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The irregular clock ticked and ticked and… ticked. Five o’ clock had long gone by and Vimes started to feel nervous. The last time he had been kept waiting for an appointment, Vetinari had been spending his time unconscious on his office floor. If Vimes had remained idle back then, there might not have been an appointment today. He was not going to let it go that far again. But just as he got up to investigate, Drumknott startled him with a polite cough. That man could have been an assassin, the way you simply didn’t notice him until he made you to.
‘I’m ever so sorry, your grace, but I’m afraid we must reschedule your appointment. His lordship is… indisposed.’
‘Indisposed?’ Vimes hesitated. The last time Vetinari had been indisposed, Vimes had carried a limp body in his arms, afraid that he had come too late. ‘He isn’t ill, is he?’
‘He feels slightly under the weather.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘His lordship insists on not being disturbed. He was very clear on that.’ Drumknott quickly glanced over his shoulder as if to check whether they were still alone. ‘Commander, did I hear you say that you would like a cigar?’
‘Did you?’
‘I must remind you, of course, of Lord Vetinari’s no-smoking policy within the palace building, but I can recommend the part of the gardens near the southern gate, where the rhododendron grows. Quite lovely and peaceful. The perfect place for a smoke break.’
‘Is it?’
‘Indeed. Take this, too, sir. Tea. It is getting cold outside, after all.’
Drumknott offered a flask to Vimes, that was wrapped in leather to keep the heat in, and scurried of before any more questions could be asked.
There was indeed a chill in the air as winter was fast approaching. Vimes was wearing a scarf, an event that the weatherman of the Ankh-Morpork Times had once pronounced ‘a sure-fire way of knowing when to get ready for frostbite’, though Vimes found that getting older, he took out the scarf earlier and earlier in the year. The ground wasn’t even frozen yet.
What the heck had Drumknott been talking about? Rhododendron, rhododendron… Did Vimes look like the kind of person who knew what a rhododendron was? Especially when naked twigs looked all the same anyway. Rhododendron…
He was about to give up and return to the Yard, where a nice, warm fire would be roaring in the hearth, when he stumbled upon a black-robed figure between the bushes, hidden from view unless you were looking for it. The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork had his back turned to Vimes and did not indicate in any way that he had noticed his arrival. Vimes furrowed his brow. It wasn’t like Vetinari to just stand around between bushes. Had he finally gone mad? All the Patricians had, sooner or later. Was that what Durmknott had meant by under the weather?
Vetinari simply stood there as tall and unmoving as a statue. Only after Vimes had tiptoed a bit closer he recognised what he was fixing his gaze on: a little patch of earth, freshly dug up, a dog biscuit carefully placed upon it.
Ah.
Wuffles.
Well, he had been old.
Vimes fell back a few steps, took out a cigar, and said nothing. Vetinari had cared for that little drooling, four-legged bugger. Most people wouldn’t think that he was able to grieve, but that was patently false. So false even, that Drumknott, apparently, worried.
‘Has my traitorous secretary sent you, commander?’
Vetinari kept his back turned to Vimes as he spoke, and his gaze fixed upon the little grave. His voice, Vimes found, lacked its usual spirit.
‘Don’t know who you mean by that, sir. Simply fancied a smoke. Don’t you let me disturb you.’
‘You can turn back and tell Drumknott that I do not require supervision.’
‘No idea what you’re on about, sir, but as you well know I can’t have my cigar inside the palace. Good old Drumknott even gave me some hot tea to take with me on account of the dreadful weather. Want some?’
‘No.’
‘More for me, then.’
Well, some things couldn’t be rushed. Vimes settled in with his cigar, thankful for the tea. In tried and tested fashion, he drew his shoulders up and his head in. It wasn’t quite the same without the breast plate and the helmet, but it helped against the humidity and cold that crept under his jacket faster than he had hoped. Vetinari, on the other hand, didn’t move, as if the weather didn’t bother him at all. He has always been good at pretending, Vimes reminded himself. Drumknott wouldn’t have sent me down here if he didn’t genuinely worry.
