Jingo. Part 53

And Vimes thought: I nearly didn't come. I nearly stayed in Ankh-Morpork I nearly didn't come. I nearly stayed in Ankh-Morpork.

He had always wondered how Old Stoneface had felt, that frosty morning when he picked up the axe that had no legal blessing because the King wouldn't recognize a court even if a jury could be found, that frosty morning when he prepared to sever what people thought was a link between men and deity- "...beep...Things To Do Today Today Today: Die..."

The sensation flowed into his veins like fresh warm blood. It was the feeling that you got when the law ran out, and you looked into a mocking face on the other side of it and you decided that you couldn't go on living if you did not step over the line and do one clean thing- There was shouting outside. He blinked away the sweat.

"Ah...Commander Vimes..." said a voice somewhere back over the border.

He kept his aching gaze sighted along the bow. "Yes?"

A hand darted down and grabbed the arrow out of its groove. Vimes blinked. His finger automatically squeezed the trigger. The string slamed back with a thunk thunk. And the look on the Prince's face, he knew, would keep him warm on cold nights, if there were ever cold nights again.

He'd heard them all die. But they weren't weren't dead. And yet the d.a.m.n thing had sounded so...accurate... dead. And yet the d.a.m.n thing had sounded so...accurate...

Lord Vetinari dropped the arrow fastidiously, like a society lady who has had to handle something sticky.

"Well done, Vimes. I see you've got the donkey up the minaret. Good morning, gentlemen." He gave the company a happy smile. "I see I am not too late."

"Vetinari?" said Rust, seeming to wake up. "What are you doing here? This is a battlefield-"

"I wonder." The Patrician gave him a very brief smile of his very own. "Outside there seem to be a lot of men sitting around. Many of them seem to be having what I believe is known in military parlance as a brew-up. And Captain Carrot is organizing a football match."

"He's what what?" said Vimes, lowering the bow. Suddenly the world had to be real again. If Carrot was doing something as dumb as that, things were normal.

"Quite a large number of fouls so far, I'm afraid. But I wouldn't call it a battlefield."

"Who's winning?"

"Ankh-Morpork, I believe. By two hacked shins and a broken nose."

For the first time in ages Vimes felt a little pang of patriotism. Everything else in life was in the privy, but when it came to gouging and kicking he knew which side he was on.

"Besides," Vetinari went on, "I believe quite a large number of people are technically under arrest. And clearly a state of war is not, in practical fact, in being. It is merely a state of football. Therefore, I believe, I am, shall we say...back. Excuse me, sire, but this won't take a moment."

He held up a metal cylinder and began to unscrew the end.

For some reason Vimes felt inclined to take a few steps away from it. "What's that?"

"I thought this might become necessary," said Vetinari. "It took some preparation, but I am certain it will work. I hope they're readable. We did our best to keep the damp off them."

A thick roll of paper dropped out on to the floor.

"Commander, have you nothing you should be doing?" he added. "Refereeing, perhaps?"

Vimes picked up the roll and read the first few lines.

"Whereas...heretofore, etc., etc.... City of Ankh-Morpork...Surrender?"

"What?" said Rust and the Prince together.

"Yes, surrender," said Vetinari cheerfully. "A little piece of paper and it's all over. I think you'll find it all in order."

"You can't-" Rust began.

"You can't-" said the Prince.

"Unconditionally?" said General Ashal sharply.

"Yes, I think so," said Vetinari. "We give up all claim to Leshp in favor of Klatch, we withdraw all troops from Klatch and our citizens from the island, and as for reparations...shall we say a quarter of a million dollars? Plus various favorable trade arrangements, most-favored nation status and so on and so on. It's all here. Feel free to read it at your leisure."

He pa.s.sed the doc.u.ment over the head of the Prince and into the hands of the general, who flicked through the pages.

"But we haven't got got-" Vimes began. Perhaps I did did get killed, he thought. I'm on the other side, or someone hit me very hard on the head and this is all some kind of mirage- get killed, he thought. I'm on the other side, or someone hit me very hard on the head and this is all some kind of mirage- "It's a forgery!" snapped the Prince. "It's a trick!"

"Well, sire, this man certainly does appear to be Lord Vetinari and these do seem to be the official seals of Ankh-Morpork," said the general. "'Whereas...whereby...without prejudice...ratification within four days...way of trade'...yes, this does, I have to say, look genuine."

"I won't accept it!"

"I see, sire. It does, though, appear to cover all the points which in your speech last week you-"

"I certainly certainly wouldn't accept it!" Rust shouted. He waved a finger under Vetinari's nose. "You'll be banished for this!" wouldn't accept it!" Rust shouted. He waved a finger under Vetinari's nose. "You'll be banished for this!"

But we haven't got got that money, Vimes repeated, but this time to himself. We're a very rich city, but we haven't got any actual money. The wealth of Ankh-Morpork is in its people, we're told. And you couldn't remove it with big pliers. that money, Vimes repeated, but this time to himself. We're a very rich city, but we haven't got any actual money. The wealth of Ankh-Morpork is in its people, we're told. And you couldn't remove it with big pliers.

