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Vimes said nothing, but he thought, the ball dropped.
Vetinari glared at him and said, “I have here an eloquent missive from Lord Rust senior, pleading for the life of, if not the freedom of, his son, who he fully admits has trodden the family honor into the mud.” Lord Vetinari held up a hand. “His Lordship is an old man and so, Vimes, if your next remark was going to be something on the lines of ‘even further’ then I suggest you deploy a little charity. His lordship is anxious to avoid a scandal. Apart from that, may I have your views?”
“Yes. The scandal has already taken place, sir, more than once,” said Vimes coldly. “He trafficked in living, breathing and thinking people. Many of them died!”
“Once again, Vimes, I have to tell you that laws cannot be made retrospectively.”
“That may be so,” said Vimes, “but what about the troll kids, who took that damn rubbish? Are you going to ask the Diamond King if they should be retrospective?”
“I can assure you, Vimes, that the laws will be upheld, and since you ask, right now I am having to negotiate with the King who is demanding, demanding of me—me, Vimes—that young Lord Rust be handed over for questioning regarding the manufacture and distribution of absolutely deadly troll narcotics. Of course, under troll law the wretched man would be put to death, and I am saddened to say that at this moment in the complex world of human, troll and dwarven politics, I feel that that might have some long-term repercussions, making it an unfortunate option for this city. I have to negotiate this problem, and, believe me, it’s going to take a lot of quid for the pro quo. And it’s only nine thirty in the morning!”
Vimes’s knuckles reddened. “They are living creatures who can talk and think and have songs and names, and he treated them like some kind of disposable tools.”
“Indeed, Vimes, but, as I have indicated, goblins have always been considered a kind of vermin. However, Ankh-Morpork, the kingdom of the Low King and also that of the Diamond King, Uberwald, Lancre and all the independent cities of the plain are passing a law to the effect that goblins will henceforth be considered as sapient beings, equal to, if not the same as, trolls and dwarfs and humans and werewolves, et cetera et cetera, answerable to what we have agreed to call ‘the common law’ and also protected by it. That means killing one would be a capital crime. You have won, commander, you have won. Because of a song, commander. Oh, and of course other efforts, but it was your wife who got most of the ambassadors to her little amusement which, I may say, Vimes, was eloquence personified. Though frankly, Vimes, I find myself shamed. One spends one’s life scheming, negotiating, giving and taking and greasing such wheels as squeak, and in general doing one’s best to stop this battered old world from exploding into pieces. And now, because of a piece of music, Vimes, a piece of music, some very powerful states have agreed to work together to heal the problems of another autonomous state and, almost as collateral, turn some animals into people at a stroke. Can you imagine that, Vimes? In what world could that possibly happen? All because of a song at twilight, Vimes. All because of a song. It was a thing of strangely tinkling tones and unbelievable cadences which somehow found its way into our souls, reminding some of us that we have some. Lady Sybil is worth a dozen diplomats. You are a lucky man, commander.”
Vimes opened his mouth to speak, but Vetinari interrupted. “And also a bloody fool, a bloody, headstrong fool. The law must start with a crime? I understand, but don’t condone.” Vetinari picked the letter off his desk. “Lord Rust asks that his son be given a moderately short sentence, subsequent to which he be allowed to emigrate to Fourecks, to start a new life. Since the man was deeply involved in smuggling the fine will be harsh.”
He held up a hand. “No, hear me out; after all, I am the tyrant in this vicinity.” Vetinari slumped into his chair, wiped his brow and said, “And I have already lost my temper with an otherwise inoffensive sweet lady who compiles crossword puzzles for the Times. However, Vimes, Lord Rust refers to you as a man of honor and probity and astonishing integrity and vigilance. Moreover, he is disinheriting his son, which means upon his death his title will devolve to his daughter Regina, a ferocious woman, very difficult and hot-headed. And that, Vimes, creates another problem for me. His lordship is extremely frail and, frankly, I was looking forward to dealing with the son, who is an ignorant, arrogant, pompous idiot, but his sister? She is smart!” and then, almost to himself, Lord Vetinari added, “But at least she doesn’t compile crosswords…Now you can speak, commander.”
