Fabricati diem, Pvnc.-Motto of the City Watch, whittled down to its basic form.

Sir Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh-Morpork, Commander of the City Watch, and Blackboard Monitor[1] stared at the messenger on his doorstep.

“I thought you never left Vetinari’s side,” he murmured. Louder, he said “Drumknott. What the hell are you doing on my doorstep? Couldn’t Vetinari send one of his goons around?”

Drumknott peered over the top of his glasses and replied “Your grace, this is not a normal summons. As a matter of fact it is most irregular, and may require some brief explanation; and Lord Vetinari thought it best to not spread word of the… development before the normal circulation of rumor, half-truths, and lies spread the word.”

Vimes glared at Drumknott. “I’m not covering up a murder, no matter how important the bugger was, and you can-“

“Murder?” Drumknott looked surprised. “It hasn’t been murder- or assassination, for that matter.[2] It’s not even watch business.”

Vimes scratched his head. “If it isn’t watch business,” he ventured, “why are you here?”

Drumknott hesitated, then pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “May I come in, Mr. Vimes? I haven’t come just for you. I’m going to need Lady Sybil, as well.”

“And why do you need my wife?” Vimes growled.

“Two reasons. First, we require someone who is versed in the care of highly magical creatures. Second, we require someone who is well versed in the care of children.”

Vimes blinked. “What?”

“Lift your wings and try again.”

“Yes, Lady Vimes.”

“Call me Mrs. Vimes, or Miss Sybil, dear. And flap!”

Vimes watched as his wife doted on the little white pony standing in the corner of the throne room. He looked, eyes wide, at Vetinari, who was watching the interaction of the two from behind his desk. He cleared his throat. “The only reason I even went along with this little trip was because I assumed you’d gone mad. A talking, magical pony?” He shook his head. “Sounds like something out of one of those silly kids’ books- one of the bad ones.”

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. “And you are proven wrong, I take it?”

“No, you’re still mad, sir,” Vimes said, making the last word sound like a curse. “Just a different kind of mad. You’re no father, that’s for certain, and if you think you are-“

“I think I have no choice, Vimes.” Vetinari looked flabbergasted. Vetinari always had a choice. “The only options are keep her myself, send her somewhere with someone I cannot trust to raise her correctly and well, or remove her from the world.” He looked up at Vimes. “I refuse to murder a little girl, no matter how oddly shaped, for no reason. And I refuse to have her suffer at the hands of the nobility or be the easy pickings for some magic eating monster or malicious wizard.” He glared at Vimes. “If I considered any other choice reasonable, I would attempt them first.”

Vimes opened his mouth to speak, then froze. Vimes was, by his nature, a suspicious bastard™, and therefore always though the worst of anyone. However, he’d never really seen Vetinari seriously wrong, and more importantly, he’d never seen Vetinari explain anything like this.

He looked more closely at the dour figure in front of him. While the average being of Ankh-Morpork would only have seen Vetinari[3], Vimes had, more than once, gotten a brief glance past that. While, for the most part, Vetinari did a very good impression of a true onion[4], he did have some nuances which prevented Vimes from arresting him.

However, for the first time, Vimes saw something he’d never seen before in Vetinari. He blinked just a hair faster than normal, his breathing was actually visible (if only slightly) and his steepled fingers were slowly moving back and forth.

Vimes leaned in and said softly “You’re nervous, aren’t you.”

Vetinari paused, then looked sharply at Vimes.

Vimes leaned back, and said quietly “You called me here for advice. I thought it might be for guard duty, or to expand the watch, but that’s not it is it.” He glanced at Vetinari. The only change in the patrician’s visage was a slight tightening of the lips.

Vimes sighed. “You have no idea how to be a father, do you?”

Vetinari gazed up at Vimes. He paused, and then, almost inaudibly, murmured “Yes.”

“Good.” Vetinari seemed startled by the word. Vimes continued “You need to hold onto that feeling. Men like you an’ me?” He shrugged. “We’re not fathers. Not naturally.”

Vetinari looked at Vimes, then slowly said, “I wouldn’t expect you to put yourself alongside me, Commander.” He sounded like he was telling Vimes not to toe the line, but he was still curious.

Vimes looked down, then silently rolled up this sleeve. Below his wrist lay a strange, looping mark, a sign which could terrorize dwarves with just a look. “Since I got this,” he said softly “I’ve been able to hear things I shouldn’t.” He glanced up at Vetinari, who looked on unsurprised. “But I know why I survived it, and others didn’t. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?”

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. “You’ve always said you watch yourself.”

“Yeah, and I do. But Carrot, he thinks that everyone should watch themselves, and have someone to look after them, too.” He looked up to the ceiling. “I heard you had me and the watch reinforced so that we could watch the city- and you made me commander so that I could watch those that watch the city.” He looked back down at Vetinari. “Myself and yourself included.”

He turned and looked at the little pony, now flapping her wings and hovering a few feet above the floor as his wife watched. “Keep watching yourself. You can’t afford to be Vetinari the Patrician around this girl, just like I can’t be Commander Vimes around Sam.” You want to be a good father? Try to make her better than you. Not stronger, not smarter- make her a better person than we are.”

Vetinari looked past Vimes at Celestia, and slowly nodded his head.

And then Vimes turned back and said lightly “And you’ll probably want to hire a nanny or… whassit’s name, a governess for her. She’ll need a female touch, which I know gods’ all about.”

“A governess? I think I know someone who might fit the bill for someone as… unusual as Celestia.”

Both Vimes and Vetinari blinked and turned to face Sybil. She, using one of the many abilities of a veteran mother[5], had come up behind the two of them, cradling a dozing Celestia in her arms. “She’s the Duchess of Sto-Helit, but since Queen Keli took over she’s been doing wonderful things as a teacher.”

“I’ve heard of her,” Vetinari said. “But she hasn’t been in Ankh-Morpork for years. I don’t know where she went, and I’m going to need help sooner rather than later.” He smiled slightly at Sybil. “So unless you know how to contact her…”

“Well of course I do. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t know what she was up to.” Sybil reached into her bag and removed a thin back book, rifling through it. “Truth be told, she went on a vacation with her former fiancé. She married up, you know. Married a god!”

Vimes paused, and even Vetinari looked shocked for a second. “Did I hear that right?” Vetinari murmured.

“Yes, no one talks about it. The only reason I managed to get the gossip before people ignored her is because I wrote down his contact info.” She smiled as she looked at her book. “Here we are. Lobstang Ludd, member and god of the history monks.” She frowned. “No contact info, though…”

“History monks?” Vimes said. He walked towards the windows, which gave a good view of the street. His gaze fell upon an old man, carefully sweeping up a pile of dust. “I know how to talk to them.”

Author's Notes:

[1] While unimportant to humans, dwarves consider this title very ominous. After all, knowledge is sacred, and the one who gets to choose which knowledge to destroy is dangerous indeed.

[2] There most certainly is a difference. Assassination is when a client is inhumed by a trained gentleman assassin, with payment for the service given by another gentleman to the guild of assassins. Murder is when somebody kills another for money. The guild does not tolerate murder in their city- there has to be some class, after all.

[3] Dour, inscrutable, dangerous, and in charge. Veni, Vidi, Vetinari.

[4] Layer upon layer, but generally the same all the way down.

[5] Abilities include telling instantly when a child is feeling the tiniest bit guilty, appearing right behind boys digging in her flowerbeds, and using a voice which immediately causes every man in a fifty foot radius to cringe and quickly clean up their mess.