Due Rimward

Part III

by Paul E. Jamison

 

Whoever had named it the Great Hall had been short on imagination, but superb at accuracy. It was dark, dreary and, more than anything else, very large.

 

The façade at the University gate had apparently not exhausted the supply of Archchancellors. There were portraits and statues all around the walls of scowling men with full beards and pointy hats, holding those important-looking scrolls or devices that men of learning usually hold in portraits. [NOTE: In some cases, these are actually mechanical toys. Many of the Archchancellors have believed in the simple pleasures of life.] At one end of the room was a fireplace large enough to hold an intimate dinner for two, with room for an obtrusive waiter; at the other end was a large clock. One wall was almost completely taken up with a giant organ which would have made the director of the Mormon Tabernacle turn green with envy.

 

From the ceiling hung a massive, black chandelier, on which hundreds of candles attempted to dispel as much of the darkness as they could.

 

In all, Great Hall was a formidable room. One could almost call it intimidating. The problem was that an intimidating room has to have intimidating occupants for the proper effect. The group of people eating at the High Table were formidable enough, but certainly not intimidating.

 

About a dozen wizards were indulging in the Noontime meal at the moment, and there was a racket of clattering cutlery, chewing, grunts, belches and cries of "I saw that first!" The gloominess of the Great Hall would be enough to swallow such sounds, if they issued from less dedicated eaters. It didn't quite succeed here.

 

Diefenbaker was overjoyed. Humans – with lots of food! They'd surely want to share some with a hungry wolf! So he trotted up and sat beside the table, giving the nearest wizard the adorable begging look that people back home found so irresistible. However, wizards are particularly immune to adorable begging looks. The wizard looked suspiciously at Diefenbaker and huddled protectively over his plate.

 

The man at the head of the Table, one Mustrum Ridcully, was huge in stature and in personality; he had to be the Archchancellor. When Ponder came in with the two men and the wolf, he looked over and boomed, "Ah, Stibbons! Were you able to – Oh, hello, Captain Carrot! Good to see you! Sit down and have a bite – we'd be happy to share!" This invitation was delivered in the confident tones of a man with enough seniority that he wouldn't be the one doing the sharing. The other wizards – the ones who would be doing the sharing – glowered at the visitors.

 

Fraser replied, "Ah – no, thank you. We're not hungry. And I feel that I must point out –”

 

"Terrible job with the hair."

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

"Dyeing your hair. Didn't work out too well, it looks like. Not a natural hair color at all. It happens sometimes. Dean could tell you that – couldn't you, Dean?" A wizard sitting nearby, large and with silver-gray hair trying to pass itself off as blond, scowled and said nothing.

 

Ponder interrupted. "No, Archchancellor, this isn't Carrot. This is someone who looks like him."

 

"Eh? Looks like him? A relative, is he?"

 

"No – certainly not a relative." Ponder continued, with a dramatic flourish, "Archchancellor, these men are from another world!"

 

Ridcully failed to look impressed. "Another world. Right."

 

"Right! In fact, they're from another dimension!"

 

The Archchancellor sighed. "Stibbons, is this more of that more-than-one-universe rubbish you've been going on about – multi-wossname – what was that word you used?"

 

"Multiverse. And it's not rubbish!"

 

"Not rubbish? Of course it's rubbish, man! We've gone over this before! There's barely enough room for this Universe! Where would you put a second Universe?"

 

"Well, that's where the concept of a Fourth Dimension comes in. If you travel along the Fourth Dimension –”

 

"Time," said another wizard.

 

"What was that, Senior Wrangler?"

 

"Time. I thought Stibbons said once that Time was the Fourth Dimension."

 

Ponder stammered, "Well – you could look at Time as the Fourth Dimension – somewhat – we can measure things with Time as well as with the Three Dimensions –” Ponder, like so many brilliant people, couldn't communicate his ideas worth diddly.

 

Ridcully said, "Oh, yes, three dimensions. Explain those to us again?"

 

"Well – you can describe the relationship – the location, that is – of one point in the Universe with respect to any other point in the Universe using only three dimensions – height, width and depth. Those are the three dimensions."

 

"And if I measure across the diagonal? Is that another dimension?"

 

"Well – no. It's a combination of two other dimensions."

 

"But if it's a combination of two dimensions, doesn't that mean two measurements? I've only made one."

 

"Well – um – you could break that one measurement down into two, so –”

 

"All right, never mind. If you just need three measurements, why would there be other dimensions? Sounds like you don't need 'em."

 

"Oh, dear. That's where multiple universes come in. You can't measure things in another Universe unless you use more dimensions –”

 

Fraser would have stood there politely all Afternoon, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. Ray wasn't so considerate. "Listen, it doesn't matter about dimensions or whether we're from another universe or another planet or the far side of the Moon! My friend and I came from a long, long way away and we came here because we thought you magic honchos could help us get home!"

 

Ridcully frowned at him. The Archchancellor didn't think much of being interrupted. He said, "Well, young man, if you want to go home so bad, why did you come here in the first place?"

 

Ray rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "Look, we didn't have any choice in the matter! We got a whiff of Green Gas and here we were!"

 

It's not enough to say that the room went silent. Silence actively took over and pushed all sound out for a very long few seconds. The wizards stopped eating and sat there.

 

Finally, Archchancellor cleared his throat, in that way people do to keep their voices from quavering, and said, "Green Gas, you say?"

 

Fraser replied, "Yes, sir. Green Gas."

 

"Tricky stuff, Green Gas."

 

"We know, sir. We've dealt with it enough times."

 

This time the Silence itself felt uncomfortable. Ridcully stared at Fraser. "You've had experience with Green Gas more than once?"

 

"Yes, sir. This makes the second time. In order to set things right the first time, we had to rely on magic users. We're hoping you, as wizards with the Unseen University, would know how to help us this time. Can we count on you gentlemen?"

 

Ridcully picked up his napkin from the table, unfolded it, folded it up again, and set it back down on the table. Since wizards usually consider the napkin to be a new-fangled idea and rarely touch one, this was a good indicator of the Archchancellor's state of agitation. He said, "Well, now… Not all of us know that much about Green Gas. Not as such. We'd have to bone up on the subject. Yes, that's right – someone will have to search the literature. In fact – I know just the fellow you need to see! Stibbons, why not take these chaps over to talk with the Librarian? He might be able to help them."

 

Ponder Stibbons had gone into a sort of reverie at the mention of Green Gas, during which time his face turned various colors. Now he snapped back to the world around him. "What? – Oh, yes! The Librarian! Just the, er, man for the job! Right, I'll do just that! This way, please – the Library's right next door!" He headed for the door, in hasty leisure.

 

"Well, we're terribly sorry to take up your time. Thank you kindly for your help. Dief, come on!" Diefenbaker gave a dirty look to the uncooperative wizard and loped off after the others.

 

It was about a minute before the wizards resumed eating – a long time for them. Just before he tucked in again, Archchancellor Ridcully said to the company at large, "Pity about the hair dye. Red suits him so much better."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

When they were outside, Ray looked up and said, "There he is again! Say, is that guy up there a wizard?"

 

Ponder Stibbons looked up and said, "Oh, yes, that's the Bursar. You'll have to excuse him. The poor man has been under some pressure recently, and his mind has been… a bit difficult. Nice man, really. He's taking some dried frog pills for his mental state, and the latest mixture seems to be helping quite a bit. There are some unfortunate side effects, though."

 

"Such as…?"

 

"Well… they make him think he can fly."

 

Ray looked up again. "But he is flying!"

 

"Oh, yes. He is a wizard, you see. Wizards are quite good about acting out their delusions."

 

The Library was not an impressive building, as far as University library buildings go. From its size, it seemed like the University didn't have a very large book collection. Ponder left them on their own at the front entrance with a few words about pressing business elsewhere, goodbye and good luck.

 

As they walked in the Library, Ray took one look around and said, "What say we wait here for this Librarian or whoever, Benny? I think we'd get lost if we wandered around on our own." This is known as using understatement to fight off panic.

 

Anyone who can think knows that books have power. On the Discworld, it is much easier for this power to be made manifest and to affect Reality around it. If you gather a large number of books together, especially books on magic, they will affect Reality quite profoundly. Space and time in the Unseen University Library were distorted in remarkable ways. A nearby corridor performed an odd corkscrew maneuver as it stretched into the distance. Another corridor appeared to grow larger rather than shrink with distance. Still another corridor seemed to turn itself inside-out at first glance. Ray didn't take a second glance.

 

Most libraries Ray had been in were quiet; not this one. There were the rustling of many pages, the thud of heavy objects and the rattling of chains. Ray looked around to find the source of these sounds and noticed something about the books on the shelves.

 

"They seem to be paranoid about people stealing books here, Benny. Most of them are chained to the shelves, looks like."

 

"I don't think that's to prevent theft, Ray."

 

A large, thin volume began to rock from side to side, knocking against the books on either side. One of these reacted rather badly.

 

"I think the chains are for restraint."

 

Magic is power. Write a spell down and it's far more than just words on a page. Write a number of spells down and bind them into a book, and lock it up quick.

 

Every shelf had a copper rail. Whenever the buildup of magic energy in a book became too high, it would ground itself and dissipate in the rail before it; there were irregular flashes of purple energy as this happened. Many of the books were straining against their chains.

 

"Benny – are these books alive?"

 

"Well, I'm not certain that you could call it 'life', Ray. There are some criteria for life that may not be met here. And life is difficult to define in any case –”

 

On a nearby shelf, a collection of spells for getting rid of house pests went berserk. It began thrashing around wildly at the end of its chain, banging into the shelf above and into the books on either side. Soon the other books were cowering away.

 

“– but in a way, yes, they're alive."

 

Something swooped through the air overhead, and the two men ducked. Ray said, "What was that? An owl, or –” He stopped as it swooped overhead one more time before flying up to the ceiling. He could see it wasn't an owl.

