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Moist von Lipwig was not generally, no matter how he presented himself to the world, a very nice or diligent man.[1] He was, however, an excellent climber. If he might say so himself, he was also very handy with a set of lockpicks (those were only illegal from a geographical angle[2]). Which was exactly why he was currently scaling the patrician‘s palace, a feat most of the night-climbing society of Ankh-Morpork considered to be the mark of exceptional talent.
The windows of the palace were mostly dark and that, too, was important: He simply could not risk discovery. It being Hogswatch night, he could imagine most people sitting at home, warm, comfortable, possibly in front of a fire. He carefully placed his foot on the ledge of one of the balconies and stretched his arms to reach for the next bump in the wall when suddenly -
„Ah – Mr. Lipwig.“
The patrician stepped out of the shadows.
„I think you will find that Drumknott‘s office is not to the left, try the second window to the right.“
Havelock Vetinari arched an eyebrow. Damn, Moist thought. But because he had some sense, he only blinked at the patrician. Only very few people[3] had such an effect on him. And because it had not been clear enough the first time, he allowed himself another silent damn. Well, he was doing nothing wrong, was he? His current location might not be in his favor but he hadn’t actually broken any laws.[4] Yet.
“Don’t let me detain you,” the patrician drawled and gestured upwards.
Moist hastened to follow the patrician’s direction and didn’t even mind too much that he hadn’t been able to get any word in. Soon enough he found himself in front of another set of windows. He gently slipped one of his more – ahem – technically and geographically illegal instruments between the window and the lintel. A few tugs and the window opened quietly. He slipped through and righted his tool belt while he looked around. The interior was so dull, it made his head hurt.[5]
He rummaged inside his pockets for a bit until he found what he was looking for and carefully placed it in a clearly labeled in-tray. Then he sighed, somewhat put upon by all of … this, and left the room the way he had entered.
In the in-tray, a set of new and very expensive pens glinted in the moonlight.[6]
[1]One might argue that he was able to maintain both the post office and the banking system by dint of hard work. Sure, he maintained friendly relations but that was easy. But surely all these circumstances could only mean that he was on top of his game, couldn‘t it? He was simply playing a long-con and the chain of gold-ish was… oh RATS.
[2] The angle, of course, being that he would be in great trouble if the Watch ever found them geographically located - so to speak - in his trouser pockets.
[3] Adora Belle Dearhart.
[4] Sam Vimes would definitely disagree.
[5] Although a lot of things did that these days.
[6] Moist was still quite sure that he was not, technically, a nice person.