Chapter 3: The Politics Of Law Enforcement
 

    “WHEEEEEEEN THEEEEEEEEE *gasp* moon hits your face, like a tur-tle in space, that’s a MOR-AAAAAAAAYYY!!!!”
Rincewind’s fingers were starting to cramp up from the hold they had on the brim of his hat, which was held tightly over his ears. He made his forty-second oath that day that if he heard Brian sing another verse of that song that he would kill himself, then come back and kill her.
    They had been riding for the better part of a day, and Rincewind’s rear was feeling the strain. He should have predicted that     Ostentatious didn’t have a proper saddle. Since Brian was so short, and Ostentatious so big, she would have had to do a horizontal split to ride the animal. Instead, she had strapped cushion to the horse’s back and was seated comfortably, cross-legged. She would occasionally tap the horse’s flank with long stick with a yarn tassel on the end, to remind him to keep going forward and no, they hadn’t stopped noticing whether or not he was moving.
    “er. . . could I ask you a favor?” ventured Rincewind during one of Brian’s gasps for breath.
    “mmm?”
    “d’you think you could stop singing?”
    “oh, sorry. Do you want me to sing something else? I know lots of songs, I know “Ode to Ankh-Morpork”, the Lancre National Anthem, “When Klatchian Eyes are Smiling,” “I Wanna Duck You Like an Animal. . .”
    “er, well, I was wondering if you could, er, stop. . .”
    “what, here? but we’re coming out of the forest already, there’s no point in stopping now.”
    “I meant your singing. . .”
    “oh, do you have a request?”
    “a. . . no, no, could you-“
    “HALT THERE!!”
    Both riders fell silent and looked at the path ahead, where the booming voice had come from. Standing in the middle of the path was what was definitely a barbarian. He was large, muscled and garbed much like your average barbarian hero. However, the fact that everything he wore was black and rather spiky immediately labeled him as a villain.
    “yes? Can I help you?” inquired Brian curiously.
    The man hefted an alarmingly large battle-axe. “Bet you can, little lady, I’ll bet you can. . .” he looked her (or, at least the small portion he could see of her around Osten’s thick neck) up and down, leering appropriately.
    “well, state your business and be on, then, we haven’t got all day.” Huffed Brian.
    Rincewind ducked behind her and hoped that any pointy objects would miss him.
    “what’s our business, boys?”
    several burly men of varying size and shape emerged from the conveniently-placed bushes on either side of the road. Like a pack of lumpy wolves circling in for the kill, they enclosed on Osten and his two riders.
    Rincewind, like the hardy, upstanding man he was, whimpered.
    “we’d like to relieve you of your burden, girly. . .” rasped another man with the face of an ugly rodent, only harrier.
    “and maybe you’d like to give us a little something in return. . .?” snickered another, waving a rusty, pitted sword at them.
    another one leered quite alarmingly at Rincewind, “I wouldn’t mind giving this one a tussle or two before delivery.” A third rasped, licking his lips at the petrified wizard.
    “guh. . . uh. . .”
    “a little something in return, you say?” Brian stroked her chin and peered at the party surrounding her. “I’m not so sure about that boys. . . I don’t know if you can handle me. you see, I like it rough.”
    The men’s faces lit up in anticipation, “you like it rough, do you?”
    “oh yes. Very rough.” She jerked a thumb at Rincewind who gave a little shriek, “so does he.”
    “well, I think we can manage that, can’t we boys?”
    “oh good. Silly me, I just can’t resist a challenge.” With those words, her wooden mallet seemed to magically appear in her hand, and the blur that her foot became hit the first barbarian square in the nose, with a sickening crack. As several swords were launched in her direction, she leapt straight into the air, landing neatly on the shoulders of one of the barbarians. As he thrashed about, trying to loosen the choking hold her legs had on his neck, she struck out left and right with her mallet, cracks accompanying each stroke. By the time her thrashing mount finally fell to his knees from lack of oxygen, they were surrounded by a group of unconscious and dead barbarians, most of them sporting broken bones, if not smashed to a pulp.
    Rincewind felt nauseous. He swayed in his seat, the world beginning to spin.
    Brian looked up at him from the ground, where she was delivering an extra kick or two to her prone competitors, “you don’t look so good. Try putting your head between your knees.”
    The largest of the barbarians groaned and shifted.
    Brian squatted down, thrusting her face inches away from his, “you boys are just lucky I’m a lady, and it’s not dignified for a lady to lose her temper. Otherwise I would have been hard on you.” haughtily tossing her hair over one shoulder, she sheathed her mallet on one of her saddlebags.