 

Over the years, some books had escaped their chains; there was now a complex biblioecology up there near the ceiling. Many of the books stayed where they were and flapped their pages, but some had enough energy to move around, and even to interact. A large grimoire decorated with cabalistic symbols was trying to hunt a scroll of memory spells. The grimoire was more powerful but the scroll was quicker, so the outcome of the hunt was uncertain.

 

Fraser observed the books hovering near the ceiling and said, "It looks like they should have the Bursar come in and do some retrieval up there."

 

Ray noticed that a short length of chain was dangling from one of the books up there; he wondered how much strength had been required to break it. "I dunno, Benny. I wouldn't go anywhere near those things up there!" Ray looked down. "Okay, enough of the sightseeing. Is anyone here?"

 

"Ah, here comes someone now! A wizard, by his looks!"

 

"Yeah… He's got a pointy hat and a robe and the beard. Not very impressive-looking, though." This was true. The robe and pointy hat were battered and frayed, and the beard was a prime example of why some people shouldn't try and grow beards. The man himself was tall and scrawny, and he walked like a rabbit ready to bolt at the slightest sound.

 

He came up and more or less smiled at Ray and Fraser. "How do you do? Welcome to the Library. My name is Rincewind and I'll be your assistant Librarian this afternoon."

 

"Ah, how do you do, Mr. Rincewind! My name is Benton Fraser and this is my friend, Ray Vecchio. We're here because we need some help that may possibly be of magical nature, and the wizards of the University faculty had said that the Librarian could possibly help us. If you could take us to meet him – or perhaps you could help us?"

 

Rincewind sighed. "Well, if it's magical help you want, I'm probably not your man. I'll take you to the Librarian instead – please walk this way." He shuffled off, and Ray and Fraser, ignoring the straight line for a bad joke, followed, with Diefenbaker trotting along.

 

As they walked along between the shelves, the corridor around them stayed normal. Ahead it looked questionable, and they didn't look behind. Ray did look down one side corridor to catch a glimpse of three men – one dressed as a wizard – and a wolf walking along. He thought it was a mirror at first, but mirrors don't show you the back of your head. Nor do you look like you're upside-down.

 

Diefenbaker usually liked to explore, but not this time. He stuck close to the humans.

 

Fraser spoke up. "Tell me, Mr. Rincewind, what kind of a person is this Librarian? What's his name, by the way?"

 

Rincewind replied, "I don't know his name – I don't think anyone does. Ever since the accident, he's been very protective of his privacy."

 

"Accident?"

 

"Ah, here we are." Rincewind stopped at a very tall cabinet. He leaned back and called up, "Sir? Some people to see you, sir!"

 

Ray looked up. Up there, clinging to the cabinet and rummaging around in the top shelf, was someone dressed in an odd orange jumpsuit. He looked down, waved and began clambering down the shelves. He was very agile, using his feet just as well as his hands. Ray thought he looked familiar.

 

When the Librarian reached the floor and stood in front of Ray and Fraser, it was apparent why he was so good at climbing. It wasn't an orange jumpsuit.

 

"Oook!"

 

Ray's jaw dropped. "Holy cow! The University Librarian is a…?"

 

Rincewind groaned, closed his eyes and turned his head. The Librarian tensed, looking at Ray warily.

 

"… an orang-utan?"

 

Rincewind opened his eyes and turned to gape at Ray. The Librarian said, "Ooook!!" and reached forward to grab Ray.

 

"Hey, what's going on? Put me down! What –” Ray fell silent.

 

Fraser leaned over and politely said, "Ah, excuse me, sir, but could you put my friend down, please? I don't think he can breathe, and I'm sure you're injuring his ribs."

 

The Librarian put Ray down and stood there, smiling at him. When Ray could breathe again, he said, "What did I do?"

 

Rincewind, clearly relieved, replied, "It's what you didn't do, sir! You didn't use the – ah – the 'm-word'."

 

"M-word? M-word… You mean 'monkey'?" He looked at the Librarian. "Of course I didn't! Why would I call an orang-utan a monkey?"

 

Fraser said, "Not everyone is aware that there's a difference, Ray."

 

"Yeah, well, I didn't get much out of high-school science, but I learned that much! Some strange reason, I took to Anthropology. I liked learning about the apes!"

 

Rincewind said, "The Librarian is a bit… touchy… about someone using the 'm-word' to describe him. He tends to get physical about it."

 

"Guess I don't blame him, really. I'd want people to get it right if it was me!"

 

The Librarian beamed at Ray and gave him a playful slap on the back. Ray managed to keep from falling down.

 

Fraser said, "We really ought to introduce ourselves. My name is Benton Fraser, and you've already met Ray Vecchio. We're Lance-Constables for the Night Watch."

 

"Ooook!!" This clearly excited the Librarian. From somewhere on his person, he produced a small copper shield.

 

"Aha! A Watchman yourself! Excellent! I'm sure you're a valuable member of the team!"

 

Ray snapped his fingers. "I knew I'd seen you before! You go to the Dysk, don't you? You were there a couple of nights ago for Grab the Girl, Julius! I remember you were throwing bananas at the players!"

 

"Oook!"

 

"Yeah, you're right, it was a downer. Me, I like tragedy as well as the next guy, but plays don't have enough happy endings in 'em nowadays. I'll say one thing, you made the whole thing a lot more entertaining!"

 

"Oook!"

 

Fraser said, "You'll excuse me for asking – I can understand if it's personal – but I am curious. Ah… Why are you an orang-utan?"

 

The Librarian said, "Ooook!" with an expansive gesture.

 

Rincewind elaborated. "Some time back there was a magical accident. The Librarian was left as an orang-utan, and he prefers staying that way."

 

"Ooook!"

 

Fraser looked at the bookshelves and said, "I can understand that. It is far easier for you to reach the top shelves, I imagine."

 

"Ooooook?"

 

Ray replied, "Oh, yeah. There is no way I'd have any overdue books if you were the one ragging me about 'em!"

 

Fraser said, "Granted, I'm not certain my grandmother would have appreciated the advantages of being turned into an orang-utan."

 

"Oook?"

 

"Yes, my grandparents were librarians. They practically raised me, so I feel quite comfortable in a library."

 

The Librarian grinned again and put a hairy arm around Fraser's shoulders and hugged him close. Ray said, "Looks like you've made a friend for life, Benny!"

 

"Yes – Ra-ay – that – would – se-em – to – be – the – ca-ase."

 

"Oook?"

 

"What can you do for us? Well, we need to get back home –”

 

"Oook!"

 

"We know about the omnibus stop on the Maul – The problem is that we're from another world – another dimension, you might say – and we came here unwittingly when we inhaled some Green Gas."

 

Ray had never seen an orang-utan go pale, but this one did. Rincewind gave a whimper and backed away a little.

 

"Now, I can assure you that we didn't bring any Green Gas with us! We're fine on that score. But we came here to the University to see if we could find some help from the wizards in getting home." Fraser waved at the books around them. "Now, in all this accumulated knowledge, surely there ought to be something about reversing the effects of Green Gas!"

 

Fraser looked at the Librarian. "Could you help us get home?"

 

It's remarkable how thoughtful an orang-utan can look. Of course, that's no guarantee of intelligence – humans are ample proof of that – but in the case of the Librarian, appearances were true. He was thinking about something long and hard.

 

Finally he reached a decision. "Ooook!"

 

Ray said, "You can help us? All right!"

 

The Librarian held up a long finger and said gravely, "Oook!"

 

"Okay, okay, but we gotta have hope, right? What's your plan?"

 

The Librarian looked at Rincewind and said, "Oook."

 

Rincewind replied, "A secret, eh? One I'm not going to be privy to, is that it? What, do you think it's too dangerous for me to get involved in?"

 

The Librarian nodded. "Oook!"

 

"Right – none of my business then." Rincewind briskly turned around and began walking away. "Nice meeting you blokes – have fun!" He waved back over his shoulder and walked away faster.

 

The Librarian leaned close to Ray and said softly, "Oook…"

 

Ray nodded. "Yeah, that's what I figured. Nice guy, though."

 

"Oook!"

 

"You heard the ape, Benny. Follow him!" The Librarian began loping down the corridor, with the two men and the wolf trailing behind.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

It was obviously the Librarian's desk. It looked old and worn and felt even more ancient. Termites had gnawed holes in the wood – and with the presence of a low-level magical field affecting their evolution, the termites had gnawed a miniature apartment complex in one corner. [NOTE: This was not as amazing an accomplishment as it sounds. It was not a choice location – the view was mediocre at best – so most of the flats were empty.] And there were books stacked over most of the surfaces and in the cubby hole beneath.

 

The Librarian stopped at his desk long enough to pull a small lantern and a ball of string from one of the drawers. As he tied one end of the string to the desk, Fraser said, "I take it that is so we won't get lost."

 

"Oook."

 

Ray said, "You're kiddin'! Is it gonna be that hard to find a book to help us? Somebody must have written something about Green Gas."

 

"Ooook!"

 

"Direct approach? Whaddaya mean 'direct approach'?"

 

The Librarian looked around, then leaned forward and said softly, "Oook?"

 

"L-space?! What in blue blazes is L-space??"

 

"Ooook! Eeek!! Oook – oook – ook!" The Librarian said this with much gesturing.

 

Ray frowned at Fraser. "He lost me with all those equations and stuff. Did you understand what he said?"

 

"I believe so, though it would be hard to summarize it. I'll try, though. Knowledge is power, right?"

 

"Well, yeah."

 

"And power is energy, right?"

 

"Uhh… yeah, I guess. I wasn't too good on physics."

 

"And energy and matter are different aspects of the same thing. And matter has mass."

 

"Uh… You're starting to lose me, Benny."

 

"Oooook!"

