Snuff

who had been listening to the pounding of the surf for some time, said, “Are you awake, dear?” And then, because this is how these things are done, raised his voice a little when he got no answer and repeated, “Are you awake, dear?”
    â€œYes, Sam. I am now.”
    Vimes stared at the ceiling. “I wonder if it’s all going to work.”
    â€œOf course it will! People are very enthusiastic about it, you know; they’re intrigued. And I’ve pulled more strings than an elephant’s corset. It will work. What about you?”
    There was a gecko on the ceiling; you didn’t get them in Ankh-Morpork. It looked at Vimes with jeweled eyes. He said, “Well, it’ll be more or less a standard procedure.” He shifted uneasily, and the gecko retreated to the corner of the room. “I’m a bit worried, though, some things I’ve done come within the law and one or two others are rather ad hoc , as it were.”
    â€œYou were just opening a way for the law to flow in, Sam. The end justifies the means.”
    â€œI’m afraid a lot of bad men have used that to justify bad things, dear.”
    Under the covers Sybil’s hand reached out to touch his. “That’s no reason why one good man shouldn’t use it to justify a good thing. Don’t worry , Sam!”
    Woman’s logic, Sam thought: everything is going to be all right because it ought to be all right. The trouble is, reality is never as simple as that and doesn’t allow for paperwork.
    Vimes dozed comfortably for a while and then heard Sybil say, in a whisper, “He’s not going to escape, is he, Sam? You said he’s good with locks.”
    â€œWell, they have damn good locks on the cells here in Quirm, there’s a guard watching him at all times and he’s going to be taken up to Ankh-Morpork on their hurry-up wagon under armed escort. I can’t imagine the circumstances that would allow him to escape. After all, the Quirm lads want to do this one by the numbers. I bet they’ll have shined up their armor until it looks like silver. They’ll want to impress me, you see? Don’t worry, I’m certain nothing will go wrong.”
    They lay there, comfortable, and then Vimes said, “The curator of the zoo was very complimentary about Young Sam.”
    Sleepily, Sybil murmured, “Perhaps he’ll be another Woolsthorpe, but maybe this time with the missing ingredient of common sense.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know what he’s going to be,” said Sam Vimes, “but I do know he’ll be good at it.”
    â€œThen he’ll be Sam Vimes,” said Sybil. “Let’s get some sleep.”

N ext day the family went home, which is to say that Sybil and Young Sam went home to Ankh-Morpork on a fast coach, after a small hiatus which led to Young Sam’s growing collection being removed from inside the coach and strapped to the roof, while Sam Vimes took the Black-Eyed Susan back to the Hall, because there was still a matter of business to be concluded. Since he was a King of the River the pilot let him steer for part of the way, admittedly staring obsessively over his shoulder, just in case. And Vimes had fun, an infrequent event. It is a strange thing to find yourself doing something you have apparently always wanted to do, when in fact up until that moment you had never known that you had always wanted to do it, or even what it was, but Sam Vimes, for a moment upon the world, was a riverboat pilot and was as happy as a cat full of sixpences.
    That night he lay alone in the vastness of Ramkin Hall—except, of course, for the hundred or so servants—turning the events of the previous week over and over in his head, and especially his own actions during them. Time and again he cross-examined himself mercilessly. Had he cheated? Not exactly. Had he misled? Not exactly. Had he acted as a policeman should? Well, now, that was the question, wasn’t it?
    In the morning two young maids brought him his breakfast and Vimes was amused to see that they were accompanied by a footman as a chaperone. In a way he found that rather flattering. Then he went for a walk through the lovely countryside, listening to the liquid notes of the robin et cetera (he couldn’t remember the names of the others, but they were jolly good singers all the same).
    And as he walked he was aware of eyes upon him from every cottage and field.