The Listener by Fayth
Chapter 1. A/N: I'm really hopeless at titles, which explains the low standard of the title of this, and the lack of chapter titles. Okay? Oh yeah. I don't own Discworld or any of the associated characters and I am making no money from this fic, so please don't sue me. Thank you.
Keeble, Ankh-Morpork's only job broker, shuffled the papers on his desk happily. This new girl was proving to be quite a problem- she had no qualifications, very little practical experience, and was completely against all the jobs he had suggested so far. That meant it could take a long time to find her a suitable placement, and when you charged by the hour that could only be a good thing.
"So, let's recap," he told the girl. "You are 19 years old and are looking for a job. Your previous placement was as a..."
"Listener," Lana replied with a sigh. "I was one of the novices of the order. I've stayed there for five years now and I was going to become a full initiate soon, but then I was asked to leave."
"And why was that exactly?"
"They thought I was a disruptive influence," she said sullenly.
"Meaning?"
"I snored. They tried everything to get me to stop, but eventually they gave up. They said the noise was too much, and it put them off their job."
"So you came to Ankh-Morpork seeking employment."
"Right."
"But you have no qualifications, no experience, and your only useful skill is good hearing.. Tell me, have you ever considered teaching?"
Lana looked horrified. "Gods no! I hate children."
"So I suppose nursery work in one of the Guilds is out of the question as well. On that subject, have you considered actually joining one of the Guilds? Admittedly you are too old to train as an Assassin or Thief, but maybe a *cough* Seamstress?"
The ex-Listener gave him an icy look. "I was raised not to believe in that sort of thing, thank you so much. And if that's the best suggestion you can make I think I would be better searching for a job on my own."
"No, no," Keeble told her hastily. If she left before finding a satisfactory job, she didn't have to pay anything. That was the guarantee he posted on adverts, but right now he was wishing he could change the small print. "I'm sure something will turn up- it just takes a while. In the meantime I can offer you a temporary post, how does that sound?"
"What is it?" she asked suspiciously.
"Cleaner at the Watch House in Pseudopolis Yard. They've been advertising for one for a while. I did have someone lined up, but she can't start for another month, so the job's yours until then. If you want it of course," he added hastily.
Lana gave him another evil look, but there wasn't any enthusiasm in it anymore. She did need the money, after all. And it was only temporary- why not take the job until something better came along? "Okay, fine. I'll take it. But only for a month."
"Of course," he agreed. "You start tomorrow at 8 o clock and work 'til 5 weekdays, pay is 6 dollars a week plus broom allowance. Got that? When you get in ask for Mr Vimes, he'll tell you where to start."
~*~*~*~
The Listeners are the oldest religious sect on the Disc, even though no one can quite decide whether or not Listening is a proper religion. The reason for their existence is to discover what exactly the Creator said when He made the world. They reason that nothing He made could ever be destroyed, and so those first words must still be out there somewhere, bouncing around between the mountains but still audible to someone who listens closely enough.
The Listeners live in a hidden valley carefully designed to collect sound from all over the Disc, amplify it, and funnel it into a special chamber where at all times there are three monks sat carefully Listening. As sound from inside the temple is most amplified, the monks must remain quiet at all times. Anyone making unnecessary noise is severely dealt with.
In Lana's case, the elders of the sect had tried for years to cure her of her problem, but nothing had worked. The Abbot had even sent off to ask a witch for assistance, but even that didn't work. Eventually, in desperation, they tried making her take the four-mile trek down to the village every night to sleep there. But they had under-estimated the penetrative quality of a good snore, and she could still be heard clearly. Finally she had been asked to leave.
Lana had been sent to the order by her parents, who had thought she had Listener potential. They were right- she could hear which side a coin landed on from five miles away- but as far as Lana could tell that was her only skill. It wouldn't do her much good back home- she had lived on a farm near Scrote, where there was nothing interesting to listen to (or even see) for miles. Instead of going home in disgrace, she decided to look for somewhere else to go. After wandering from town to town for a few weeks, she ended up in Ankh-Morpork. Everyone did, eventually*.