 

"Ah. Apparently it's not just magical books that distort reality. But books themselves, by their very nature –” Fraser's voice grew thoughtful “– through the knowledge they contain, affect space-time." He looked at the Librarian. "I've felt that. In all the libraries I've been in, in all the libraries that my grandparents worked in – even the smallest ones – I could feel the knowledge."

 

"Oook…"

 

Fraser said to Ray, "And, according to our friend here, the mass of knowledge contained in the books distorts Space into what he terms L-space. Without getting too technical, L-space connects all libraries everywhere together."

 

Ray snorted. "Yeah, right! All of them? Come on!"

 

But Fraser and the Librarian didn't laugh, and Ray gradually lost his smile. "You're serious? All the libraries?"

 

"Apparently so, Ray. All of them."

 

This was a profound concept, and a person does not react to profound concepts in profound ways. After a few seconds, Ray asked, "If that were true, wouldn't we know about it?"

 

"Oook…"

 

"A secret known to only a handful of librarians? Okay, I can buy that. All the librarians I've known have been real good about keeping secrets. Well, why keep it a secret?"

 

"I would guess, Ray, that L-space could be used for what is in effect time travel."

 

"Oooook!"

 

"The Grandfather Paradox, yes. If you start using time travel indiscriminately, it would cause havoc with Cause and Effect."

 

Ray nodded. "I see. Well, I don't really understand it all, but that's me. I'm not even sure how television works. So I'll take your word for it." He looked at the Librarian. "So, this L-space is so dangerous that only a few people know about it. And you're willing to use it to help us – two guys that you've just met."

 

The Librarian merely nodded.

 

Ray realized that this orang-utan was far more human than quite a few "real" humans he knew. He said softly, "Thank you, friend."

 

"Oook…"

 

Ray said, "So, the aisles here can get pretty convoluted, right?"

 

"Oook!"

 

"You sure that string is strong enough?"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

In L-space, the portals between worlds are many and varied. In some cases, the path is treacherous and twisted. In others, the transition is deceptively easy, and you could get lost if you're not careful. Many a proprietor of a used bookstore is a soul that can never find his way home.

 

In a few cases, however, the portal between worlds is nothing more complicated than a single door. Such was the case with the Chicago Public Library.

 

The way had not been easy. Once they'd skirted around a pitched battle between a Metaphor and a Simile. They'd watched as a Premise had pursued an elusive Conclusion. Every environment develops its own ecosystem.

 

And now, they stood before a small door set into an ordinary-looking wall. Ray said, "This is it?"

 

"Oook!"

 

"And behind that door is the Chicago Public Library?"

 

"Ooook!"

 

Fraser said thoughtfully, "Ray, have you ever seen doors like this in libraries? Small, nondescript doors, with no doorknobs and sometimes no keyholes, far off in some corner where they're hardly noticed?"

 

Ray shrugged. "Sure! Never thought anything about 'em, though. I just thought that they led to…" He frowned. "Actually, now that I think of it, I was never sure where they led, but I never worried about it. They were just there, you know? Are you saying those doors lead to…"

 

"Well… Some of them, maybe."

 

Ray shrugged. "Oh, well. Not that it does you any good – they don't have knobs."

 

"Oook…" The Librarian bent down and solemnly opened the door.

 

And on the other side…

 

"Looks dark."

 

"I'd say it's after hours, Ray."

 

The two men bent down and peered out.

 

"Benny… I can't tell. Is it really…"

 

"I recognize the area, Ray. It's close to Classic Fiction. That is the Chicago Public Library."

 

"Wow…"

 

Ray wanted to jump through the door then and there. But at the same time, he wasn't sure.

 

"We've made some friends here, Benny."

 

"Yes, we have, Ray."

 

"It would be nice to say goodbye."

 

"Quite true."

 

"Oook!"

 

"I know – goodbyes are hard, aren't they? But…" Ray looked at the dark library. "I want to go home."

 

The Librarian leaned forward and stepped through the door. As simple as that, he was in Chicago. He leaned back through the door and held out his hand. "Oook…"

 

Ray looked at Fraser, who nodded. Ray then leaned forward and took the Librarian's hand. It was a strong hand, of course, but surprisingly gentle.

 

Librarian pulled Ray forward…

 

…and Ray's knuckles hit the open door and would not go through.

 

"Hey!" Ray put his other hand against the open door and pushed. His hand would not go through. It was like pushing against the strongest, most transparent plastic wrap in the Universe.

 

Ray put his shoulder against the invisible barrier and pushed as hard as he could. Through clenched teeth, he snarled, "Don't do this to us! Not now!"

 

The Librarian let go of Ray's hand and got a better grip on the man's arm. He pulled, and Fraser pushed from behind. But Ray could not go through the door.

 

For several seconds, the three put a lot of effort into it. They grunted and groaned, and Ray muttered a few choice words. He was so close. He could see quite a bit of the other library –

 

"Hey, somebody's coming!"

 

Just then, the beam of a flashlight played over the Librarian. He let go of Ray and turned around.

 

One of the Chicago Library's security guards had just turned the corner from Classic Fiction when he had heard a noise. Now he stood there, looking at the orang-utan that stood in the beam of his flashlight.

 

The orang-utan smiled at him and waved.

 

The guard sighed and said, quite matter-of-factly, "That's it, I guess. Tomorrow I call up AA." Then he turned around and strolled away.

 

They tried getting Fraser through the door, but it was no go for him either. The Librarian pulled and Ray pushed. Truth to tell, Ray pushed Fraser much harder than Fraser had pushed him; Ray was angry. But neither one of them could get through the door.

 

Finally they quit. Ray sat down on the floor of the Unseen University Library. "Damn! And we're so close! It's not fair!!"

 

"Oook…"

 

Ray scowled at the Librarian. "That's easy for you to say!"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Lord Dorking stood on the veranda and looked out over the construction site.

 

He'd been out there to ask how the renovation was coming along. He'd found the crew on their afternoon break, and the foreman had said, "One week, guv. All done then, just as we said."

 

Although there was no actual sign of construction taking place, Lord Dorking had accepted this reassurance. Because, like so much else, the construction business had its own Ankh-Moporkian quirks.

 

You never actually saw the workers working. When a project was started, people came out and erected scaffolding – they used scaffolding to enlarge goldfish ponds – draped the scaffolding with tarpaulins, and the workers disappeared from view. When you looked for them, they were always on Morning Break, Lunch Break or Afternoon Break, depending on the time of day. And after work, if you doubted enough to look over the site yourself, you never saw any visual signs of progress. But when the completion date came around, the tools were packed away, the tarpaulins were folded up, the scaffolding was taken down, and the workers left. And the job was found to be complete. No matter how little had been done so far, if the foreman said one week, Lord Dorking knew that the renovation would be done in one week.

 

Cuttlefish made his presence known with a discreet cough and said, "Madame The Calf is here, my Lord."

 

Dorking did not turn around. "Send her in."

 

When the Genuan witch had entered, Lord Dorking, still studying the construction site, said, "The Patrician is still alive."

 

"I know that," she snapped.

 

"The Captain failed to do your bidding. Why is that?"

 

If he expected her to be defensive, he was wrong. She replied, "I've been thinking about that just now. The Watchman may seem simple, but he has a strong will. He doesn't really want to kill Lord Vetinari, so his mind fights the command. Ultimately his mind shut down. It's difficult to control a strong will."

 

"Ah." Lord Dorking wouldn't have thought Carrot to have a powerful mind. Perhaps the rumors of his royal heritage had some truth to them. "What can be done, then?"

 

"I could try again with someone with a weaker mind –”

 

"No, no. I'm keen on the Captain doing this. It gives the act more meaning." This was a distinct setback. A botched attack would put Vetinari on his guard, and the next attempt would be that much harder. And yet, Dorking wasn't as disappointed as he would have thought; he wasn't sure why.

 

He turned to Mary the Calf. "We will try again with the Captain. Is there a way to make certain that he goes through with it next time?"

 

Mary the Calf replied, thoughtfully, "Yes, there is. I would have to be close to him while he makes the attempt. If I can see him, I can reinforce the command. I would suspect that the reinforcement would have to be continuous, but in the end, he will obey."

 

"H'm." Lord Dorking turned back to look at the construction. It had finally come to him what was wrong. If his original plan had succeeded, it would have been incomplete. It wasn't enough that the Patrician must die; it wasn't enough that killer was one of Commander Vimes' precious Watch. No, the murder had to be public – he realized that now. It's one thing for it to take place in the privacy of an office; it was another if it happened where people could see it.

 

In a week, when the renovation was done, he'd have to invite Ankh-Morpork's upper crust – his definition of "the public" – for a formal dedication. And who better to dedicate it than…?

 

"In one week, you'll have your chance to complete the job." Intimate chuckle.

 

"Very well then – I suppose that I'll be on my way." Mary the Calf turned for the door.

 

"One moment. I would like you to stop off at the estate next door." Lord Dorking could just see Lord Sink's mansion beyond the fence. "There's something I'd like you to tell the Lord of the manor."

 

"Oh? And what shall I say to him?"

 

"Well, that you've got something in your eye, for starters." Rich, hearty laughter.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Ray had stormed his way out of the Library, normally not a wise thing to do. But he was radiating anger like an incandescent bulb, and things figured out that it was a good idea to leave him alone. He strode right between the Simile and Metaphor, and they let him. Now he was stomping his way through the Maul and everyone was getting out of his way; trolls were getting out of his way.

 

Right behind him came Fraser, followed by Diefenbaker.. "Ray – please – slow down. I know you're a bit upset –”

 

Ray stopped and whirled around. "Upset? Upset?? Why shouldn't I be upset? I think I've got a right to be upset! I had a chance to get back home! It was gonna be the easiest thing in the world – two worlds! It was too easy, though! I should've known – the Universe isn't gonna let me off the hook that easy! Oh, no! Six weeks isn't enough – the Powers That Be figure I ought to stay here for awhile longer! Upset? Me? Whatever for?"

