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Vetinari's eyes opened in the darkness. He lay in silence, listening until the outlines of his bedroom furniture became visible. He remained still, scanning for any difference in the shadows.
Something metallic dropped onto the floorboards. It sounded small and round. It rolled until it hit the opposite wall and spun for several seconds.
He retrieved a small knife from the bedframe and turned his attention to the dresser from whence the noise had come. There didn't appear to be anyone or anything there.
The furniture in the room was arranged to provide cover from a person looking in from the door. From the vantage of his bed, it should have been near impossible for a person to conceal themself. The window was undisturbed. He believed the door was still locked. It could hardly be unlocked from the outside without loudly damaging it in any case.
He sat slowly. Nothing moved in response. With great caution, he placed the knife onto his nightstand and pulled a small box of matches towards him. He struck one. Its meagre light revealed nothing. He lit the lamp. Everything appeared normal... at first.
There was a metallic scraping from the top of the dresser. He squinted towards it, then reached for his glasses. The scraping stopped. Vetinari put on his glasses and lay back down, staring towards the dresser. After a minute, the scraping resumed. It lasted until the edge of the dresser. Whatever was causing it dropped off and hit the floorboards. It bounced once, but it didn't roll this time. There was a glint of silver from a small object. He rose slowly, fixed on that point on the floor. He crept from bed, crouching as much as his leg would allow him to.
It was his guild ring. Its flat square face had prevented it from rolling. He looked across the room, there was no sign of the other object. He looked on top of the dresser. The silver band he wore on his smallest finger was no where to be seen. Given his guild ring appeared to have dropped itself onto the floor, the conclusion ought to have been that it had done the same and rolled across the room. Logically that situated it somewhere beneath the wardrobe.
How inconvenient.
Vetinari retrieved his signet ring before it too decided to throw itself off the dresser and stood slowly. He checked the door, all locks in place. He went to check the window, locked and closed with the shutters still in place.
There was a clatter behind him as he pulled the curtains closed again. He turned around to face it. His cane, that he had left propped neatly against the wall next to the door, had fallen over. He had not brushed against it. Besides that, it had fallen head first at an unusual angle rather than simply sliding out of place.
How odd.
"If it did not stand contrary to my usual course of logic," he said to the room calmly, "I might suggest these actions to be the work of some sort of poltergeist."
The wardrobe door opened itself.
"I see," he replied. "In that case, I must stress that disturbing my belongings while I am attempting to sleep is not the most optimal method of communicating with me."
The wardrobe door closed roughly. There was a rattling of glass. Vetinari winced.
"I will thank you not to break my mirror," he said sternly.
The rattling stopped.
"Thank you."
The lamp grew brighter.
"I will also ask that you do not touch the lamp."
The light dimmed again. He remembered placing the knife onto the nightstand.
"I will choose to doubt that you aim to harm me," he said. "Regardless, please leave the knife alone."
The locks on the door shook.
"You move quickly," Vetinari observed. "I should think there would be several people at the university who would find you quite intriguing."
The locks were shaken again.
"Am I to assume that you wish for me to let you out?"
Another shake, which he took as an affirmative.
"Then some patience, if you will."
He crossed the room, stepping over his fallen cane, and met resistance at his waist height. Vetinari took a step backwards.
"Excuse me, please," he said. "I will have to reach the door in order to open it."
The resistance vanished. He proceeded to the door.
"Thank you."
There was a knock on the side of the wardrobe. Vetinari glanced behind him.
"What is it that you are doing now?"
There was a metallic ping and the silver band ring shot out from beneath the wardrobe as if it had been flicked hard, stopping at the foot of the dresser.
"Thank you," Vetinari said. "I would have had a job retrieving that."
He unlocked the door and opened it cautiously, glancing up and down the dark corridor by habit. He felt a cold presence at his back. He stepped out of the way of the door.
"You are welcome," he said. "Might I suggest a more sociable hour if you are to visit me again?"
His cane was gently lifted from where it lay on the floor and positioned itself beneath his hand.
"Thank you," he said, taking it. "Now I suppose you will be on your way?"
The floorboard just outside of the room's threshold creaked. Vetinari waited a few moments before closing the door and locking it again.
It came as no real surprise. The palace was of course rumoured to be haunted, as most buildings that witnessed death were. The apparent presence of a tangible entity however worthed noting, he thought as he picked up his rings. He withdrew his journal from the nightstand drawer and made an addendum.
'Poltergeist? ' he wrote, 'Mild disruption. Responsive. Let out of room.'
How interesting.
Tiredness tugged at his eyelids, and Vetinari found himself containing a yawn. He returned his journal to the drawer, and removed his glasses before getting back into bed. He returned the small knife to its place, and put out the lamp. He stared at the shadowy ceiling for a few moments, then turned in towards the wall and drifted easily into sleep.
In the space between conscious thought and dreams, a long missed weight took its place near his feet, and an absent tail wagged gently.