The Death of the Patrician

Watch Commander Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh, slumped over his desk in bitter anger. "Report." He said.

Watch Captain Angua straightened up, her hair unusually haggard and her eyes bleary. "We've gotten reports of at least three more outbreaks in the West End." She reported. "We've taken all the quarantine measures we can, but there's no telling how far it's gone already."

"I know that, damnit." Vimes snapped. He was being unfair, he knew, but he couldn't help it. "Tell me what you found in the sewers."

"Rats." Angua shrugged with exasperation. "What did you expect me to find? The place is crawling with rats. Some of the dwarves got out, but most of them are just plague-infested skeletons."

"Ith woulth beth pothible to devithe a compound to rethuce everythingth in the thewers to ash." Forensic specialist Igor suggested helpfully.

"That whole block is like tinder." Vimes growled in return. "What else?"

"Still no word from the guards posted around the Unseen University grounds," answered Captain Carrot. The usually-bright watch captain was actually looking slightly weary. Vimes even thought there was the suspicion of whiskers appearing on his chin. "The tower hasn't re-appeared, and the wizards haven't returned. But I'm certain they'll return once they've drafted a proper cure to the plague, sir!' He added.

"Maybe." Vimes growled. "Or maybe they'll just stay in their pocket dimension until this infernal plague's ripped through us all and there's nothing left to infect them." Vimes had never liked wizards, and the few profitable run-ins that HAD occurred had all been wiped away by the University's decision to vanish from Ankh-Morpork until a cure had been developed.

"Lord Downey is suggesting setting aside the Shades as a holding place for any infected people." Angua intoned, her voice tired. "It would limit the spread of the disease..."

"Over my dead body."

Angua bowed her head, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Yes sir."

"There is a bit of good news, sir." Captain Carrot spoke up. "Watchman Haddock just sent a note—apparently Lord Corvo Attano has just returned from Klatch."

"Wonderful." Vimes sunk even lower in his chair.

"Yes sir." Carrot nodded, invincible from sarcasm. "He's come back early, which means he probably found a cure to the disease in one of the other countries."

Vimes sighed. "Captain, even supposing the other countries did have a cure, there is no reason why they'd waste it on an economic rival they despise. Corvo being back just makes things worse."

Angua arched an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"Don't ask." Vimes turned in his chair and glared off at the Patrician's palace. "I don't trust him. Don't ask me why, I just don't. There's more to him than a simple bodyguard." A snort exploded loose from him. "As if Vetinari, of all people, would NEED a bodyguard!"

"Sir, there's always something more to ANYTHING Vetinari's involved in." Angua's mouth twisted in a rare smile.

"Perhaps Lord Corvo is bodyguard to Vetinari's daughter." Carrot suggested.

"Gah."

"Mr. Vimes?" Carrot eyed the commander worriedly. "It can't be healthy to smash your head into the desk like that."

Vimes ignored the suggestion and slumped back in his chair. "Everytime I hear the word 'Vetinari' and 'daughter' in the same sentence, I... Gah."

"It can't really be good for the desk, either." Angua pointed out.

"YOU try going to the Patrician's palace and talking to him about the rat plague while his half-vampire baby girl is playing around the office." Vimes insisted. "The man's inhuman, he can't have a DAUGHTER."

"Evidence suggests otherwise." Angua murmured.

"Miss Emily is all Lord Vetinari has to remember her mother by." Carrot put in quietly.

A quiet solemnity fell over the office, broken only by the sound of Vimes slamming his head into the desk.

Finally Angua sighed. "Well," she said, with a valiant attempt at a smile, "At least we know-"

"Don't!" Vimes hand shot up, his head remained resting on the desk.

Angua stopped and blinked. "Sorry? I just was going to observe that at least..."

"Don't." Vimes head came up glaring. "Whatever you do, don't you dare say anything remotely resembling what you were thinking of saying."

"I just thought that the one bright spot in all this is..."

"Don't!"

"Oh, come now sir." Carrot smiled. "Let her say it. It's not like things can get any worse."

Someone rapped on the door.

Vimes groaned. "Hold that thought." He hissed. "Just hold that thought a little longer, would you? Come in." He said, loud enough for the person at the door to hear.

The door opened and Cheery Littlebottom stuck her head in the door. "Sorry sir, I know you said not to interrupt you unless it was important, but... well, this is."

Vimes forced himself to look at Cheery. "Very well. What is it?"

"It's the Patrician, sir." Cheery looked very pale. "He's... he's dead."

"Lord Vetinari is dead."

"I can see that, thanks." Vimes growled, glaring at the crime scene. Hells bells, when this got out the city was going to go crazy. More than it was already, anyway. "What I don't see is why you had to go and move everything here."

Lord Downey looked positively outraged. "The girl was missing! We had to assume he'd been stashed somewhere nearby, Corvo couldn't have taken her far. I apologize if we disturbed the self-evident scene of destruction while looking for a kidnapped girl, but at the moment we were more interested in saving a life than satisfying your suspicions."

Like hell they were. Downey was an assassin, for Io's sake, the HEAD of assassins. You didn't get that position by being interested in saving lives. Vimes didn't trust the man further than he could throw him. Scratch that, Vimes didn't trust the man at ALL.

Dimly, Vimes was aware that his anger was keeping his sense of unbelief in check. This could not be happening. It wasn't possible. Vetinari, of all people, assassinated? It'd been tried before, but never succeeded. Vetinari had been an assassin himself, he should have seen them coming. But somehow he'd been struck down, in broad daylight, in his own gardens, by his own personal bodyguard? It screamed against every instinct in Vimes' body.

So did every part of Lord Downey's story. Corvo, trusted bodyguard to the Patrician killed him, spirited away the daughter and somehow came back to the garden just in time for the guards to catch him with Vetinari's blood on his hands? None of it made any sense.

And yet the obvious alternative made no sense either. Assassin or no, DOWNEY couldn't have killed Vetinari. Vimes had head-butted the Assassin Guildmaster before, the man's killing days were long behind him. And no assassin under Downey could have done it either, not with Corvo standing there.

Corvo was, in fact, about the only person Vimes could realistically see killing the Patrician in a straight-up fight.

Vimes shook his head. "Sergeant Littlebottom and her men will have to go over this scene with a fine-tooth-comb." He informed Downey. "Captain Detritus will arrange a cordon around the palace to contain word of this as long as possible. And I want to talk with Corvo."

Lord Downey didn't even blink. "I'm afraid that's quite impossible."

"He still has a mouth, doesn't he?" Vimes sneered. "And ears?"

"Both are functioning well. But at the moment he is unconscious."

"Then get him down to the Watchhouse, and I'll grill him thoroughly once he wakes up." Vimes answered.

"Also not possible. Your cells at the Watchhouse are not secure enough." Lord Downey shook his head. "We'll keep him in the palace prisons here."

"Really." Vimes had been in the palace dungeons before, and did not have nearly as much confidence in their security as Downey seemed to have.

"Yes, really." Lord Downey unfurled a sheet of paper from his coat pocket. "And I'm afraid there's not much you can do about it, your Grace. Because, you see, by order of the High Council..." He showed the paper to Vimes. "...I am the new Patrician."

Damnit. thought Vimes, staring at the paper in helpless anger. I'm going to kill Carrot.