 

"Now, Ray, calm down. The Librarian promised to find something to help us. He's going to do some research –”

 

"Yeah, research! And how long will that take? He could be running around the Library for a long time! And if he has to do an Interlibrary loan? He's got every other library there ever was to rummage through! He could be looking forever!"

 

"Well, pardon me for pointing this out, Ray, but didn't you say something about wanting to stay to see how the story comes out?"

 

"Fine! Throw my words back at me! Remind me of something I said in the flush of the novelty of adventure! Well, I just saw Chicago! I was just this close to my home!" He held his thumb and forefinger close together; actually, he'd been even closer than that, but he wasn't in a mood to be reminded. "Adventure is all well and good, Fraser, but I want to go home!"

 

"All right, all right, Ray, all we can do is keep trying. I know there are witches up in Lancre. Perhaps they can help us. Once we get some vacation time –”

 

"Vacation time?! Benny, right now I don't care about vacation time! I don't care about keeping my job! What I care about is finding a way home! If I have to walk off my job and lose all my perks, I'll do it! Do you understand what I'm saying, Fraser? There are some things more important than job security!"

 

The argument stopped at this point when a bony finger tapped Ray on the shoulder and a voice said, EXCUSE ME.

 

Fraser looked at whoever it was behind Ray, and his eyes went wide. He couldn't even manage an "Oh, dear." All he could say was "Oh."

 

Ray looked at his shoulder. The finger was very bony.

 

Ray turned around and looked into the face of Death.

 

And the name that went through his mind was "Christopher Walken".

 

More precisely, what Ray thought was, Now if Death looked like Christopher Walken – dressed in a snazzy black suit, with his hair slicked back, all smooth and suave like he is in the movies – then I could take Death seriously.

 

As it was, Death was a skeleton. A skeleton of polished bone, seven feet tall, dressed in a black robe and carrying a scythe. This was the cliché Death of cartoons and bad teen comedies and – and, well, of just about everything. There was no way you could take this Death seriously.

 

But then you looked again, and noticed some things. Like the fact that the black of the robe was like no other black you've ever seen. And the blade of the scythe didn't really have a visible edge. This looked like a scythe that could literally cut through a conversation.

 

And the eyes – in the sockets of the skull could be seen two pinpoints of blue light. Lights that you didn't dare look at closely.

 

No doubt, this was Death.

 

And Ray still had a hard time taking it seriously. Clichés are powerful things.

 

For the first time, Ray noticed that they were alone. The rest of the world had literally faded into the background. It was only him, Fraser and Death. Oh, yes, and the wolf.

 

I DON'T KNOW YOUR NAMES.

 

You didn't actually hear the voice so much as you felt it inside your mind. It's as if Death communicated with you directly rather than using a roundabout way involving larynxes and eardrums.

 

Fraser's manners were deeply ingrained. He smiled and held out his hand. "Ah, how do you do? My name is Benton Fraser and this is –”

 

I WAS NOT ASKING FOR AN INTRODUCTION.

 

"Ah. I'm terribly sorry."

 

I WAS TELLING YOU – I DON'T KNOW YOUR NAMES.

 

Ray ventured, "Uh – is that important?"

 

YES, IT IS. EVERY LIVING THING ON THIS WORLD HAS A NAME. EVERYTHING. EVEN THOSE CREATURES THAT DON'T KNOW THEIR NAMES. EVEN THOSE THAT CAN'T GRASP THE CONCEPT OF "NAME". OR THE CONCEPT OF "CONCEPT", FOR THAT MATTER. THEY ALL HAVE NAMES. AND I KNOW ALL OF THEM.

 

"You do?" It was a stupid thing to say, but sometimes that's the only thing you can say.

 

YES, I DO. I AM DEATH. THE MOST SUCCESSFUL OF ALL ASSASSINS. THE END OF ALL PAIN. THE REAPER MAN. IN THE END, I WILL MEET THEM ALL.

 

SQUEAK!!

 

Death looked at the apparition that had just appeared on his shoulder. It was the skeleton of a rat, dressed in a robe of its own and carrying a miniature scythe.

 

Death sighed. RIGHT, MY ERROR. IN THE END, I WILL MEET THEM ALL – EXCEPT FOR RATS, MICE, GERBILS, HAMSTERS, AND OTHER RODENTS.

 

SQUEAK!

 

YES, AND THE OCCASIONAL RODENT-LIKE HUMAN IF I'M BUSY.

 

SQUEAK?

 

WELL, I'M STILL UNDECIDED ABOUT THAT. WEASELS AREN'T RODENTS. STILL, IT SEEMS APPROPRIATE FOR YOU TO HANDLE FERRETS AND THE LIKE – WAIT, I'M GETTING SIDETRACKED HERE…

 

Death resumed talking to Ray and Fraser. THE POINT IS – I KNOW THE NAME OF EVERY LIVING THING – EVEN IF I DO HAVE HELP WITH SOME OF THEM. AS AN EXAMPLE – he indicated Diefenbaker – I KNOW THE NAME OF YOUR FOUR-LEGGED FRIEND HERE.

 

Death pulled out something from his robes. It looked like a very, very tiny hourglass. AND I'M AFRAID THAT I MUST INFORM YOU THAT YOU HAVE VERY LITTLE TIME LEFT TO SAY GOOD-BYE TO YOUR FRIEND FARLEY. HE IS NOT LONG FOR THIS WORLD.

 

Ray and Fraser frowned at each other and frowned at Death. Fraser said, "Excuse me, but his name isn't Farley."

 

Death stared at him. IT ISN'T?

 

"No, it's Diefenbaker. Nothing the least like Farley."

 

Ray said, "And that thing you've got there – that measures his life, doesn't it? Don't you think it's awful small for a wolf?"

 

Death looked closely at the Lifetimer and frowned. It's hard to tell how a skeleton could frown, but he did it. I DON'T UNDERSTAND. THIS CLEARLY INDICATES – He bent over and peered closely at Diefenbaker's back. Then he pointed. THERE.

 

Fraser leaned down to look. "Ah." He used his thumb and forefinger to pick something off of the wolf's back. He held up a flea, then dropped it on the ground and stepped on it.

 

The tiny Lifetimer disappeared.

 

RIGHT. COULD YOU TAKE CARE OF HIM?

 

SQUEAK! The Death of Rats hopped down and scurried over to the flea carcass, swinging his scythe around in preparation.

 

OKAY, I DON'T KNOW THE NAME OF THE WOLF, EITHER.

 

"But I just told you –”

 

I KNOW THAT YOU TOLD ME HIS NAME, LIKE YOU TOLD ME YOURS. IT ISN'T THE SAME AS MY KNOWING IT. NOW, THE QUESTION I'M ASKING MYSELF IS – WHY DON'T I KNOW YOUR NAMES?

 

Ray and Fraser looked at each other. Fraser replied, "I suppose it might have something to do with the fact that we came from somewhere else."

 

AH. THIS "SOMEWHERE ELSE" MUST BE FAR AWAY.

 

"Well… I suppose it is. We've come here from another dimension."

 

ANOTHER DIMENSION? WELL, THAT MAY EXPLAIN IT. THEN I WOULDN'T KNOW YOUR NAMES, NOR WOULD I HAVE LIFETIMERS FOR ANY OF YOU.

 

This caught Ray's attention. "Wait a minute. If you don't have – those timer things for us, what does that mean?"

 

I'M NOT SURE – THIS IS NEW TO ME. I'M GUESSING THAT IT MEANS THAT I CAN'T COME AFTER YOU AT THE END OF YOUR LIVES.

 

"And if Death can't come after us, does that mean…?"

 

I CAN FIGURE WHAT YOU'RE DRIVING AT. HUMANS DO TRY TO GET AWAY FROM THE INEVITABLE. BUT IN YOUR CASES, IT MAY ACTUALLY BE TRUE. IT MAY WELL BE THAT AS LONG AS YOU'RE HERE, YOU CAN'T DIE…

 

Ray smiled. "Hey, that doesn't sound bad at all!"

 

…NO MATTER HOW SEVERELY YOU'RE INJURED.

 

Ray's smile drooped somewhat.

 

YES, I THINK THAT'S RIGHT. CRUSHED LIMBS, DISEMBOWELMENT, SEVERED HEAD. ALL THAT COULD HAPPEN AND YOU'LL STILL LIVE.

 

"Urkg," said Ray.

 

Fraser said, "I guess that means, Ray, that we'll have to be careful."

 

"Sounds like a good idea, Benny."

 

WELL, THAT CLEARS IT ALL UP FOR ME. JUST SO LONG AS I KNOW WHY. Death put two bony fingers between his teeth and whistled. IF YOU WILL EXCUSE ME, I HAVE BUSINESS TO ATTEND TO.

 

A pure white horse, with black and silver harness and a silver saddle, came trotting up. Fraser smiled. "Ah – a very handsome creature! May I ask his name?"

 

BINKY.

 

Ray said, "Nice horse. Nice name. Ah… I'm kinda surprised that you don't go for the skeletal look with him."

 

Death replied, I TRIED THAT. BITS AND PIECES KEPT FALLING OFF. I WAS WASTING A LOT OF TIME BY STOPPING TO WIRE THEM BACK ON.

 

Just before he climbed into the saddle, Death turned to Ray. ONE MORE THING.

 

"And that is…"

 

I DON'T KNOW YOUR NAME.

 

It took a few seconds to sink in. "Oh – I'm Ray Vecchio."

 

Death held his hand out awkwardly. I'M, ER, PLEASED TO MEET YOU.

 

Ray had expected his handshake to be as cold as the grave, however cold that was. It wasn't really that bad. The bones were hard, though. "Likewise, I'm sure."

 

Fraser reached out and shook hands too. "It was nice meeting you."

 

Death looked at Ray. HE MEANS IT, DOESN'T HE?

 

Ray shrugged. "Yeah, that's Benny. Happy to meet everyone."

