"What? Oh, no," he said. "Probably not."
A vampire and a werewolf in one room, he thought, as he headed on up the stairs to his office. Well, they"ll just have to deal with it. And that"ll be only the first of our problems.
"And I took Mr Pessimal up to the interview room," Cheery called after him.
Vimes stopped mid-stair.
"Pessimal?" he said.
"The government inspector, sir?" said Cheery. "The one you told me about?"
Oh yes, thought Vimes. The second of our problems.
It was politics. Vimes could never get a handle on politics, which was full of traps for honest men. This one had been sprung last week, in Lord Vetinari"s office, at the normal daily meeting ...
"Ah, Vimes," said his lordship as Vimes entered. "So kind of you to
come. Isn"t it a beautiful day?"
Up until now, Vimes thought, when he spotted the two other
people in the room.
"You wanted me, sir?" he said, turning to Vetinari again. "There"s a Silicon Anti-Defamation League march in Water Street and I"ve got traffic backed up all the way to Least Gate-"
"I"m sure it can wait, commander.
"Yes, sir. That"s the trouble, sir. That"s what it"s doing."
Vetinari waved a languid hand. "But full carts congesting the street, Vimes, is a sign of progress," he declared.
"Only in the figurative sense, sir," said Vimes.
"Well, at any rate I"m sure your men can deal with it," said Vetinari, nodding to an empty chair. "You have so many of them now. Such an expense. Do sit down, commander. Do you know Mr John Smith?"
The other man at the table took the pipe out of his mouth and gave Vimes a smile of manic friendliness.
"I don"t believe wwwe have had the pleasure," he said, extending a hand. It should not be possible to roll your double-yous, but John Smith managed it.
Shake hands with a vampire? Not bloody likely, Vimes thought, not even one wearing a badly handknitted pullover. He saluted instead.
"Pleased to meet you, sir," he said crisply, standing to attention. It really was an awful garment, that pullover. It had a queasy zigzag pattern, in many strange, unhappy colours. It looked like something knitted as a present by a colour-blind aunt, the sort of thing you wouldn"t dare throw away in case the rubbish collectors laughed at you and kicked your bins over.
"Vimes, Mr Smith is-" Vetinari began.
"President of the Ankh-Morpork Mission of the Uberwald League of Temperance," said Vimes. "And I believe the lady next to him to be Mrs Doreen Winkings, treasurer of same. This is about having a vampire in the Watch, isn"t it, sir? Again:
"Yes, Vimes, it is," said Vetinari. "And, yes, it is again. Shall we all be seated? Vimes?"
There was no escape, Vimes knew, as he sagged resentfully into a chair. And this time he was going to lose. Vetinari had cornered him.
Vimes knew all the arguments for having different species in the Watch. They were good arguments. Some of the arguments against them were bad arguments. There were trolls in the Watch, plenty of dwarfs, one werewolf, three golems, an Igor and, not least, Corporal Nobbs, [1] so why not a vampire? And the League of Temperance was a fact. Vampires wearing the League"s Black Ribbon ("Not one Drop!") were a fact, too. Admittedly, vampires who had sworn off blood could be a bit weird, but they were intelligent and clever and as such a potential asset to society. And the Watch was the most visible arm of government in the city. Why not set an example?
Because, said Vimes"s battered but still functional soul, you hate bloody vampires. No messing about, no dissembling, no weasel words about "the public won"t stand for it" or "it"s not the right time. You hate bloody vampires and it"s your bloody Watch.
The other three were staring at him.
"Mr Vimes," said Mrs Winkings, "ve cannot help but notice that you still haf not employed any of our members in the Vatch . .