*Well, at least some people did. Most of the important ones anyway, but obviously not really everyone. Or it would get kind of crowded. Um.
~*~*~*~
The first thing Lana noticed when she walked into the Watch House was the noise. When you opened the door for the first time it was like being hit by a wall of sound. Despite the early hour the main room was full of people; they were probably just swapping over from the night shift to the day, she decided. With her hearing the noise level was bordering on painful. With so many people talking at once she couldn't focus on one properly, so she just caught brief snatches of conversation as she walked past.
"...so then I told him, ha, if it's your cart then I need $10 for illegal parking pal."
"I've got those reports Captain Carrot was looking for..."
"-know where Ping is? He should be back from patrol now, but..."
"...and then the damn thing's nose fell off!"
It was like being stuck in a room with a radio playing at full volume, with ten people fighting over the controls, and a TV in the corner which hadn't worked properly for years and kept switching stations by itself. By the time Lana reached the narrow wooden stairs at the end of the room her head was practically spinning. She took the stairs two at a time with her hands over her ears. She knocked on the wooden door at the end, and to her relief heard a voice telling her to enter.* She walked into the office and gratefully shut the door behind her, glad to be able to shut out some of the noise.
The room was quite small, with very little furniture. There was a large fireplace and a wooden desk set on one side of the room, and that was about it. Well, if it could be called a desk. It was mostly hidden behind huge piles of paper. Behind the desk sat a man in his forties who was watching her suspiciously.
"Are you Mister Vimes?" Lana asked, just in case she had the wrong room.
"Yes," he said shortly. "You here for the cleaning job?" Lana nodded. Vimes relaxed slightly. "Thank gods- we've been wanting one for weeks. Keeble said you were coming, but then he's said that before. Most of them get about halfway through the door before they see the canteen and make a run for it." He gave her a closely scrutinising look. "You don't look like a cleaner. What's your name?"
"Lana Hensford, sir."
"Got much experience at cleaning?"
"Depends how you mean, sir. I've never had a cleaning job before, but I used to clean up a lot at home. And back in the Valley I was always being put on cleaning duty."
Vimes gave her a Look. "The Valley?"
"The Listeners' Valley, sir. I used to be a Listener, but I left the order recently."
"Listener? Is that one of those religious things?" Vimes asked suspiciously.
"Yes sir."
"So why did you leave this- Valley?"
"I was sent away, sir."
"Oh? Trying to preach to the unwashed many, that sort of thing?"
"No, sir. I was - I think the best word for it is fired. Thrown out of the order and told not to go back." At least not if she was looking for somewhere to sleep, she added silently. "Besides, Listeners don't tend to preach much."
"Sounds sensible enough to me. Why were you fired?"
"I snored, sir."
"You snored." Vimes gave her a particularly deadpan look, wondering if that had been a joke. "You were fired for snoring?"
"Yes, sir. The Listening Monks require complete silence at all times so that they can Listen properly."
"And you snored. So they fired you," he repeated, as if he couldn't get past that point.
"Yes, sir."
Vimes smiled brightly. "Well, you should fit right in here. I'm sure Visit will be glad of someone to talk religion with."
Lana wasn't sure what to say to that, so she just nodded uncertainly. "I'm not really all that religious sir."
"You're not? Then why did you become a Listener in the first place?"
"Indoor work with no heavy lifting," she said promptly. "Besides, you don't have to be very religious to be a Listener. You just have to Listen."
"Right. Well I want you to start by cleaning up in the canteen- gods know it needs it. Then you can just do some general cleaning- any bins that need emptying, any floors that need sweeping, that sort of thing. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Lana said, backing away to go and inspect the dreaded canteen.
*That is, a voice from inside the room. Not the kind of voices people who need dried frog pills hear. At least I sure hope not.
~*~*~*~
A/N: So, verdict please? Good/bad/middle? This is the first fic I've posted so I'm dying to see feedback. Go on, the review button is just down there.