 

INTERESTING. Death swung up in Binky's saddle. PERHAPS WE'LL MEET AGAIN. BEST OF LUCK TO YOU BOTH. He was off, and the world came back again.

 

Fraser said, "Nice fellow."

 

"All right, up with your hands!"

 

Ray and Fraser automatically complied. They looked over their shoulders. They saw Sergeant Colon and Corporal Nobbs, with their swords drawn and pointed.

 

Diefenbaker saw them, too. He raised his hackles and snarled at them. Colon and Nobby took one look at the wolf and proceeded to try and stand behind each other.

 

Fraser said, "Quiet, Dief – Sergeant, is there something wrong?"

 

"'Is there something wrong?', he asks. Nothing's wrong, except that we see through your cunning plan now, Mr. Clever!"

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

"Don't play coy with me! I knew there was something fishy about you turning up all sudden-like, incineratin' yer way into the Watch – my watch! – and you just happenin' to be a dead ringer for the Captain!"

 

"Well, now, I've never been able to see –”

 

"Quiet!" Diefenbaker growled and Colon backed away. "We can see it all now! You were just bidin' your time, until you saw yer chance! Then when it came, you did somethin' with the Captain, dyed yer hair to match his, then marched right into the Palace, cool as you please, so you could do away with the Patrician!"

 

Ray blurted, "What! The Patrician? What's happened, Sergeant!"

 

"Don't act all innocent with me! You're in this, too, m'lad!" Colon continued with Fraser. "But things happened that you didn't count on, didn't they? Things like you passin' out at the critical junkter – junter – junch – critical time! So now, the Patrician's still alive, you're out cold in his office –” Colon finished with a note of triumph “– and Nobby and I have apperhended you!"

 

Ray and Fraser said nothing as they considered the logic of this. Even Corporal Nobbs looked a bit nonplussed.

 

Finally Fraser cautiously said, "Sergeant, if I'm supposedly an assassin that's just tried to kill the patrician, and if the assassin is now unconscious in his office – how is it that I'm here?"

 

Sergeant Colon's face went through the gyrations of someone attempting to comprehend higher thinking. Finally, he replied, "Sneaky foreign trickery!"

 

Ray sighed. He'd concluded that the only reason he was keeping his hands up in the air was simple courtesy. He said, "All right, you've caught us – what're you gonna do with us?"

 

Colon thought some more. "Well, we'll take you to the Watch House – I suppose…"

 

Fraser spoke up. "Why not take us to the scene of the crime? All criminals return to the scene of the crime!"

 

Ray said, "Yeah, that's a good idea! We do it now, it'll save us from doing it later!"

 

Colon's face lit up. "Fine! We'll do that then – Right, you two, in front of us! Keep yer hands where we can see 'em! Step lively now! Forrerd – MARCH!"

 

Ray and Fraser, covered by Colon and Nobby, headed for the Patrician's Palace. Diefenbaker followed. He grasped enough of the gravity of the situation to be leisurely wagging his tail.

 

Fraser whispered to Ray, "Still want to leave, Ray?"

 

Ray replied, "The story just got interesting again, Benny."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Once they'd entered the Patrician's Oblong Office, Sergeant Colon was terribly disappointed to find the would-be assassin laid out on the floor, and that the would-be assassin was positively identified as Captain Carrot. It dealt a blow to his personal theories on the case. Commander Vimes could feel sympathy for the man.

 

However, the look of disappointment on the Sergeant's face was nothing compared to the look on Lord Vetinari's face when he saw Lance-Constable Benton Fraser. Both of his eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened just a bit. It was as close as Vimes had ever seen the Patrician come to letting his jaw drop and his eyes bug out. As serious as the situation was, Vimes was glad he'd had the chance to see that.

 

Vetinari looked at Carrot. A doctor was examining the Captain, while Corporal Angua hovered nearby. "Hovered" was probably not the right word – the phrase "ready to pounce" seemed better. And Vetinari looked back at Fraser.

 

Finally the Patrician cleared his throat and asked, "The resemblance is… striking. Are you a relative, by some chance?"

 

Fraser replied, "I'm positive that we're not related, Your Lordship. And if you ask me, everyone seems to exaggerate the resemblance. I can't see it myself, personally."

 

"Ah. Well, I'm sure you know what you look like. Sergeant Colon, do put your sword away before someone gets hurt. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but it's clear that these gentlemen have nothing to do with this unpleasant incident." Vetinari frowned. "Do they?"

 

Fraser replied, "Oh, I can assure you that we know nothing about this. You have my word."

 

The Patrician studied Fraser for a few seconds. "No, I believe you don't. You strike me as a man who wouldn't lie about such a thing."

 

Oh, yes, Benny's naïve, backwoods-boy honesty. There were times when it irritated Ray to no end. This was definitely not one of those times.

 

Vimes stepped forward. "I may as well make introductions. Your Lordship, Lance-Constables Benton Fraser and Raymond Vecchio of the Night Watch. Fraser, Vecchio, His Lordship Havelock Vetinari, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork."

 

Ray had heard much about this Vetinari. Most of it was negative, but a grudging-admiration, he's-the-best-we've-got sort of negative. When he shook hands with Ray, his grip was strong and his smile looked sincere.

 

Vimes turned to the other Watchmen and said, "Sergeant Colon – Corporal Nobbs. I don't think you're needed here now. I doubt if Fraser or Vecchio will cause any trouble."

 

Colon asked, "And if they do give you trouble, sir?"

 

Vimes replied, "I think people here can handle them if they do." He indicated Angua.

 

Colon contemplated the idea of two men going up against Corporal Angua. "Ah. Right, sir", he replied in the manner of a man who could see the logic, but would regret not being around to see the results. "Nobby and I will be on our way, then."

 

Angua didn't say anything. Her attention was focused on the comatose Captain. She'd never said much to him, but Ray had figured out how much Carrot meant to her. Diefenbaker was sitting by her side, and she idly scratched the wolf's head. It was amazing how close the two had become.

 

Not long after Colon and Nobby had left, the doctor straightened up and snapped his black bag shut with that sound of finality unique to doctor's black bags. Everyone turned to look at him.

 

The doctor was in his fifties, with a gray beard, a bald head and a face that would be smiling under different circumstances. He said, "Well, nothing much I can do for the boy. I can't see anything physically wrong with him. Pulse is normal; no trouble breathing. However, he's not asleep. It's like he's in some sort of…" The doctor shrugged. "…idle mode. If I were to make a guess, I'd say that his condition is magical in origin."

 

Vimes sighed and asked, "Is there anything that can be done to bring him out of it?"

 

"If there is, I don't know what it would be. All I can recommend for now is to have someone watch over him. We'll wait and see what develops." The doctor shook his head and said to Vetinari, "I'm sorry, Your Lordship."

 

Vetinari replied, "Quite all right, doctor. There's only so much you can do, I know. Thank you for coming down on such short notice."

 

"Any time, Your Lordship. Oh, by the way, is there anything else I can do while I'm here?"

 

"Yes, there is, in fact. I'm running low on ointment for mange."

 

"Ah, good. Just happen to have some." He reached into his bag and brought out a small jar which he handed to Vetinari. "How is the mange looking, Your Lordship?"

 

"Oh, much better, I think. And he's not limping as much, either."

 

"Excellent! I'll drop in later in the week to give him a look-over. Well, until then." And the doctor placed a floppy hat on his head and left.

 

Ray had never been one much to stand on ceremony if he didn't want to. He looked at the ruler of the City of Ankh-Morpork and said, "Ointment for Mange?"

 

"Yes. For Wuffles."

 

"Wuffles… That sounds like – is that a dog's name?" Vetinari nodded. Ray looked down at Carrot. "You gotta be kiddin'! You called in a veterinarian to treat Carrot?"

 

The Patrician was a master at the Straight Face. He replied, "Well, yes. Not only that, he's my personal physician. I wanted someone I can trust."

 

Ray frowned. "What, don't you trust a people-type doctor?"

 

Vetinari smiled. "Let's say I don't trust them quite as much. And I'm not the only one. You have to realize, Constable Vecchio, that the citizenry of Ankh-Morpork are more likely to call upon an animal doctor than a – um – people-type doctor when they're ill. Veterinarians are under much more pressure to get it right, you see."

 

"Really?"

 

"Really. If an elderly relative dies, the usual reaction is that it was the Will of the Deity of Choice, so who can argue with it? But if a horse or cow dies, people get upset."

 

"Ah."

 

Vimes was staring at Carrot, and he growled. "Magic. Terrific – that's just what we need. It's almost impossible to trace a magical attack."

 

Fraser asked, "Well, could we ask one of the wizards for help? Maybe they could trace it if this is magic-based."

 

Ray and Vimes snorted derisively as one.

 

"Ah. Perhaps we can go after it from another direction. Your Lordship, is there anyone that would have a motive for your murder?"

 

Fraser didn't get an answer. Vimes and Vetinari exchanged significant glances.

 

"I think you're on a roll, Benny. Let me try – is there anyone that would have a motive for your murder, Your Lordship, sir, but is too stupid to see that things would be worse off without you?"

 

"That narrows it down somewhat, Vecchio." From somewhere Vimes produced a cigar and lit it. Vetinari was not one to prohibit smoking in his office. "We also have to consider the type of magic employed, if magic it is. A spell to make someone else do your bidding – it's not the sort of magic that everyone has easy access to."

 

"Understood. It appears to be similar to voodoo."

 

"You better not let Reg hear you say that, Benny. He's sensitive about the whole zombie image thing."

 

Vime puffed away. "Not necessarily voodoo, but I believe that that points in the right direction. Certainly the sort of thing you'll see in Genua. It's like Carrot was hypnotised."

 

Fraser said, "Are you perhaps referring to the Evil Eye, sir?" Vimes nodded.

