Somewhere in the multiverse, a turtle is hurtling through space. It is also travelling through the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh dimensions, but the inhabitants of the world atop the turtle are mostly aware of the first three. Beyond these, it is the fourth dimension – time – which most fascinates the common man: he knows it, but cannot control it. To control time is the privilege of the uncommon man.

Sam Vimes stared down at Vetinari's body. He needed a stiff lemonade. The patrician had been murdered: this was a crime scene. What he needed was his notebook. Why could he never find things when he needed them?

"Bingeldy-bingeldy-beep," said the imp in his pocket. "You have an appointment, Insert-Name-Here."

"What?" snapped Vimes.

"Kill leader of city," said the imp.

"Vetinari's already dead," said Vimes dully, "and that's incriminating evidence. Who told you to say that?"

"It's a repeating event in my memory."

Corporal Nobby Nobbs sauntered into the patrician's office. He saw the patrician's body and paused. Something unpleasant (1) dangled from the foot he had forgotten to put down.

"Cor, sir, you've killed him. Just like ol' Stoneface and the king."

Vimes sighed. "No, Nobby, Lord Vetinari's not the king – or rather, wasn't the king," he corrected himself, "and, in fact, I did not kill him."

"Are you sure about that? It does look that way, what with you standing over his Lordship's dead body."

Vimes spoke through gritted teeth. "I did not kill him. Only an idiot would kill the patrician."

"There is an historical precedence. How are we to know it isn't in your blood or somethin'?"

"Nobby – "

"There's no call to look at me like that, sir. I haven't nicked anything of yours in nearly a month!"

"Shouldn't you be on duty somewhere, Nobby?"

"No, see, old Fred – Sarge Colon that is – he said – " Nobby broke off and caught Vimes' eye. "What I mean is, I'm on my way out, sir." The little man(2) saluted and scuttled out of the room.

"He has a point, you know," said the imp.

"Don't you start now." Vimes glared at the creature.

"Well, it had to get into my memory somehow. A recurring event, mind you."

"I did not kill the patrician," Vimes repeated, "No matter how many recurring events have been set in your memory." He was fairly certain he hadn't murdered Lord Vetinari – after all, historical precedent pointed to it(3) – but the trouble would be proving it.

Certain people live in the nicer houses, drink the finer wines and dress in the more stylish suits. As such a man, Elisabeth's father had naturally found his way to a simple – if costly – home on the Ankh side of the Ankh River.

"Have you put out the candles, Elisabeth?"

"Yes, Father. The total darkness is quite inconvenient, you know."

"It doesn't worry me, my dear, and darkness does seem more appropriate, doesn't it?"

"As you will, Father. The candles are out." Elisabeth moved to draw the blinds and lock the door. "Are you expecting company, Father?"

"I am. He won't need the door(4) . Are you sure it's completely dark?"

"HOW UNUSUAL." Death inspected the hourglass. Each grain of sand had frozen in its place, some halted in midair.

"I believe that's mine," said Havelock Vetinari quietly.

"I AM THE KEEPER OF LIVES."

"Indeed. I, however, am – or, until recently, was – a liver of one."

"YOU ARE NOT DEAD," said Death.

"I have been killed," replied Lord Vetinari, "Which means, I believe, that I am your responsibility."

"NO. IT IS MY RESPONSIBILITY TO END LIVES. YOURS HAS NOT YET RUN OUT." Death gestured to the hourglass. "YOU MIGHT SAY THAT IT'S BEEN SUSPENDED."

"Ah. You are no doubt about to explain why you are here in spite of this."

"YOU ARE CORRECT. IT SEEMS THAT SUSPENDED TIME WILL SUIT A SUSPENDED LIFE BEST. I AM INVITING YOU TO MY HOME. ALBERT WILL BE GLAD OF THE COMPANY."

"As I have nothing else to do, I shall accept your invitation. I look forward to making Albert's acquaintance."

"COME THIS WAY," said Death.

1 Nobby had fallen onto the Ankh River earlier that month.

2 He had papers to prove it.

3 With both hands.

4 More remarkably, he wouldn't need the doorway.

A/N: Thanks to Virtuella for beta-reading. All remaining errors are entirely mine etc. etc.