A Room Vith A View
Ch. 4

It'll end in trouble, my lord,' said Ridcully. He'd found it a good
general comment in practically any debate. Besides, it was so often
true.
Lord Vetinari sighed. "In my experience, practically everything does,"
he said. "That is the nature of things. All we can do is sing as we
go."
--The Truth
Lady Margolotta didn't have a bed. She had a coffin. It was a nicely-
padded coffin with the finest silk lining that money could buy, but it
was still a coffin, and it gave Havelock nerves. So they'd agreed that
he ought to stay in the high guest room, although he took the lock off
the window and unbarred the secret entrance. Margolotta still came in
that way, for the look of the thing, but it was acknowledged that this
wasn't, strictly speaking, necessary.

Now he lay, staring up at the terrifyingly fancy canopy, arms behind
his head, once again...thinking.

Margolotta had asked him about that. She'd caught him staring off into
space, waiting for her to make a move in the chess game that'd been
going on for three days now, between meals and other activities. She'd
asked him why he spent so much time inside his own head. Because there
was so much to think about, he'd answered, and she'd seemed satisfied.

He hadn't been. Of all the questions she'd asked him -- both as student
and teacher -- in the days since his companions left for Bonk, that one
bothered him the most. Obviously not everyone thought like him. As far
as he could tell, nobody did. But surely there were others who
preferred thoughts to mindless chatter? Margolotta seemed to. This da
Quirm fellow, now, he must think a mile a minute. The wizards, too,
they spent all their time in the University, that must inspire
thought.

The point was, if you stopped thinking, you got into trouble. If you
weren't one step ahead of the crowd, what good were you?

It was all right for Selachii and Cyril and Sara and Alice and Sybil
not to think, because they seemed to amble through life never really
causing trouble, or getting into it, or having to get others out of it.
They were constantly on the knife's edge of chaos, as was indeed the
entire city of Ankh-Morpork, but it didn't seem to /matter/ to them.

It mattered to Havelock. Perhaps because he saw how easily one little
shove could knock everything over. Or perhaps because he had a mind
that was always hunting for that little shove, a mind that said it
would be so easy to say /this/ and do /this/ and everything will be at
your feet.

/If I knew the answer to that question, Margolotta, I could rule the
world./

And she'd /told/ him! What kind of fool --

Not a fool. No. She was many things, but not a fool.

Igor'd gone into town today. He'd asked about the others. They were
nearly done. They'd be here in a few hours to pick him up, and then
the newly rented carriage would take them, and him, down past
Borogravia and into the valley that led to Genua, where his aunt was
waiting for them.

It's too soon. I'm not done yet.

And then a thought so shocking that he froze.

I don't want to leave.

Not leave Uberwald? Not go back to Ankh-Morpork? He couldn't remember a
time when he'd thought of the city as anything other than his home. All
through the tour, which was a good two months already, he'd thought
with longing of going home. He had learned a great deal and seen at
least four of the eight wonders of the Disc, but the whole time, while
he baited Cyril and ignored Alice and conspired with Sybil, he'd been
counting the hours until they were back in Ankh-Morpork.

He slid out of bed, carefully, and glanced back to make sure he hadn't
woken Margolotta. She'd be up soon enough anyway.

Trousers...shirt...cuff-links...

He wished, not for the first time, that there was one single mirror in
this blasted castle. He had no idea if he was shaving his entire face or
just bits of it. He sighed, and ambled down to the drawing room.

It was his move at the chessboard. He'd spent the first day -- well,
night, really, since Margolotta slept when the daylight was strongest --
the first night of the game testing, circling, trying to understand her
strategies. He didn't realize until he was almost asleep that night --
day -- that she was doing the same.

She was a match for him. It was unprecedented in his experience.

Now he picked up one of the bishops and considered it. He liked bishops.
They moved obliquely. They had subtlety. Most people, when they look at
a checkered board, can only think in straight lines -- up, down, left,
right. They tend to forget about bishops.

He touched the square where the bishop had been, and drew a diagonal
up the board to one of Margolotta's knights. The bishop clicked when he
set it down.

He left it a square away from taking the other piece. Sometimes it is
better to show what you could have done, than to actually do it.

Margolotta would notice he'd moved. She always did.

"I cannot bear chess before breakvast."

He blinked. How long had he been standing at the chess board?

Margolotta was standing behind one of the low couches, a wine-glass in
her hand. It was tacitly understood that Havelock, being her companion,
was not an entree, and so she'd resorted to other methods that he
didn't inquire too deeply about.

"Hunger makes you sharp," he said.

"Assassins' Guild saying?"

"Their excuse for small portions in the dining hall."

She came to look at the chess-board, and laughed.

"Very good, Havelock. I like that. It has sztyle."

"We won't finish the game."

"Oh no?"

"I'm leaving in a few hours. Selachii and the rest are coming to get me."

"Sztay here. At least until the game is finished."

He felt her hands on his shoulders, her cheek between his shoulderblades.

"You haven't taught me everything you know," she said quietly.

"Neither have you."

"Pretty vell nearly." He let himself be turned to face her. "Stay until
zer game is done. You can follow your friends in a veek or two."

"It wouldn't be fair."

"To whom?"

"Either of us. I'd play for a draw."

"Vould that be so bad?"

"I never play for draws, Margolotta. If I don't leave now, I won't ever.
I have to leave. I wouldn't be happy like this. You wouldn't be happy
with me."

Margolotta laughed, but she was nervous now. "Vhy? Vhy vouldn't you be
happy?"

"The same reason I couldn't have let you in through the window on the
first night we came here. I can't respect tradition, not when it's like
this."