 

Ray said, "That kinda magic is expensive to get, huh? Fine, we're looking for someone who wants to see the Patrician dead, is stupid enough to actually go for it, and is rich enough to pay for doing it this way. By process of elimination, that points to…"

 

"The aristocracy of Ankh-Morpork." Vimes put a lot of meaning into those words.

 

"Wait a minute… Benny, remember that suicide by troll the night we first started? Could that've been the same thing – somebody hoodooed by this Evil Eye thing?"

 

Fraser said, "You may well be right, Ray. In any case, the Aristocracy is a good place to start. The Watch needs to investigate further. Commander, Constable Vecchio and I make a good team –”

 

Angua had said nothing. She was watching over the most exasperating man she knew. Now she stood up and said, "Commander, put me on the investigation. I could find out –”

 

"No. I don't want the regular patrolmen investigating this. If the Watch starts doing things out of the ordinary, people will notice and they'll get nervous. Better to keep a low profile. The Watch has its own detective branch and I want them to handle it. You people will go on patrol as usual."

 

The Patrician spoke up, in a soft voice that cut through all conversation. "Actually, Commander, what with something like this, I was thinking that I should have a personal bodyguard. In case this happens again. Someone from the Watch would do nicely."

 

"Well, that's your right, sir. Did you have someone specific in mind?"

 

"Why, Lance-Constable Fraser comes to mind."

 

Vimes replied, as neutrally as he could, "Very good, Your Lordship." Vetinari was playing games again. There was nothing Vimes could do about it, either. "He'll be assigned to you right away."

 

Vimes continued. "I want someone to send for a stretcher. We need to move the Captain to a bed – his apartment would be good. And I want this to be discreet; we'll keep Carrot's part in this confidential for now.  I want to keep a lid on the details of this, for that matter."

 

Angua spoke up again. "Sir, I still want to look into this. I can do it in my spare time."

 

Vimes could sympathize with her. There were things that he couldn't say, though. "I'm afraid not, Corporal. I think it's best to have someone watching over the Captain while he's in this state. Your time would be better served doing that."

 

Angua's reply was cool. "Yes, sir."

 

Ray said, "What about when she's on duty? Who'll look after him then?"

 

No one answered. Fraser looked down. Then Ray looked down, as did Commander Vimes, Corporal Angua and Lord Vetinari.

 

Diefenbaker wondered why all the humans were looking at him.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Commander Vimes had said he didn't want the regular Watch patrolmen investigating, but that didn't mean that at least one of them couldn't take part in some capacity.

 

On their way back to Pseudopolis Yard, Commander Vimes said in a low voice to Ray, "Lance-Constable, I'd like you to come in to the Watch House during the day tomorrow. I want to start asking the upper crust folk some questions and I'd like you to be my escort." He looked around. "I'd prefer it to be you rather than Corporal Angua. She tends to get… emotional… and if she decided that we'd found the party responsible – well, I don't think I could control her."

 

Ray said, "I understand, sir", though he didn't know the half of it. "What time should I be at the Watch House, sir?"

 

"About Noon time, I'd say. Please be in uniform."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

The next afternoon Ray and Vimes were riding along King's Way in the Commander's private carriage. It was trimmed in gold and upholstered in velvet, which fitted Sir Vimes' social station. The Commander lit a large cigar and proceeded to puff away. From time to time he knocked the ashes onto the velvet upholstery, which had seen quite a lot of cigar ash. This fitted Policeman Vimes' opinion of Sir Vimes' social standing.

 

"Now then, Lance-Constable, we'll hit maybe five or six of these places this afternoon. Not very many, I know, but you've got to be polite or these birds will get cagey. I'm particularly anxious to talk with Lord Dorking and his neighbor, Lord Sink. I don't like those two. Most of the high hats don't like the Patrician, but those two seem to have it a little worse than most."

 

"High on the list of suspects, sir?"

 

Vimes looked out the carriage window. He wasn't certain whose estate they were passing now, but it was a posh one. An ornate front gate, a glimpse of a carefully tended flower bed. He would have guessed that it was tended by someone who wasn't being paid what he was worth.

 

"High on the list, yes, Lance-Constable, but it's still a large list."

 

"I'm not from around here, Commander. Is the upper crust that bad, if you'll excuse my asking?"

 

"It's probably safe to say 'Guilty Until Proven Innocent', Mr. Vecchio. If it were up to me, I'd throw the whole lot in jail. I'm sure there's plenty of justification."

 

"Even Lord Vetinari, sir?"

 

"Especially Lord Vetinari!"

 

"Excuse me again, sir, but you'd have to lock yourself up, too."

 

Vimes stared at Ray. "Don't think I haven't thought about it, Lance-Constable."

 

The interview with Lord Dorking was typical of them all, if a bit more irritating. "I'm not sure I understand why you're asking our people about this, Vimes. Surely the cream of Ankh-Morpork society wouldn't stoop to something as crass as killing the Patrician?" Rich, hearty laughter.

 

"Perhaps not directly. But it's just possible that some of the cream of Ankh-Morpork society would be willing to pay to see it done. And the Watch has to cover all possibilities."

 

"Yes, quite so, I suppose. Don't know what I can do to help." Intimate chuckle.

 

"You might be surprised. Have you by any chance had reason to employ someone from Genua recently?"

 

"Genua? Genua?" Rich, hearty laughter. "Not the slightest reason in the world, my boy! What could someone from Genua give me that I'd have the least use for?"

 

"Magic, perhaps?"

 

Intimate chuckle. "Oh, I'd definitely have no use for Genuan magic! Voodoo? We've got wizards here – finest wizards on the Disk! Mind you, zombies might come in handy. Working class is getting uppity these days – at least zombies wouldn't talk back!" Rich, hearty laughter.

 

Vimes thought about Reg Shoe during the recent dispute over the benefits package, but he let the matter go. "One other thing – you may not remember this, but I'll ask anyway. Do you remember about two months ago, when someone tried to strangle a troll?"

 

"Strangle a troll? Good heavens! What with this attempt on Vetinari – strangulation seems to be the way to go nowadays, doesn't it?" Intimate chuckle. "Are you saying it was the same man?" Rich, hearty laughter.

 

"Well, no – the assailant didn't survive the attack. At any rate, the person who attacked the troll was eventually identified as an out-of-work stevedore, and he'd been seen wandering this neighborhood the night of the incident." Vimes passed over a pencil sketch; it was a portrait of the unlucky attacker, as best as the Watch artist could reconstruct from what had been left. "Do you recognize this man?"

 

"This the chap? No, I don't remember seeing him." Intimate chuckle. "Afraid I'm not much help, Commander."

 

"Very well. We won't take up any more of your time. Thank you, Lord Dorking."

 

"You're most welcome. Oh, yes. The renovation is nearly complete. I expect it'll be ready for dedication in a week. I'll send you an invitation; I'd dearly love for you and Lady Sybil to come. The entertainment promises to be grand!" Rich, hearty laughter.

 

And so it went with most of the others. The exception was Lord Sink. When Vimes and Ray were shown in to his study, Lord Sink almost fell over himself with welcome.

 

"Commander Vimes! And one of your excellent Constables! Superb bunch of people, the Watch, even those that aren't people! Especially those that aren't people! Wonderful idea, letting all those non-human chaps into the Watch! Here, have some of my best wine! I'd been saving it for a special occasion, but there can't be anything more special than this, eh?"

 

Vimes wasn't quite sure what to make of this. "Ah – no thank you, my Lord. We're on duty at the moment –”

 

"Quite right, quite right! Mustn't interfere with a policeman's duty! And what important duty it is, quite! Tracking down all those evil people! Most important duty there is, the way I see it! What can a humble man like myself do to help the Watch?"

 

"Well – you've no doubt heard of the attempt on the Patrician's life yesterday. We're asking some routine questions –”

 

"Terrible business, that! Just terrible! What kind of low individual would want to do away with Vetinari? Wonderful chap, Vetinari! Not a night that I don't wake up in the wee hours and thank the Gods of Luck that we have such a fine gentleman like Vetinari running things! Come to tears a few times, I'll tell you! I'll tell you something else, too, Commander… There are times when I pass the Palace, and I have to stop and gaze at those ramparts, I'm so overcome with emotion… That's how much I feel about that wonderful man!"

 

"Er… We were wondering if you knew anything that relates to our enquiry –”

 

"Not a thing, dear boy, not a thing! Tell you if I did! It would be my duty to tell you, as a citizen of this fine city! It would be my deepest privilege! I'd feel the deepest pride to my dying day, knowing that I helped the Watch in the course of its duties!"

 

"Very well… You may not have heard of it, but there was an attempt to murder a troll some weeks back –”

 

"Shocking! Most shocking! Wonderful folks, trolls! I deeply enjoy the company of trolls! Have to see if I can marry my daughter off to one! Please me no end!"

 

Vimes stared at him. "Excuse me, but did you say – you want your own daughter to marry a troll?"

 

"Of course! Fine son-in-law a troll would make! Don't you agree?"

 

"Well… There's the matter of children…"

 

"Oh, well, they could always adopt! In fact, that's a capital idea! I'll go out and adopt a troll! Do it first thing tomorrow –”

 

Vimes jumped in at this point. "Excuse me, Lord Sink, but I think we ought to be going. I really appreciate your – enthusiasm, but it doesn't look like you can help us. I'm terribly sorry to have taken up your time."

 

"Oh, think nothing of it, old chap! Always happy to speak with the Watch! Glad they're doing the right thing! Almost makes me want to commit a crime to keep you boys in business! Feel free to drop in at any time, Commander Vimes! Best food, best wine, perhaps even some company for the night –”

 

Vimes and Ray got out of there as fast as they could. Sink stood at the door, loudly proclaiming their virtues. Had they looked, they might have seen a hint of desperation around his eyes…

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

"Well, Lance-Constable Vecchio, you didn't have much to say."

 

"It wasn't my place to speak, Commander. I thought I could do the most good by keeping quiet."