    Rincewind was soon distracted from his nausea at the spectacle of the short Brian trying to mount her impressive horse, who stood patiently the whole while, chewing on a piece of leather from one of the barbarians’ loincloths.
    She first threw her arms over Osten’s back and hooked one of her legs over as well. using the leverage, she managed to pull herself up, right over the horse’s broad back, and over the other side, where she plopped back onto the dusty track. Quickly righting herself and acting as if that was exactly what she had meant to do, she tried the same thing and managed to steady herself on the horse’s back, only facing the wrong way.
    Rincewind didn’t quite know how to react to suddenly finding Brian sitting in his lap. Before he could gurgle his objection, she stood up and, after much grabbing of various handholds (including Rincewind’s face and Osten’s ears) she managed to face the right direction and settle herself.
    “well,” she said, taking the reins and tapping Osten’s flank with her makeshift riding crop, “shall we be off then?”
    Rincewind gave a noncommittal grunt.
    “spiffing. Let’s go.”
    They trotted off down the winding path, heading closer and closer to that sprawled lump of buildings and refuse known as Ankh-Morpork.
******************
    It was evening when they finally passed through the gates into the city. The familiar smell wafted toward them, a scent that could make a strong man weep. Or pass out cold. Or die, for that matter. The streets were, as always, still bustling, people finishing work for the day, others starting, the evening market shoppers making their rounds to the less-conventional stalls that didn’t keep normal hours.
    Brian, for the sake of appearances, had tied Rincewind’s hands behind his back. “what kind of impression would I make on people if you were just free to hop off the horse and go where you please?” she reasoned.
    They were passing the City Watch Headquarters when a distinct and familiar voice called at them to halt.
    Brian turned in the saddle to see the figure striding purposefully toward them, “Samuel Vimes!!” she squealed in a strange mixture of nervousness and delight, “well, fancy meeting you here! long time no see!”
    “well, I’d sort of hoped it’d been longer. . .” he growled at her, sticking a cigar in his mouth and lighting it.
    “silly, you don’t mean that!”
    “look, I’m only going to tell you once, so listen up: let the wizard go. There, have I made myself clear?”
    Brian, enjoying herself immensely, leaned forward, “why should I let him go? I’m here on legitimate city business.”
    “arrest her! She’s insane!” burst out Rincewind in desperation.
    “I intend to.” replied Vimes. “look, the Patrician is after this wizard, and you will release him into my custody. Or do I sic Angua on you?”
    “ooooh, Sammy darling, you cannot touch me.” she rummaged in one of her bags, dislodging several more rubber bands, and pulled out the contract, “read ‘em and weep, copper! Or isn’t that your signature on the bottom. . .?”
    Vimes, recognizing the contract, went livid, “you?! he hired you?”
    “well, who else could do the job better?”
    “don’t make me answer that. . .”
    “aw, come on, can’t we let bygones be bygones. . .?”
    “the Pancake-House incident will not quietly become a bygone. . .”
    Brian stabbed a finger at Vimes, “hey, that was *not* my fault!!”
    “it took us three, repeat, three days to pry the ambassador off of the ceiling!”
    “it was his own fault.” Sniffed Brian, “anyways, you can’t arrest me for that now, take a look at the contract, I’ve got immunity as long as I’m on this job.”
    Vimes glowered at her, but handed her the contract and admitted, “fine. The order for your arrest is temporarily suspended until such time as your job is finished.”
    “see, now that wasn’t too hard, was it?”
    Vimes thrust a finger in Brian’s face and waggled it warningly, “don’t push it, Ms. Etcetera, or need I remind you of the exotic-pet shop encounter. . .”
    Brian shifted nervously in her seat, “it’s not like anyone got hurt. . .”
    Vimes raised an eyebrow.
    “I wasn’t stealing them, besides. I was. . . er. . . *liberating* them!”
    Vimes snorted and waved them on, giving Ostentatious a hearty slap on the rear for good measure.
    “what a grouch.” Brian remarked as they rode toward the palace.
    “so you’re going to be arrested, then?” Rincewind pursed his lips, imagining freedom from the little maniac.
    She shrugged, “I dunno. I’ve got some friends I stay with every time I’m in Ankh-Morpork, who can probably get me out of it.”
    “legally?”
    “mmm. . . maybe. . .”
    “where do they live?”
    “palace district, uptown. Big place. Plenty of places for me to lurk until Vimes cools his head.”
    Rincewind sighed. Soon. soon the nightmare would be over, though the waking from this one would probably, given his luck, be the start of a new one. they approached the gates to the palace complex. Brian displayed the contract with the Patrician’s signature to the guards. The huge doors creaked open, and they rode inside.

Back to Storage
Chapter 4: Political Inprisonment
Chapter 2: Contract Killing