Chapter 1. A/N: I'm really hopeless at titles, which explains the low standard of the title of this, and the lack of chapter titles. Okay? Oh yeah. I don't own Discworld or any of the associated characters and I am making no money from this fic, so please don't sue me. Thank you.
Keeble, Ankh-Morpork's only job broker, shuffled the papers on his desk happily. This new girl was proving to be quite a problem- she had no qualifications, very little practical experience, and was completely against all the jobs he had suggested so far. That meant it could take a long time to find her a suitable placement, and when you charged by the hour that could only be a good thing.
"So, let's recap," he told the girl. "You are 19 years old and are looking for a job. Your previous placement was as a..."
"Listener," Lana replied with a sigh. "I was one of the novices of the order. I've stayed there for five years now and I was going to become a full initiate soon, but then I was asked to leave."
"And why was that exactly?"
"They thought I was a disruptive influence," she said sullenly.
"Meaning?"
"I snored. They tried everything to get me to stop, but eventually they gave up. They said the noise was too much, and it put them off their job."
"So you came to Ankh-Morpork seeking employment."
"Right."
"But you have no qualifications, no experience, and your only useful skill is good hearing.. Tell me, have you ever considered teaching?"
Lana looked horrified. "Gods no! I hate children."
"So I suppose nursery work in one of the Guilds is out of the question as well. On that subject, have you considered actually joining one of the Guilds? Admittedly you are too old to train as an Assassin or Thief, but maybe a *cough* Seamstress?"
The ex-Listener gave him an icy look. "I was raised not to believe in that sort of thing, thank you so much. And if that's the best suggestion you can make I think I would be better searching for a job on my own."
"No, no," Keeble told her hastily. If she left before finding a satisfactory job, she didn't have to pay anything. That was the guarantee he posted on adverts, but right now he was wishing he could change the small print. "I'm sure something will turn up- it just takes a while. In the meantime I can offer you a temporary post, how does that sound?"
"What is it?" she asked suspiciously.
"Cleaner at the Watch House in Pseudopolis Yard. They've been advertising for one for a while. I did have someone lined up, but she can't start for another month, so the job's yours until then. If you want it of course," he added hastily.
Lana gave him another evil look, but there wasn't any enthusiasm in it anymore. She did need the money, after all. And it was only temporary- why not take the job until something better came along? "Okay, fine. I'll take it. But only for a month."
"Of course," he agreed. "You start tomorrow at 8 o clock and work 'til 5 weekdays, pay is 6 dollars a week plus broom allowance. Got that? When you get in ask for Mr Vimes, he'll tell you where to start."
~*~*~*~
The Listeners are the oldest religious sect on the Disc, even though no one can quite decide whether or not Listening is a proper religion. The reason for their existence is to discover what exactly the Creator said when He made the world. They reason that nothing He made could ever be destroyed, and so those first words must still be out there somewhere, bouncing around between the mountains but still audible to someone who listens closely enough.
The Listeners live in a hidden valley carefully designed to collect sound from all over the Disc, amplify it, and funnel it into a special chamber where at all times there are three monks sat carefully Listening. As sound from inside the temple is most amplified, the monks must remain quiet at all times. Anyone making unnecessary noise is severely dealt with.
In Lana's case, the elders of the sect had tried for years to cure her of her problem, but nothing had worked. The Abbot had even sent off to ask a witch for assistance, but even that didn't work. Eventually, in desperation, they tried making her take the four-mile trek down to the village every night to sleep there. But they had under-estimated the penetrative quality of a good snore, and she could still be heard clearly. Finally she had been asked to leave.
Lana had been sent to the order by her parents, who had thought she had Listener potential. They were right- she could hear which side a coin landed on from five miles away- but as far as Lana could tell that was her only skill. It wouldn't do her much good back home- she had lived on a farm near Scrote, where there was nothing interesting to listen to (or even see) for miles. Instead of going home in disgrace, she decided to look for somewhere else to go. After wandering from town to town for a few weeks, she ended up in Ankh-Morpork. Everyone did, eventually*.
