Feet of Clay

“we have to talk to you on a grave matter concerning— What have I sat in?”
    Carrot brushed a chair hurriedly. “Sorry, sir, we don’t seem to have much time to clean up—”
    “Leave it for now, leave it for now.”
    The head of the Assassins’ Guild leaned forward with his hands pressed together.
    “Captain Carrot, we are here to discuss this terrible matter of the poisoning of Lord Vetinari.”
    “You really ought to talk to Commander Vimes—”
    “I believe that on a number of occasions Commander Vimes has made derogatory comments to you about Lord Vetinari,” said Dr. Downey.
    “You mean like ‘He ought to be hung except they can’t find a twisty enough rope’?” said Carrot. “Oh, yes. But everyone does that.”
    “Do you?”
    “Well, no,” Carrot admitted.
    “And I believe he personally took over the investigation of the poisoning?”
    “Well, yes. But—”
    “Didn’t you think that was odd?”
    “No, sir. Not when I thought about it. I think he’s got a sort of soft spot for the Patrician, in his way. He once said that if anyone was going to kill Vetinari he’d like it to be him.”
    “Indeed?”
    “But he was smiling when he said it. Sort of smiling, anyway.”
    “He, er, visits his lordship most days, I believe?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And I understand that his efforts to discover the poisoner have not reached any conclusions?”
    “Not as such, sir,” said Carrot. “We’ve found a lot of ways he’s not being poisoned.”
    Downey nodded at the others. “We would like to inspect the Commander’s office,” he said.
    “I don’t know if that’s—” Carrot began.
    “Please think very carefully,” said Dr. Downey. “We three represent most of the guilds of this city. We feel we have a good reason for inspecting the Commander’s office. You will of course accompany us to see that we do nothing illegal.”
    Carrot looked awkward. “I suppose…if I’m with you…” he said.
    “That’s right,” said Downey. “That makes it official.”
    Carrot led the way. “I don’t even know, if he’s back,” he said, opening the door. “As I said, we’ve been…oh.”
    Downey peered around him and at the figure slumped over the desk.
    “It would appear that Sir Samuel is in,” he said. “But quite out of it.”
    “I can smell the drink from here,” said Mrs. Palm. “It’s terrible what drink will do to a man.”
    “A whole bottle of Bearhugger’s finest,” said Mr. Boggis. “All right for some, eh?”
    “But he hasn’t touched a drop all year!” said Carrot, giving the recumbent Vimes a shake. “He goes to meetings about it and everything!”
    “Now let us see…” said Downey.
    He pulled open one of the desk drawers, and held it open.
    “Captain Carrot?” he said. “Can you witness that there appears to be a bag of grayish powder in here? I will now—”
    Vimes’s hand shot out and slammed the drawer on the man’s fingers. His elbow rammed back into the assassin’s stomach and, as Downey’s chin jerked down, Vimes’ arm swung upwards and caught him full on the nose.
    Then Vimes opened his eyes.
    “Wassat? Wassat?” he said, raising his head. “Dr. Downey? Mr. Boggis? Carrot? Hmm?”
    “Hwat? Hwat?” screamed Downey. “You hns-fruck me!”
    “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Vimes, concern radiating from every feature as he pushed the chair back into Downey’s groin and stood up. “I’m afraid I must have dropped off and, of course, when I woke up and found someone stealing from…”
    “You’re raving drunk, man!” said Mr. Boggis.
    Vimes’s features froze.
    “Indeed? Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,” he snarled, prodding the man in the chest. “A peck of bloody pickled peppers Peter Piper damn’ well picked. Do you want me to continue?” he said, poking the man until his back was against the wall. “It doesn’t get much better!”
    “Hwhat about thif packet?” shouted Downey, clutching his streaming nose with one hand and waving at the desk with the other.
    Vimes still wore a wild-eyed mirthless grin. “Ah, well, yes,” he said. “You’ve got me there. A highly dangerous substance.”
    “Ah, you admit it!”
    “Yes, indeed. I suppose I have no alternative but to dispose of the evidence…” Vimes grabbed the packet, ripped it open and tipped most of the contents into his mouth.
    “Mmm mmm ,” he said, powder spraying everywhere as he masticated. “Feel that tingle on the tongue!”
    “But