 

"Very good. What do you think?"

 

"They're all suspicious characters to me, sir. But Lord Sink – that was one remarkable performance."

 

"Yes…" Vimes looked out the carriage window. "A remarkable performance, indeed. Obviously phony."

 

"I take it he's not that big a supporter of the Watch, sir?"

 

"No. Nor of the presence of non-humans in Ankh-Morpork. And especially not of the Patrician. The whole thing was phony. I'd say Lord Sink bears watching."

 

Ray thought for a moment. "Begging the Commander's pardon, sir, but I'm not sure I agree."

 

Vimes looked at him intently. "Oh? And why not, may I ask? Do you actually believe him?"

 

"Oh, no, sir, it was phony, all right, I agree with that. But… it struck me as being a little too phony. He laid it on so thick that he couldn't have possibly thought we'd swallow it. Nobody is that dumb! I say it was a put-up job."

 

"I don't know, Constable, we've had the odd king or two here that wore his underwear on his head. And I wouldn't be surprised to find some pretty twisted branches in the family trees around here today. I know the upper crust in this town – some are as thick as two planks. Take it from me, Mr. Vecchio, there is something mighty suspicious about our Lord Sink. Besides, do you have a better suspect?"

 

Ray frowned. "Nobody I can point to readily, sir. I don't like Lord Dorking, but that's just because he gets on my nerves."

 

"Oh, yes, the laugher. The man is putting up a feeble attempt at a sense of humor. Very irritating, I agree, but the man's harmless."

 

Ray Vecchio and Commander Samuel Vimes had a lot in common – they were both what could be termed "street-wise". But street wisdom only went so far; beyond that one had to guess. It was a sad mischance that Vimes had guessed wrong and Ray had guessed right.

 

Vimes continued. "I think Lord Sink is our most likely suspect. Once we get back to the Watch House I'll put some undercover people on him. He may lay low, or he may strike again very soon. Either way, we need to watch him."

 

Ray replied, "Sir, I really think that someone should do a little more snooping. I can do a lot during the day –”

 

Vimes held up his hand. "No, Lance-Constable, this is something better left to others. The aristocracy is powerful in this city. If we make a wrong move – if we accuse someone prematurely – it could mean the dissolution of the Watch. I don't like it, but that's the way it is. Let the professionals handle it."

 

"Sir –”

 

"Vecchio, stick with street patrol. That is an order."

 

Ray's face remained neutral. "Yes, sir."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Angua came into the bedroom with a plate of food. She sat down next to the bed and looked at Carrot. He lay on his back, as he had since they'd brought him in. If he moved around any, she hadn't noticed.

 

Whatever state Carrot was in, it wasn't sleep. If she looked closely enough, Angua could see that his eyes weren't completely closed. But she didn't want to look too closely – Carrot's eyes were blank. Or rather, it was a surface blankness; something was there, underneath.

 

Angua had been there all day, catching short naps when she dared. The rest of the time she just watched.

 

She looked down at the plate of food. It was the first time she'd made a meal for Carrot in this state. Ordinarily he was a big eater, and the plate held heaping portions of beef, potatoes and green beans, with a chunk of whole wheat bread. It was a good meal.

 

Now she wasn't sure what to do with it.

 

Finally she sighed and said, "Oh, Carrot, you've got to eat somehow."

 

Abruptly Carrot sat upright in bed, and Angua almost dropped the plate. He reached over and took it from her hands and began to eat.

 

Carrot didn't make a sound while he ate, nor did the blankness leave his eyes. He just ate mechanically, and when he was done, he sat there in bed with the plate in his lap.

 

Angua stared at him for a few moments, then took the plate away. She'd brought a flagon with her, and now she held this up. "This is water – you need to drink, too."

 

Carrot took the flagon and slowly, but steadily drank the contents. When it was empty, he set the flagon in his lap and remained sitting up.

 

Angua said softly, "At least we don't have to worry about you starving. But there's the problem of exercise."

 

Abruptly Carrot climbed out of his bed, walked to the center of the room, and began to do some calisthenics. Sit-ups, deep knee bends, push-ups, running in place – he did these for about fifteen minutes. All with the same blank expression.

 

"Well – all that leaves is –”

 

Carrot turned around and went through a door into another room. In a few minutes, he came back again, automatically tucking his shirt into his pants, climbed back into bed and continued lying on his back.

 

Angua felt ready to burst into tears.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Not for the first time, Lord Vetinari wondered if Lance-Constable Fraser were a golem.

 

Oh, he looked human right enough, but there was no reason why a golem couldn't be made to look human, if you were a good sculptor with clay and if you put some effort into it. It would explain why he looked so much like Captain Carrot.

 

It would also explain why Fraser was so good at standing at attention for long periods of time.

 

As the Patrician's personal bodyguard, it was Fraser's duty to stand at attention in the background while Lord Vetinari was in conference with visitors. Vetinari had found that Fraser could stand still far better than anyone else he'd seen. Nothing moved – not a single muscle. Fraser's eyes never wavered from a forward stare. Vetinari supposed he blinked occasionally, though he'd never seen him do it.

 

Two nights ago, when Vetinari had given him an at-ease order, Fraser had relaxed and said, "Your Lordship, I have to inform you that your office is infested with ants."

 

"Thank you, Lance-Constable. I'll contact the Exterminator's Guild. When did you notice this?"

 

"Three hours ago, Your Lordship, when they began crawling up my leg."

 

Vetinari would now and forever more have the perfect mental image for the phrase "as still as a statue".

 

Now, Fraser stood to one side, doing his statue imitation while the Patrician was listening to the opening arguments of the Anti-Immorality Committee. Vetinari sat and tried to look attentive. It wouldn't do to sigh and roll his eyes.

 

Vetinari saw delegations like this frequently. In the spiritual melting-pot that was Ankh-Morpork, not all religions were tolerant of those women whose affections are negotiable. [NOTE: Many religions in Ankh-Morpork have come across an important fact about the second-oldest profession: that there's money to be made. Religion has its practical side.] So, a few of them come together, cease whatever hostilities there may be over points of doctrine and form a coalition to Get Something Done About This Wickedness. What they usually want done is the closing down of the Seamstresses' Guild. And the coalition would send someone to see the Patrician.

 

This particular delegation was typical, consisting of three old men dressed in pretty drab robes, although the colors were all different, but they were trying a relatively rare tack this time. The youngest of the three – the one with the least number of wrinkles, that is – was going on about how the Profession exploited helpless young women, and how it was demeaning to them. Vetinari had to admit it was refreshing. Normally, the argument put forth by these anti-immorality crusaders was simply that It Was Evil And Wicked and against whatever they called their Holy Book. As a rule, the high priests of these particular religions were men who considered a woman's proper position in life was quiet, submissive, fertile and two steps behind. Lord Vetinari couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a High Priestess on any of these coalitions.

 

The delegation had been somewhat taken aback at the sight of Fraser. There had been vague rumors that Captain Carrot had tried to kill the Patrician, yet here was the Captain – or was it the Captain? The hair color was different – and why didn't he move? But they'd gotten used to the Lance-Constable's presence and were now in full persuasion mode.

 

At this point, someone discreetly tapped at the door, and Lord Vetinari smiled. "Ah, we have some more visitors, gentlemen! I was expecting them at any time!"

 

The argument came to an abrupt halt and the spokesman frowned. "Visitors? Who are these visitors? Why are they here?"

 

"Oh, someone who has an interest in this matter. I thought you might like to listen to a counter-argument." The Patrician got up and went to open the door.

 

In came a refined, matronly woman, dressed tastefully in the latest fashion, followed by two younger ladies whose clothing seemed slightly gaudier than good fashion sense dictated.

 

The Patrician bowed deeply and said, "Ah, Mrs. Palm. So good of you to come."

 

The lady smiled and extended her hand. "Lord Vetinari. It's a pleasure to be here." The Patrician took her hand in his and gave it a light kiss.

 

Vetinari turned to the delegation from the Anti-Immorality Committee and said, "Gentlemen, may I present Mrs. Rosemary Palm, president of the Seamstresses' Guild." He turned to Mrs. Palm. "And your young companions are…?"

 

"Ooh, isn't he a handsome one!"

 

"A quiet type, too. I like the quiet ones!"

 

Vetinari and Mrs. Palm turned. The two young ladies had noticed Fraser and were ooh-ing and ahh-ing over him.

 

Fraser didn't move a muscle. But Vetinari saw proof that he wasn't a golem. Golems don't blush.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

"You may stand at ease, Lance-Constable Fraser."

 

The Anti-Immorality Committee had suffered a blow to its cause. The two young ladies had recognised one member of the delegation as being an old friend and another as being a terrible tipper. Mrs. Palm had chosen them well. As far as the Patrician was concerned, it had been a productive meeting.

 

Fraser relaxed, relatively speaking; Benton Fraser standing at ease would have earned praise from drill sergeants for how well he was standing at attention. He sighed more deeply than usual. Lord Vetinari refrained from commenting why.

 

Instead, Vetinari decided to chat. "I've been told by Commander Vimes that you're not from Ankh-Morpork, Lance-Constable. So, tell me where you're from."

 

"Well, Your Lordship, I'm originally from Canada, but my friend Ray Vecchio and I came here from Chicago. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my Father, and… well, it's a long story. I'm sure you don't want to hear the details."

 

Vetinari pondered this for a moment. "Hm. Canada? Chicago? I don't believe I've heard of these places. Curious." He turned his chair around to reach a nearby cabinet and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. Rolling it out on his desk, he studied it for a few moments. It was a map of the Disc. "Do you think you could point them out for me?"

 

"Ah. I don't believe I can do that, Your Lordship."

 

Vetinari looked surprised in an academic sort of way. "Really. Is there a reason? Perhaps you're not that familiar with geography?"

