Thanks to Minimog16uk and Nimbus Llewelyn for reviewing.
"Ook?"
"The Octavo: Explained."
"Ook?"
"Yes. Can you get it down?"
"Ook."
The Librarian shrugged resignedly. Vimes had gone back to Pseudopolis Yard, leaving Rincewind to mark the place where he had found the gap, and fetched the Librarian back to the Library. He had to open the book: as Librarian, he had the only key to the hefty padlock which kept it shut. He wasn't aware of the book as such; but as Librarian of a huge magical library, and, indeed, L-Space, he had the virtual key to every virtual book. In actual fact, there was only one key, but it seemed to stretch itself and mould itself into a suitable shape to fit the lock once you inserted it. It was rather puzzling; but the Librarian, as an unexpected simian, was used to strange magical occurrences, and he barely paid any attention to them anymore.
"Ook ook."
The Librarian took the key from the chain hanging around what couldn't really be called a neck, but couldn't be described as anything else, and lifted the book down from the shelf. It quivered in his hands, and he looked back anxiously at Vimes.
"Ook ook?"
"Yes, I need to look at it."
"Ook" he shook his head.
"This is Watch business" replied Vimes tensely.
"Ook ook!"
The Librarian held up his badge on a collar, and tried to stand to attention.
"Ook ook ook eek!"
"I have to know why somebody wants it. This could be important!"
"Ook ook! Ook eek ook! Ook ook-ook!"
Vimes rubbed his face wearily.
"All right. Do you have any idea what's in there?"
The Librarian shrugged.
"Ook ook-ook. Ook ook ook ook!" he waved his arms to show how incredibly vast L-space was.
"Okay, okay...what if you didn't open it fully? If you just peeked?"
The orang-utan paused, and then nodded.
"Ook ook."
He inserted the magic key into the padlock, and turned it carefully. It clicked. With very careful leathery fingers, he opened The Octavo: Explained.
"Ook!"
"What is it?" asked Vimes, moving to his side.
"Ook ook!"
The page was blank. The Librarian flicked through it, but it was all the same. The book was empty.
In a smoky den in the Shades, a meeting was being held, which Vimes and the Librarian would have been very interested. There were four people in the room: three sitting at a table in the centre, and one sitting on a chair in the corner. A gas-lamp sat in the centre of the table, casting heavy shadows around the room, and showing the clouds of smoke coming from the man sitting closest to the door. He was puffing on a foul-smelling cigar which caused the figure opposite him to wrinkle his nose, and turn to the door.
"So" began the cigar-smoker. "You have the book?"
The woman opposite him laughed.
"But of course, man. You do not think that I would get it wrong?"
Her voice was beautiful: dark and dusky with a hint of a foreign accent. The man gulped.
"Of course not, Delphine. You are the best...that's why I hired you." Another puff of the cigar. "Where is it?"
The woman nodded to the third person, who produced a thick, leather-bound book in chains. Delphine took it, and handed it to the cigar-smoker, who held it as though it could go off at any moment. Which it could. He placed it on the table.
"You have the key?"
She laughed huskily again, and took a silver key from around her neck. It was incredibly ornate: the silversmith had had to work overnight to finish it in time; but imminent death focuses one's thoughts more than anything else can. With an elegant hand, Delphine unlocked the book, and opened it carefully.
"All here" she whispered, stroking the page with slender fingers. "Every single page."
The cigar-smoker gulped, and placed a heavy canvas bag on the table. Delphine took it delicately and untied the string around the neck. Inside, there were several thousand Ankh-Morporkian dollars. She tapped her cheek.
"Only this? I thought we had an...arrangement."
"Yes, well..." he loosened his tie nervously.
"You don't have it?"
The man didn't answer. Delphine handed the book back to the third man, and clasped her hands together.
"I can give it back to you when you have the money, Mr. Rundon" she declared silkily.
"I – I..."
"We can do it."
This voice came from the fourth man, sitting in the shadows.
"Mr. Oben-" began the cigar-smoker.
The man waved his hand.
"Quiet, Arthur. We can do it, Miss von Antwerzen."
"You have the money?"
The man smiled.
"I have."
He produced a green canvas bag, and stood up, walking over to Delphine. She back away slightly: Mr. Oben was tall and handsome, but incredibly intimidating, even for a woman such as herself. With one hand, he took the book from her bewildered assistant, and handed over the bag with the other. Warily, Delphine opened it, and gasped. Inside was a fantastic ruby, glowing in the dim light offered by the gas-lamp.
"Is this...?"
"Real. Yes. Two hundred thousand dollars worth" answered Mr. Oben.
"Albard..." began Mr. Rundon.
"Arthur?"
Mr. Oben turned back to him, a pleasant smile on his face.
"Er, is this entirely wise? We don't need the book right now..." he trailed off.
"Yes. It is wise. You won't be needing this money, Miss von Antwerzen." Albard Oben removed the bag from the table. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you. Farewell. We shall contact you when we require more. Here is my card."
He pressed a white pasteboard card into her hand. It read:
Albard Oben
32 Shamlegger Street
Ankh-Morpork
"Er, thank you. I'll bear that in mind."
Mr. Oben and Mr. Rundon left the room, bearing the book and the canvas bag. They left Delphine von Antwerzen with her assistant, staring at the ruby in the smoky light of the den.
Angua prowled the streets in the rain, letting the icy water plaster her blonde hair to her head. She couldn't bear to think about what Sally had said, mostly because she knew that the vampire was right. She couldn't keep running away: but then, what else could a werewolf do? She could hardly stay in Ankh-Morpork, not when Carrot was being such a fool, but where could she go? Not to Uberwald: she'd had too many bad experiences there. Quirm was too respectable, Klatch was too hot...Perhaps Genua. Angua ducked into an alleyway and leant against the wall, her head pounding.
It was too much, all of this. It had been so much simpler before the Watch. Before Carrot. She closed her eyes, trying to forget about him. When she opened them again, she noticed a figure moving furtively out of a building. Her copper senses, as Vimes would have called them, immediately told her something was wrong. The figure was joined by a taller person, moving normally, and they began to walk down the alleyway, away from Angua. She slunk after them, using the shadows as camouflage, her nostrils flaring. How dare they interrupt her now? With a sigh, she walked into a smaller alleyway, behind a restaurant, and Changed, leaving her clothes behind her. She growled in the back of her throat, and trotted after them as the rain began to beat down harder.