He felt the wind change.

And Vetinari watching him.

And there was something about General Ashal. A certain hunger...

"I agree with Rust," he said. "This is dragging the good name of Ankh-Morpork in the mud." To his mild surprise he managed to say that without smiling.

"We lose nothing, sire," General Ashal insisted. "They withdraw from Klatch and Leshp-"

"d.a.m.ned if we will!" screamed Lord Rust.

"Right! And have everyone know we've been beaten beaten?" said Vimes. "Outwitted?"

He looked at the Prince, whose gaze was hunting from man to man, but occasionally staring at nothing, as if he was watching some inner vision.

"A quarter of a million is not enough," the Prince said.

Lord Vetinari shrugged. "We can discuss it."

"There is much that I need to buy."

"Things of a sharp metallic nature, no doubt," said Vetinari. "Of course, if we are talking about goods rather than money, there is room for...flexibility..."

And now we're going to arm him, too, Vimes thought.

"You'll be out of the city in a week!" Rust screamed.

Vimes thought the general smiled briefly. Ankh-Morpork without Vetinari...ruled by people like Rust. His future was looking bright indeed.

"The surrender will will need to be ratified and formally witnessed, however," said Ashal. need to be ratified and formally witnessed, however," said Ashal.

"May I suggest Ankh-Morpork?" said Lord Vetinari.

"No. On neutral territory, of course," said the general.

"But where, between Ankh-Morpork and Klatch, is there such a thing?" said Vetinari.

"I suppose...there is Leshp," said the general thoughtfully.

"What a good idea," said the Patrician. "That would not have occurred to me."

"The place is ours anyway!" snapped the Prince.

"Will be, sire. Will be," said the general soothingly. "We will take possession. Quite legally. While the world watches." be, sire. Will be," said the general soothingly. "We will take possession. Quite legally. While the world watches."

"And that's it? What about my arrest?" said Vimes. "I'm not going to-"

"These are matters of state," said Vetinari. "And there are...diplomatic considerations. I am afraid the good ordering of international affairs cannot hinge upon your concerns over the doings of one man."

Once again Vimes felt that the words he was hearing were not the words that were being said.

"I won't-" he began.

"There are larger issues here."

"But-"

"Sterling work, nevertheless."

"There are big crimes and little crimes, is that it?" said Vimes.

"Why don't you take some well-earned rest, Sir Samuel? You are," Vetinari flashed one of his lightning-fast smiles, "a man of action. You deal in swords, and chases, and facts. Now, alas, it is the time for the men of words, who deal in promises and mistrust and opinions. For you the war is over. Enjoy the sunshine. I trust we shall all be returning home shortly. I would like you to stay, Lord Rust..."

Vimes realized that he'd been switched off. He spun round and marched out of the tent.

Ahmed followed him. "That's your master, is it?"

"No! He's just the man who pays my wages!"

"Often hard to know the difference," said Ahmed sympathetically.

Vimes sat down on the sand. He wasn't certain how he'd been managing to stand up. There was some kind of a future now. He hadn't the faintest idea what was in it, but there was was one. There hadn't been one five minutes ago. He wanted to talk now. That way, he didn't have to think about the Dis-organizer's death roll. It had sounded so... one. There hadn't been one five minutes ago. He wanted to talk now. That way, he didn't have to think about the Dis-organizer's death roll. It had sounded so...accurate...

"What's going to happen to you?" he said, to drive the thought out of his mind. "When this is over, I mean. Your Your boss isn't going to be pleased with you." boss isn't going to be pleased with you."

"Oh, the desert can swallow me."

"He'll send people after you. He looks the type."

"The desert will swallow them."

"Without chewing?"

"Believe it."

"It shouldn't have to be like this!" Vimes shouted, at the sky in general. "You know? Sometimes I dream dream that we could deal with the big crimes, that we could make a law for countries and not just for people, and people like him would have-" that we could deal with the big crimes, that we could make a law for countries and not just for people, and people like him would have-"

Ahmed pulled him upright and patted him on the shoulder.

"I know how it is," he said. "I dream, too."

"You do?"

"Yes. Generally of fish."

There was a roar from the crowd.

"Someone's scored a convincing foul, by the sound of it," said Vimes.

They slid and staggered up the side of a dune, and watched.

Someone broke from the scrum and, punching and kicking, staggered toward the Klatchian goal.

"Isn't that man your butler?" said Ahmed.

"Yes."

"One of your soldiers said he bit a man's nose off."

Vimes shrugged. "He's got a very pointed look if I don't use the sugar tongs, I know that."

A white figure marched authoritatively through the mill of players, blowing a whistle.

"And that man, I believe, is your king."

"No."

"Really? Then I am Queen Punjitrum of Sumtri."

"Carrot's a copper, same as me."

"A man like that could inspire a handful of broken men to conquer a country."

"Fine. Just so long as he does it on his day off."