 

Fraser hesitated, then finally said, "You Lordship, you may not believe this – and I have no way of convincing you, I know. But my friend, Ray, and I are – well, we're from another world?"

 

The surprise wasn't so academic now. "Another world, you say?"

 

"Yes, Your Lordship. Possibly from another dimension."

 

"Ah." Vetinari leaned back in his chair. "I had a professor at the Assassins' Guild – is something wrong, Lance-Constable?"

 

"Er… no, sir, not as – well, to be honest… Did you attend the Assassins' Guild, Your Lordship?"

 

"Oh, yes. The Guild offers the best education in the city, possibly the best on the entire Disc. Most students never become assassins, if that bothers you, Lance-Constable. Many just go there for the learning.

 

"Where was I? Oh, yes – My Philosophy professor at the Guild mentioned theories about other worlds and other dimensions, but it was only in passing. An interesting idea, but there's no real way to prove it one way or another, is there? And you say you're from another world, then?"

 

"Ah, yes, Your Lordship. I can't prove it, though. You'd have to take my word for it."

 

Vetinari nodded.

 

Fraser wasn't sure what to make of this. "Ah, Your Lordship – do you believe me?"

 

Vetinari smiled. "Who can say what's real and what's imagined, Lance-Constable? Who can say?"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

It had been a long week.

 

Fraser entered the apartment and placed his helmet on the table. Ray wasn't around, which disappointed Fraser mildly. Since Fraser worked bodyguard duty by day and Ray was on duty with the Watch at night, they'd only seen each other in passing for the past six days.

 

Fraser went over to the window and opened it. Diefenbaker leaped through and Fraser heard a familiar voice say, "Here's your wolf friend, squire. He's still having some bother navigating!"

 

Fraser looked out at the rear courtyard. As before, the only creature in sight was the mutt named Gaspode. The dog looked up at Fraser, wagged his tail and said, "Woof".

 

Fraser smiled at the dog and leaned against the window sill. He started talking to Gaspode. It wasn't the same as talking to Diefenbaker.

 

"You know, I've been thinking. The Unseen University is a remarkable institution. It has to be a risky place to be around, what with all that magic about."

 

"Bow wow."

 

"Some of the magic leaks out, I know, and it changes things. I've seen the results of that in the Library. But it has to be all over the University and the surrounding area – a sort of low-level background magical field. I've seen the field mice nearby. They've already discovered the wheel and have built miniature carts. Now I gather that they've developed long-term parking and some mice are starting to complain about the inflated prices. The magic has changed them. I'm sure it changes other animals as well."

 

"Er – woof?"

 

Fraser was speaking casually. "I've been wondering, for instance, what would happen to a dog that spent too much time near the University – perhaps it found a place to sleep overnight next to the kitchen. How would the magic change him?"

 

Fraser looked down at Gaspode. "Would the dog, for example, develop the ability to talk?"

 

Gaspode looked up at the human for a few seconds, then finally said, "You're a clever one, aren't ya?"

 

Fraser shrugged. "Well, it wasn't difficult to figure it out. All it took was a little logic."

 

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised how many people have sussed on to me dirty little secret. As in not very many. Says a lot about the human race right there, seems to me. About the only other one was the guy called Carrot. Not like I'm worried that you'll tell anyone."

 

"Do you trust me that much?"

 

"Oh, yeah, I suppose I do. The wolf has nice things to say about you, except that you're a bloody tyrant about letting him have sweets. But it don't matter whether I can trust you or not. Who's gonna believe you?"

 

"Understood. And that does say something about humans."

 

"Right you are. Well, it's getting close to supper time for me. Gotta be on me way, Squire."

 

"Very well. I've enjoyed our little chat. I hope we can do it again some time."

 

"Can't say yes, can't say no. See ya around, mate."

 

"Oh, yes, one more thing before you go – thank you for helping Diefenbaker."

 

"Any time. Nice one, that Dief. See ya."

 

"Good-bye." Just as Fraser was closing the window, Ray came through the front door.

 

"Hey, stranger! Long time no see, Benny! You don't usually get home this early!"

 

"Hello, Ray! The Patrician sent me home early today. One of the city's aristocrats has just completed restoration of an old game court on his property and he's invited Lord Vetinari to do the dedication tomorrow morning."

 

"Oh, really? Something like a tennis court? What's so important about one of those that makes it worth the Patrician's attention?"

 

"Well, from what I understand, it was originally designed and built a long time ago by someone named Bergholt Stuttly Johnson. He was a quite famous designer in his time, and there is still enough interest in his work that there have been several recent restoration projects undertaken by wealthy citizens. This particular artifact is, so I'm told by Lord Vetinari, an outdoor chess court."

 

"An outdoor chess court? I think I've seen something like that. It's a real big board and they use human pieces, right?"

 

"Correct. This one includes two spectators' galleries as well. It's all quite elaborate."

 

"Sounds like it. Who bankrolled this rebuild?"

 

"Lord Dorking. It's on his property."

 

Ray frowned. "He's one guy Commander Vimes interviewed a few days ago. Between you and me, Dorking is a jerk."

 

"We can't make judgments on people we hardly know, Ray. What is the status on the investigation, by the way?"

 

"Nothing much is going on, from what I know. Vimes still thinks Lord Sink is the prime suspect and he's got a couple of gargoyles watching his place."

 

"And what do you think, Ray?"

 

"I still think he's wrong. It's too obvious to me. And there's something else that's been bothering me. Something I heard while we were talking with those high-hats. Thing of it is, I can't remember what it was. All I know is that something sounded funny."

 

"I know there hasn't been any change in Carrot's condition. How has Angua been doing?"

 

Ray shook his head. "I think it's been getting to her. At the moment she's doing her job all right, but I can tell she's worried about Carrot. If his condition doesn't change, I don't know how it'll end up affecting her."

 

"Well, we're all worried about Carrot."

 

"True. How about you, Benny? How's the bodyguard business going?"

 

Fraser looked uncomfortable. "Lord Vetinari has his… ways about doing things. It takes some getting used to. The amount of manipulation he performs to keep this city running is… Ray, it bothers me sometimes."

 

Ray sat down. "Hey, this is a big city, Benny. You gotta make some compromises to keep things working." He smiled and said, "From what I've seen, Chicago could learn a few things from this place!" He stopped smiling when he saw the look on Fraser's face. "Sorry. It was just a joke."

 

Finally Fraser said, "Yes, I suppose you do have to make compromises. But… Some of the things that he allows – that he encourages… Ray, it isn't right."

 

"No, it's not, Benny. But from what I've seen in the past couple of months, Ankh-Morpork could be a lot worse than it is. And if somebody wasn't doing something, it would be a lot worse. Yeah, there's a Thieves Guild and the Seamstresses' Guild – and how they get off calling themselves 'seamstresses' is beyond me – and the Assassin's Guild. But without the guilds, that stuff would still be going on, and there would be a lot more of it. In this city, you may never be able to get rid of the crime completely and you'd probably do more harm than good if you tried. The guilds seem to regulate all that stuff, and there's less of it."

 

"That doesn't make it right, Ray."

 

"No, it doesn't, Benny. Welcome to the human race. They seem to be more human here in Ankh-Morpork than what we're used to. And I don't mean 'human' in the good sense, either."

 

Fraser shook his head. "What gets to me is that Lord Vetinari doesn't do this out of any malice. He genuinely loves Ankh-Morpork, and he believes that what he's doing is in the city's best interests."

 

"He may be right, Benny."

 

Fraser nodded. "I know, Ray."

 

After an awkward silence, Ray stood up. "Well, I gotta get ready to go to work. I'll take Dief with me and drop him off at Carrot's place as usual." This had been the arrangement for the past week. Ray would stop at Carrot's apartment, Diefenbaker would take over watching Carrot from Angua and she would go on to the Watch House with Ray.

 

Fraser stood up, too. "Yes, I need to get out of my uniform and get ready for bed. I want to give my breastplate a thorough polishing, too. I want to look my best tomorrow."

 

Ray looked at Fraser's armor and chuckled. "As opposed to how it looks now? You could blind an opponent with – WHAT the?!"

 

"Ray, what's wrong?"

 

Ray pointed. "Your breastplate, Fraser, that's what's wrong! It just changed color!"

 

Fraser looked down. His breastplate was now red. Not just any red, either; he recognised the shade. "Oh, dear."

 

He looked at his helmet. "Oh, dear." He reached for it and picked it up by its wide, flat brim. What made this odd was that Watch issue helmets didn't have wide, flat brims.

 

Ray stared. "Benny, what's happening with your uniform? It almost looks like –”

 

"Yes, Ray, it does. This shade of red matches my RCMP tunic." He hefted the helmet. "And this is shaped like my Stetson."

 

Things changed again. The helmet clattered to the floor when the brim Fraser was holding disappeared. And his breastplate was back to its old bronze finish.

 

Ray and Fraser looked at one another.

 

"Benny, I'm guessing this is not good."

 

"I believe that one of us is going to have to speak to the Librarian. It seems to be over now, but you're right. This is not good."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

It's been said that Nature abhors a vacuum, which is really oversimplification. Nature doesn't care about vacuums one way or another. It just lets them fill up with nearby material; if there isn't any nearby material, the vacuum stays and Nature goes on about its business.

 

What the Universe – or Nature, if you will – really dislikes is something that isn't where it should be. And, depending on the Universe in question, it may dislike it enough to try and do something about it.

 

The Universe which contained the Discworld was more of an activist than most, so when two men came over from another Universe, it was bound to react sooner or later.

 

The change in Fraser's armor was the Universe's attempt to set things right by making him look like he normally would in his home Universe. It was not a good attempt, but the Discworld's Universe wasn't very adept at these things.

 

The Universe gave up – for the moment. The next time, it would try a little harder.

 

In many respects the Universe is delicately balanced. If it tried too hard to do something, things could blow up in its face.

 

END OF PART III

Go to Part IV

 

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".