Title: Playing tennis against a wall
Summary: At first it seemed to her that there were worse things than a position as court librarian in Uberwald: generous pay, tons of books, lots of free time, no men to stalk you. But when politics prove to be contagious, it turns out that her first day on the job is not quite what she expected.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: T for language and a bit of violence. Not much, though, and mostly to be on the safe side.
Characters/Pairings: Miss M. Healstether; Lady Margolotta von Überwald; probably some cameos I can't be bothered to jot down now. No pairings.
Miss Healstether arrived late at night of the same day. She found the inn at second try, due to the rather annoying mist lazing in the deserted streets. The inn itself was not a breath more than she had expected – the locals eyed her with unveiled suspicion, whispering behind their hands; the tables were of uncouth wood and looked more like pre-civilizational architecture than furniture; and there was even the obligatory dark shadow looming in the inn's darkest corner, commanding the innkeeper around with nothing more than a wave of its hand.
Ordering a hot soup, she pulled out the scrap of newspaper she had neatly cut out the day before. It was a job advertisement. As a librarian.
"Nice piece o' paper ye got there, luv," said a drunk next to her, ogling the scrap. She sniffled disapprovingly. "Whut tisit?
"A job advertisement," she responded, regardless of how she instantly despised the man, and the fact that she strongly objected to being called 'luv'.
"O rly," he slurred. "So ye wanna work here, luv?"
Miss Healstether looked at him. "Initially, I wanted to, yes. But now that you put it like that, I'm having second thoughts."
"Well, I'm sure you'll do a great job. Pretty thing like you."
The young lady pursed her lips. She hated being given credit on the basis of looking good, or, even worse, of nothing more than merely existing; but that didn't stop her from feeling flattered nonetheless. "I have to get the job first," she pointed out. "The interview is tomorrow evening."
This seemed to sober the man up a bit, but the reason for this escaped her. "Say, luv, wha' kind o' job is 'at?"
"The description says that I will be in charge of the library, buying and arranging books, repairing and restoring books, making registers and whatnot…"
At this, a rather handsome young man at the neighbouring table looked up from the conversation with his friend he had been engrossed with. "If you don't mind me asking, Miss," he said politely, drawing his chair near, "exactly who issued this advertisement? Because as far as I know, we have only one public library here in Bonk, and Mr. Krims is doing an exceptional job, isn't he, Dave?"
His friend shrugged and emptied his mug of beer. "Dunno, never been there," he said and burped. Miss Healstether wrinkled her nose. "I think it is a private library, some… noblewoman." She smoothened the paper and carefully pronounced the name. "Lady Margolotta Amaya Katerina Assumpta Crassina von Überwald."
Lightning flashed, thunder crashed and Miss Healstether wrinkled her nose at the metaphorical rhyme. Weather really had a very bad taste in these parts, just like about everything, including people, furniture, and food. She really hoped that this Lady Margolotta had manners.
Meanwhile, the young man looked shocked, and his friend Dave and the drunk man had hastily performed some sort of ritual gesture on their foreheads, as if to shield off evil spirits. "Miss," the young man stuttered, "Miss, Miss, please, promise me you will not go there, not to her!"
"Why not?"
"She is evil," Dave said, and the drunk nodded fiercely. "They say she stopped drinking blood, yeh, but one does no' need to drink blood or impale people to be evil, nope, tha''s wha' I say. Yeh, drinkin' out o' cups and wearin' pink jumpers is what does it for me."
"You see, Miss, Lady Margolotta is a vampire," said the young man Miss Healstether now named Steve in thought because she was tired of not having a name for him.
"I'm sorry, isn't it custom not to tell me exactly what she is? Frankly, it takes all the fun out of it."
"That wasn't the bad part," Dave said. "She kicked the habit, or so they say."
"Then I don't see a problem."
The villagers looked alarmed. "She is a vampire," Steve said very carefully. "Craving for blood is in her nature. You won't last five minutes, not a pretty thing like you." He lowered his voice. "The dungeons beneath the castle are deep, and sometimes, when the night is quiet, we can hear… noises coming from there." He whispered. "Noises that should be extinct, no longer be heard, like the things that make them. Dreadful things. Unholy things."
"Like what?"
"Can't tell you," said the drunk happily and waved for another beer. "They're pretty gory, though."
Steve ignored him. "Plus, she can kill people with a thought," he went on, his voice still barely audible. "She used to rip your throat out and have you impaled when she was really pissed, pardon my Zlobenian, but now, now... it's all politics and snazzy receptions, and laughs and drinks and whispers and looks from the corner of your eyes, and no one says what he thinks and no one thinks what he says... It's got complicated, and we don't understand complicated. Now, there's unfortunate fires, and mishaps when cutting wood, and dreadful coach accidents. Now, it's civilized."
Miss Healstether smiled detachedly. "That sounds terrible."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm all for civilization, wearing shoes and eating your meat only when it stopped kicking. But at least back when she had people impaled, you knew you had it coming."
"Ah," said Miss Healstether and yawned demonstratively. "Well, as pleasant as this little chat has been, it has got rather late, and if you don't mind I shall sleep over it. I suppose it would be too late anyway to commence my return to Ankh-Morpork today, so I will bid you good night, gentlemen." She rose, and looked down into empty faces. "That means I'll be going to sleep now, good night, you're all, uhm, jolly nice chaps?"
"Aaah."
Miss Healstether thought about Steve's words as she followed the innkeeper up the creaky stairs to her room. This Lady Margolotta seemed a lot like Lord Vetinari – unfortunate accidents, no, of course no governmental involvement, just plain unfortunate that the opposition could not afford horses that didn't jump off the next best cliff. And working for Vetinari... she shivered, but only lightly. She liked to think that she would like that; she'd heard that there were vast filing cabinets, tons of paper clips and spare time for the invention of, say, new ring binders. If Ladyship was anything like that, she thought just before she lay back on her pillows and closed her eyes, if Ladyship was anything like that... then Steve and Dave and Cleave stick their poles where the sun did not shine.
A/N: Alright, so there's the first chapter! Chances are that I will harass you with more chapters, unless you file a complaint against me for crimes against humanity. If you do, please let me know beforehand by clicking on the orange button below. If you do not, please click the orange button anyways. But joke aside, please read and review, let me know what you think, I am grateful for every opinion.