“There was a murder,” said Vimes sullenly.
Vetinari sighed hugely. “No, Vimes! There was a slaughter! Do you not understand? At that point goblins were vermin and no, do not shout at me! At this very moment in palaces and chancelleries all over the world goblins are becoming as human as you or I, but that was then. I would like you to be fully aware that the reason that Stratford would have gone to the tender mercies of Mr. Trooper is that he and his ruffians boarded the Enormous Fanny— Yes, what is it?”
Vetinari looked around as Drumknott tapped him on the shoulder. There was a muffled whispering before Vetinari cleared his throat and said, “Of course, I meant the Wonderful Fanny,” and he did not exactly meet Vimes’s gaze as he continued. “That was an act of piracy and the good people of Quirm, where the…boat in question was registered, are all in favor of the death penalty for that kind of thing. I am aware of his manifold other crimes but, alas, you can only hang a man once…Although, as it turned out, apparently Mr. Stratford was mortally wounded in a collision three nights ago, being thrown some distance from the wreckage with a surgically cut throat. Convenient, don’t you think?”
“Don’t you dare look at me like that, sir.”
“Heavens, I wouldn’t accuse you, commander, I was just wondering if you knew of any other person with a grudge against the corpse?”
“Nossir,” said Vimes, pulling himself to attention.
“You know, Vimes, sometimes your expression becomes so wooden that I think I could make a table out of it. Just tell me this: did you give any instructions?”
How does he do it? thought Vimes. How? Out loud he said, “I don’t know what you are talking about, sir, but if what I suspect to be true is so, then the answer is no. If there was any foul play that night it wasn’t by my order. I wanted to see Stratford on the gallows. That’s legal.” And he thought, I am never going to broach the subject with Willikins.
Vetinari’s eyebrows rose as Vimes went on, “But his lordship’s wretched son is being allowed to go on a long holiday full of sun, sea, surf and sand and economically priced wines!” He slammed his fist on the desk and Vetinari looked pointedly at it until Vimes took it away. “Are you going to leave it at that?”
“It has been known, as people put it, for the leopard to change its shorts. All of us hope for a little redemption, whether if we deserve it or not. We will keep an eye on the young fool, you can be certain of that.”
“Oh, you’re sending the Dark Clerks after him?”
“Vimes, the Dark Clerks are a myth, as everybody knows. To tell you the truth, some flunkey from our embassy down there will pay attention to his progress. And now the world is a better place, commander. You have no understanding, Vimes, no understanding at all of the deals, stratagems and unseen expedients by which some of us make shift to see that it remains that way. Do not seek perfection. None exists. All we can do is strive. Understand this, commander,
because from where I sit you have no alternative. And remember, for this week’s work you will be remembered. Lord Rust may not like it but news travels fast. The truth will be known and written down in the history books.” Vetinari gave a wan smile. “It will, I shall see to it. And, slightly better than before, the world will continue to turn.”
Vetinari picked up yet another piece of paper, appearing to glance at it, and said, “You may go, commander, in the knowledge that I, for so many reasons, envy you. My regards to your good lady.”
Vimes looked at Drumknott. The man’s face so assiduously betrayed nothing that it betrayed everything.
Vetinari pulled a file toward him and picked up his pen. “Don’t let me detain you, commander.”
An hour later Lord Vetinari was sitting at his desk with his fingers steepled, apparently lost in thought, staring at the ceiling, and, to Drumknott’s surprise, occasionally waving his hand as if conducting some hidden music. Drumknott knew enough not to disturb him, but at last he dared to say, “It was a most memorable recital, wasn’t it, sir?”
Vetinari ceased being the invisible conductor and said, brightly, “Yes, it was, wasn’t it? They say that the eyes of some paintings can follow you around the room, a fact that I doubt, but I am wondering whether some music can follow you for ever.” He appeared to pull himself together and continued, “On the whole, the Rust dynasty, though not exactly empowered with brains, tends to be an honorable and patriotic bunch, by and large, am I not right, Drumknott?”
Drumknott meticulously and unnecessarily tidied some paperwork and said, “It is indeed so. Young Gravid is a regrettable exception.”
“Do you think him beyond redemption?” said Vetinari.