*Well, at least some people did. Most of the important ones anyway, but obviously not really everyone. Or it would get kind of crowded. Um.
~*~*~*~
The first thing Lana noticed when she walked into the Watch House was the noise. When you opened the door for the first time it was like being hit by a wall of sound. Despite the early hour the main room was full of people; they were probably just swapping over from the night shift to the day, she decided. With her hearing the noise level was bordering on painful. With so many people talking at once she couldn't focus on one properly, so she just caught brief snatches of conversation as she walked past.
"...so then I told him, ha, if it's your cart then I need $10 for illegal parking pal."
"I've got those reports Captain Carrot was looking for..."
"-know where Ping is? He should be back from patrol now, but..."
"...and then the damn thing's nose fell off!"
It was like being stuck in a room with a radio playing at full volume, with ten people fighting over the controls, and a TV in the corner which hadn't worked properly for years and kept switching stations by itself. By the time Lana reached the narrow wooden stairs at the end of the room her head was practically spinning. She took the stairs two at a time with her hands over her ears. She knocked on the wooden door at the end, and to her relief heard a voice telling her to enter.* She walked into the office and gratefully shut the door behind her, glad to be able to shut out some of the noise.
The room was quite small, with very little furniture. There was a large fireplace and a wooden desk set on one side of the room, and that was about it. Well, if it could be called a desk. It was mostly hidden behind huge piles of paper. Behind the desk sat a man in his forties who was watching her suspiciously.
"Are you Mister Vimes?" Lana asked, just in case she had the wrong room.
"Yes," he said shortly. "You here for the cleaning job?" Lana nodded. Vimes relaxed slightly. "Thank gods- we've been wanting one for weeks. Keeble said you were coming, but then he's said that before. Most of them get about halfway through the door before they see the canteen and make a run for it." He gave her a closely scrutinising look. "You don't look like a cleaner. What's your name?"
"Lana Hensford, sir."
"Got much experience at cleaning?"
"Depends how you mean, sir. I've never had a cleaning job before, but I used to clean up a lot at home. And back in the Valley I was always being put on cleaning duty."
Vimes gave her a Look. "The Valley?"
"The Listeners' Valley, sir. I used to be a Listener, but I left the order recently."
"Listener? Is that one of those religious things?" Vimes asked suspiciously.
"Yes sir."
"So why did you leave this- Valley?"
"I was sent away, sir."
"Oh? Trying to preach to the unwashed many, that sort of thing?"
"No, sir. I was - I think the best word for it is fired. Thrown out of the order and told not to go back." At least not if she was looking for somewhere to sleep, she added silently. "Besides, Listeners don't tend to preach much."
"Sounds sensible enough to me. Why were you fired?"
"I snored, sir."
"You snored." Vimes gave her a particularly deadpan look, wondering if that had been a joke. "You were fired for snoring?"
"Yes, sir. The Listening Monks require complete silence at all times so that they can Listen properly."
"And you snored. So they fired you," he repeated, as if he couldn't get past that point.
"Yes, sir."
Vimes smiled brightly. "Well, you should fit right in here. I'm sure Visit will be glad of someone to talk religion with."
Lana wasn't sure what to say to that, so she just nodded uncertainly. "I'm not really all that religious sir."
"You're not? Then why did you become a Listener in the first place?"
"Indoor work with no heavy lifting," she said promptly. "Besides, you don't have to be very religious to be a Listener. You just have to Listen."
"Right. Well I want you to start by cleaning up in the canteen- gods know it needs it. Then you can just do some general cleaning- any bins that need emptying, any floors that need sweeping, that sort of thing. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Lana said, backing away to go and inspect the dreaded canteen.
*That is, a voice from inside the room. Not the kind of voices people who need dried frog pills hear. At least I sure hope not.
~*~*~*~
A/N: So, verdict please? Good/bad/middle? This is the first fic I've posted so I'm dying to see feedback. Go on, the review button is just down there.