My friend and I are not guinea pigs or specimens that you can put on display at some medical college! We're human beings, with human feelings and a human aversion to being used! Now, we came here to see if you magic types would be able to help us get home, and if you can't help us, fine, but we will not be poked and prodded and opened up to see what makes us tick!"

 

Diefenbaker barked, and Ray said, "And that goes for the wolf, too!"

 

"Ray, calm down. I'm sure that these fine folks wouldn't really dissect us." Though Fraser noticed that Ponder was clearly disappointed. He chose to ignore this and went on. "As you said earlier, the wizards most likely will want something in return. No doubt they'll want to ask us some questions; we would agree to some interviews, won't we? And perhaps a physical examination is acceptable. A noninvasive one, of course."

 

Ponder thought about this and replied, "That sounds reasonable. But as for a noninvasive examination –” Ray scowled at him and he hastily concluded, “– I'm sure that that will be satisfactory. At any rate, I should take you to meet the Archchancellor. He'll be the one making the final decisions."

 

Ray asked, "He isn't going to want to cut us up, is he?"

 

"Are you some sort of fish or game?"

 

"Well… no."

 

"Then he won't want to cut you up. The rest of the Staff are dining in the Great Hall. Please follow me."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Captain Carrot of the Night Watch was well-known around the Patrician's Palace, so he went unchallenged for the most part. Those few who did try to stop him were simply thrown out of the way. What everyone, thrown or not, agreed on was that he seemed unusually silent that day. He didn't say a word to anyone, which was not like him at all. Carrot had a word of greeting for everyone.

 

It so happened that Lord Vetinari had a visitor that day in the Oblong Office – Commander Sir Samuel Vimes. Visiting the Patrician always got Vimes' blood pressure up, but this time they were merely going over the Watch's proposed budget for next year, and so far it had been routine. It even looked like Vimes wouldn't be putting his fist through the walls as he left.

 

The door opened and someone entered the room. Lord Vetinari looked up and smiled. "Ah, Captain Carrot! This is unexpected. Is there something important?"

 

The only reply Carrot gave was "I. Must." And he slowly walked forward.

 

Vimes rose and said, "Carrot? What wrong, man? Why are you here?"

 

Carrot raised his arms and moved toward Vetinari, his hands ready to grasp. "I. Must. Kill."

 

"Carrot!" Vimes rushed forward, but Carrot threw him against the wall. Vimes sank to the floor.

 

Lord Vetinari didn't move as Carrot came up to him and placed his hands around the Patrician's throat.

 

Vimes struggled to stay conscious, but his brain was sluggish and he didn't seem to have control over his arms and legs. All he could do was watch.

 

Lord Vetinari said nothing as he looked into Carrot's eyes. It was like looking into a deep well; the water was there, but you could barely see it. And the well was looking back.

 

Carrot's hands were tight around Vetinari's throat. All he had to do was squeeze. But the fingers didn't exert any pressure.

 

Carrot and Vetinari looked into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Still, the hands didn't squeeze.

 

Abruptly Carrot's eyes rolled back into his head, and he released his grip on the Patrician's throat. And the Watchman collapsed to the floor.

 

Vimes managed to stagger to his feet. "Are you all right, Your Lordship?"

 

Vetinari looked down at Carrot and said softly, "I'm fine, Commander."

 

Vimes knelt down beside Carrot. The effort made him dizzy, but he managed to keep from falling over. "He's still alive, but he's unconscious." Vimes pulled at a lock of Carrot's hair and looked at his fingers. "Not dyed, from the looks of it."

 

"Dyed? Did you expect his hair to be dyed?"

 

The door opened, and Vimes looked up to see one of the Palace Guard staring at Carrot's body. Vimes called out to him, "You there! Get a message to the Watch House! Have them send a team here – there's been an – an accident! And have them track down Corporal Angua and send her along! Hop to it, man!"

 

Vimes said to the Patrician, "Angua has a good nose for identities. She'll be able to tell if this really is Carrot or not?"

 

Lord Vetinari arched one eyebrow so distinctly that you were surprised that he didn't have green skin and pointed ears. "If this really is – Commander, is there something I don't know?"

 

Vimes opened his mouth to answer, and then shut it. Then he opened it again. "I'm just covering all possibilities, Your Lordship. Besides, I didn't think there was anything you didn't know."

 

The Patrician was not amused.

 

END OF PART II

Go to Part III

 

DISCLAIMER

 

This story is for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by Alliance Communications Corp., CBS and CTV or any other copyright holders of "due South", nor is it intended to infringe on copyrights held by Terry and Lyn Pratchett of "Discworld".