'No, sir,' said Heretofore, who was beginning to worry again. The tight boots had been, well, funny, but surely a finger shouldn't look that colour?
'It's a dreadful sight. It's like watching a beached whale being eaten alive by crabs,' said Cosmo, turning his hand so that the light showed up the shadowy V. 'It may squirm in its agony, but there can be only one outcome. It is a terrible thing, if done properly.'
This is how Vetinari thinks, his soul exulted. Plans can break down. You cannot plan the future. Only presumptuous fools plan. The wise man steers.
'As a director of the bank and, of course, a concerned citizen,' he said dreamily, 'I shall now write a letter to the Times!
'Yes, sir, of course,' said Heretofore, 'and shall I send for a jeweller, sir? I understand they have some fine little snips that - '
'No pain without gain, Drumknott. It sharpens my thinking.' The glove went back on.
'Er...' and then Heretofore gave up. He'd tried his best, but Cosmo was bent on his own destruction, and all a sensible man could do was to make as much money as possible and then stay alive to spend it.
'I've had another stroke of luck, sir,' he ventured. He'd have liked more time, but it was clear that time was getting short.
'Indeed? What is this?'
'That project I have been working on...'
'Very expensively? Yes?'
'I believe I can get you Vetinari's stick, sir.'
'You mean his swordstick?'
'Yes, sir. As far as I know the blade has never been drawn in anger.'
'I understood it was always close to him.'
'I didn't say it would be easy, sir. Or cheap. But after much, much work I now see a clear way,' said Heretofore.
'They say the steel of the blade was taken from the iron in the blood of a thousand men...'
'So I have heard, sir.'
'Have you seen it?'
'Very briefly, sir.'
For the first time in his career, Heretofore found himself feeling sorry for Cosmo. There was a kind of yearning in the man's voice. He didn't want to usurp Vetinari. There were plenty of people in the city who wanted to usurp Vetinari. But Cosmo wanted to be Vetinari.
'What was it like?' The voice was pleading. The poison must have got to his brain, thought Heretofore. But his mind was pretty poisonous to begin with. Perhaps they will be friends.
'Er... well, the handle and scabbard are just like yours, sir, but a little worn. The blade, though, is grey and looks - '
'Grey?'
'Yes, sir. It looks aged and slightly pitted. But here and there, when the light catches it, there are little red and gold flecks. I have to say that it looks ominous.'
'The flecks of light would be the blood, of course,' said Cosmo thoughtfully, 'or, possibly, yes, very possibly the trapped souls of those who died to make the dreadful blade.'
'I had not thought of that, sir,' said Heretofore, who had spent two nights with a new blade, some haematite, a brass brush and some chemicals to produce a weapon that looked as though it'd spring for your throat of its own accord.
'You could get it tonight?'
'I think so, sir. It will be dangerous, of course.'
'And require yet more expense, I imagine,' said Cosmo, with rather more insight than Heretofore would have expected in his current state.