"Like what?"

"Like...like an excuse for not doing anything! Don't you see? I've been
trying to explain it for a week."

"Vell, I'm sorry if I'm being stupid," she said angrily.

"Are you, Margolotta?" he asked, well aware that it was anger talking
now and not good sense, but he couldn't seem to stop. "I don't think you
really wanted to learn. I think you enjoy the stupid life."

"/Vot/?" asked Margolotta, in a dangerously low voice.

"I think you like being a...a roadside attraction!" said Havelock. "I
think it's easy. You talk about feeding off people, making them docile,
but it makes you tame too, doesn't it? It's the easy road. Be The
Vampire. Embrace The Night. It's a mindless way to live, Margolotta,
and you're smart enough to choose the better option."

"Vot, like you? Bearing the veight of the Disc on my shoulders because
I can?"

"Yes! Because if we don't, who will? Uberwald's just a little
assortment of fifedoms constantly at war with each other over who gets
the biggest bowl of fatsup -- "

"Und Ankh-Morpork is so very civilised? I hear zey have secret police,
und political killings, und -- "

"But we don't pretend that it's the right way to do it because it's the
way things have always been done. People protest."

"Until they cut out their tongues."

"At least they used them. Listen to me, Margolotta! Right now I've
been sent out of the city because it's dangerous to be a nobleman under
Snapcase. The others have families to protect them, none of them are
titled lords or ladies yet. My parents died when I was a very young man.
From the moment I became Lord Vetinari it was my job to protect the city.
Twelve years old! Twelve years old and I thought I ought to be on the
walls, defending Ankh-Morpork against invaders. But the poison's coming
from inside the city, and I can't defend against that. So here I am. In
Uberwald. I know about uselessness, Margolotta, but you have power in
this place. You could -- "

"I am not villing to take that risk."

"Of course not. You're not really alive."

He was sorry as soon as he'd said it; the hurt that crossed her face
was quickly hidden, but it was all too real.

"Look at that, Margolotta," he said quietly. "You did make me lose
control. Well done. I think your training is complete. You won't ever
have the courage to use it, but at least it'll be something to think
about on the long Uberwald nights."

And he left. Out into the sunlight, where she couldn't follow. By the
time he came back for his trunk, she was gone. Igor said she was down
in the garden.

There was a single white flower, like a delicate reproach, on the bed.

When he arrived home, he found a book in his trunk, as well. A History
of Uberwald, by Antoni Zhalien.

Well, she had promised to give him a book when he left.

The next time he heard from Margolotta, it was an official document of
congratulations; he didn't know how word had got back to Uberwald so
quickly, but he was sure she had her sources. Everything about it was
formalised -- the neat, copperplate writing, heavy official paper, dead
ceremonial words. Lady Margolotta begs to congratulate his Lordship on
his appointment to the office of Patrician of Ankh-Morpork...

Even then, it meant more to him than all the letters from the guilds
combined. He wasn't a great man for keeping things, but he put it in
the History of Uberwald, and it was still in his bookshelf, next to his
desk in the Oblong Office.

Now, twenty-five years later, here he was. Patrician, sitting in the
Palace, with the power he'd talked about -- yelled about, really -- during
the last dialogue with Margolotta.

"We were all glad to see you safely back in Ankh-Morpork," he said. The
Commander of the Watch, standing before his desk, nodded. "I understand
things were quite...eventful, in Uberwald."

"You could say that, sir," Vimes answered.

"Still, you managed to come out on top, Vimes, as usual. I've ratified
the trade agreement, and the fat should, very soon, be rolling in. Quite
a keen negotiator, your Lady Sybil. And I hear the dwarves were most
impressed by her operatic abilities."

"She's a woman of many talents."

"I agree. How is her health?"

He waited to see if Vimes would catch it. Sometimes he was surprisingly
keen. Word had got around about Sybil's pregnancy, though Vetinari was
almost positive that she'd told Vimes, before his own sources had
informed him of it.

There was a glint in Vimes' eye. Yes, he'd caught it.

"She's well. The holiday did us both good."

"Excellent. Now. I assume Carrot's been briefing you on the situation
in the city, so I shan't waste your time. I have your report on your
Uberwaldean activities...most amusing, I'm sure. You seem to have
single-handedly upset hundreds of years of tradition in about three
and a half days. Even for you, Commander, that is most likely a
record."

"Couldn't speak to that, sir. I wasn't the only one playing Silly
Buggers up there."

"I'm sure you never are," Vetinari said gravely. "I think that's all,
Commander."

Vimes was almost to the door by the time Vetinari decided that yes, he
did want to ask the question.

"Vimes..."

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm told you...had some dealings with the Lady Margolotta, while in the
old country."

Now Vimes smiled, a smile that Vetinari, who usually had the upper
hand in conversations like this, had never seen before.

"Yes, sir."

Vetinari waited patiently. Even a copper, when faced with such a
suckingly silent listener, tends to want to fill the void.

"She's a Black Ribboner now, sir."

"How interesting." Vetinari fought another losing battle; yes,
Margolotta was the one person who could break his famous control.
He continued to stare at Vimes, while the young Havelock from long
ago begged the Duke not to make him ask.

"She did mention you, sir," said Vimes, finally.

"Oh yes?"

"Asked after your health. She said you wouldn't have sent a fool to
Uberwald. And that politics is more interesting than blood."

Vetinari nodded. "Thank you, Commander. You may go."

END
Which just goes to show that Havelock had a lot to learn about wizards.

Even the one from the Assassins' guild, about how proud he'd made
them all and how they hoped this would be a boon for the school, up
Viper House!