Vimes did his best to smoke slowly, but he was already half-way through his second cigar and a fair bit of the flask of tea, when Vetinari spoke again, though he still did not turn around.
‘Are you still there, Vimes?’
‘I am, sir. Fancied another smoke. It’s a bad habit, but it’s better than the whiskey.’
Vetinari went silent again for a moment.
‘Is the tea still there?’
‘It is, sir, and still reasonably hot.’
Vimes made his way over to the grave, hoping that it wouldn’t earn him a stiletto between the ribs. Even though he was rather confident it wouldn’t, you never quite knew with Vetinari. He passed him the flask, and Vetinari, instead of taking a swig, just clasped both hands around it. His skin was whiter than usual from the cold. When he fumbled to take the leather wrap off the flask, it became obvious how stiff his usually nimble fingers were. Vimes almost believed he heard a sigh when Vetinari had finally managed to remove it, so his hands touched the hot metal underneath unhindered. All the while he kept his gaze fixed on the little grave.
‘How long have you been out here, sir?’
‘A while.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you, commander.’
Standing so close, Vimes could see the muscles of Vetinari’s jaw working. His whole body was tense, whether with cold or held-back grief, or both, who knew?
‘Take this, sir.’
Vimes unwound the scarf from his neck and offered it to Vetinari, who tore his eyes away from the grave. For a long while he stared at the scarf instead. Vimes knew that he wanted to decline, because of course he did, but he kept offering. Finally, Vetinari gave in. With one hand he draped it around his shoulders. His gaze wandered back to the grave, as if he had become unable to look anywhere else.
‘You know, Vimes…’ Vetinari still didn’t turn his head. ‘My father never liked dogs. Detested them, even. As a young man I aspired to become like him and I thoroughly convinced myself that I, too, hated dogs. Maybe a certain nickname also had something to do with it. It took me about fifty years of my life to realise that I enjoyed the company of a four-legged companion. Isn’t it strange, Vimes, how little we sometimes know ourselves?’
‘Takes a whole life to get to know yourself, is what my mother always said, sir.’
‘A wise woman.’
‘Only she died young and never got to know much of herself at all.’
‘Ah. I’m sorry, Vimes.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
The hands around the flask started to shake ever so slightly.
‘You’re catching a cold. Come inside.’
‘I think not. But please, commander, don’t let me detain you.’
He said it without conviction, without edge, just going through the motions of being in control. Drumknott was clearly right to be worried.
‘I’m not going anywhere, sir.’
‘You know, commander, being a tyrant is not what it used to be. People don’t just blindly obey anymore.’
Vimes lowered his gaze and smiled to himself. ‘Yeah, I wonder who caused that.’
‘That’s what a prince gets for encouraging people, Sir Samuel, mark my words.’
‘Duly marked, sir.’
Vetinari’s hands, still clasped around the flask, were visibly shaking by now. He had to be freezing. How long had he been out here? Must have been hours and hours from the look of it. Oh, what the hell, Vimes caught himself thinking, right before he wrapped his own hands around Vetinari’s.
For the first time since he stepped out into the garden, Vetinari looked him in the eyes. And for the first time ever since he had known him, he looked truly surprised. Vimes expected him to shake him off, to raise an eyebrow at him, even the stiletto between the ribs came to mind. But Vetinari did none of these things. He just stood there and let Vimes warm his hands that felt cold as ice against his palms.
The surprised stare softened, Vetinari’s eyelids fluttered. He quickly lowered his head and turned his face away. But it was too late: Vimes had seen the tears glistening in his eyes. He let go of Vetinari’s hands to catch his elbows and gently pull him into his chest. Gods, he was cold. Vimes wrapped his arms around him to warm him up, but Vetinari’s shoulders were still shaking as he rested against Vimes’ chest, allowing him to hold him and rub soothing circles across his back. The last time Vetinari had allowed Vimes to hold him, he had been poisoned and barely conscious. But that was grief, wasn’t it? Poison for the soul.
‘Please come inside,’ Vimes mumbled.
As if the words had broken a spell, Vetinari stepped back from him and straightened his shoulders. If it hadn’t been for his red-rimmed eyes, he wouldn’t have looked any different than usual. His gaze wandered back to Wuffles’ grave once more.
‘You will think me ridiculous, Vimes, but I am unable to leave him out here alone. It feels disloyal.’
‘I’m fairly certain that he wouldn’t want you to suffer for him. After all, a dog’s job is to protect his master, not to bring him harm.’ Vimes rubbed his neck awkwardly. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this… ‘You know. Speaking as your dog myself.’
A bewildered sort of amusement hushed over Vetinari’s face, bringing some life back into it. ‘That is true, I suppose. If you see it that way.’
Vimes held out his hand. ‘Come on, sir. I have a duty to Wuffles, as one dog to another. Don’t make me disappoint him.’
‘I think you are stretching that metaphor, commander.’ Vetinari turned back to look at the grave once more, then sighed. ‘Alright, then.’ He retrieved his cane, which was leaning against a near-by tree, and slowly walked past Vimes in the direction of the palace. Vimes followed, as loyal dogs usually did.
Drumknott showed relief clearly on his face when he met them on the stairs. ‘Glad to see you back, sir. There’s a fire going in your room.’
‘Very thoughtful of you, Drumknott.’
‘Sir.’
‘As was sending out… the tea.’
Drumknott’s face reddened. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.’
‘But of course. On you go.’
‘Sir.’ Drumknott shot Vimes a thankful glance before he hurried away.
Vimes wasn’t even sure why he was following him, seeing as Lord Vetinari was clearly able to reach his bedroom all by himself. He still did, though he halted at the threshold. He hadn’t been in here since the poisoning, since he had almost lost him…
‘In or out, Vimes. Ironically enough, you’re letting the cold in.’
He pulled himself together and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
He had almost died. Someone had gotten past his guard, and Vetinari had almost died.
‘Will you be alright, sir?’
‘Eventually.’ Vetinari raised his hands to Vimes’ scarf around his neck as if he intended to unwind it, but then he didn’t. Reluctantly, he put his hands down again. ‘You can stay, commander, if you like.’
‘Are you sure? You wouldn’t even let me stay when you were poisoned.’
‘Things change. That’s the way of the world.’
‘You feel lonely.’
Vimes hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but Vetinari didn’t seem to mind. Gracefully he cocked his head.
‘Well, yes, to put it bluntly. As opposed to public opinion, I’m but a man – an old man at that – who has just lost his dog.’ He shot Vimes a glance. ‘And please, Sir Samuel, do not overextend that metaphor again. Let me just say that I would appreciate your company tonight.’
‘Certainly, sir. I’ll just curl up in front of the fire.’
Vetinari raised an eyebrow. ‘What did I just say, commander?’
‘Will shut up now, sir.’
‘Good. Though dog or not, near the fire does seem like the best place to be.’
With the help of his cane, Vetinari sank down on the fur rug in front of the hearth, and Vimes joined him, relishing in the heat. He almost jumped, when Vetinari leaned against him, but was thankfully able to restrain himself. The Patrician had never before accepted his help so readily or had even asked for it. So Vimes wrapped his arm around him and pulled him close, as the fire slowly chased the cold from their old bones.
‘Just one last thing about dogs, sir.’
Vetinari sighed, but it sounded more comfortable than annoyed. ‘Go ahead, Vimes, if you must.’
‘They’ll always be at your side when you call, sir, no questions asked. It’s good to remember that.’
‘Ah, yes. Their loyalty has to be admired, don’t you think?’
‘Don’t know, sir. It’s simply what they are.’
‘Though I’m not sure that they never question you.’ Vetinari looked up at Vimes and gave him a tired smile. ‘They do have their opinions.’
‘Well, maybe, but they’ll be by your side anyways, and that’s the point.’
‘Indeed. We’re lucky to have them.’
He closed his eyes and rested his head on Vimes’ shoulder.
‘Yes, sir,’ Vimes muttered and pulled him closer. ‘Lucky indeed.’
