A/N: This chapter gave me more trouble than I expected. I had been looking forward to this point in the plot for a while now, and yet when I came to it, I was completely at a loss of how to write it. So don't expect this to be good. And don't be surprised to see that it changes in the next few days as I redo it. (And yes, it's short... that's one of the problems with it. Waaah!)
Chapter 9 - Ce N'est Pas Bon
Neris stared up at the underside of a table. She felt extremely disoriented. "That was uncalled for," she grumbled.
"Sorry."
"You didn't have to be so VIOLENT."
"I said I was sorry."
"Oh, the regret. I feel so justified."
"I didn't know it was you, I swear!"
"You could at least help me up."
"Right. Right. No problem! Now..."
"What?"
"Where are you?"
Paj ran most of the way home, through the rain, with her cloak over her head. Her day had been wrong, all wrong. It was annoying, really. Ankh-Morpork was not her kind of place. Rough, grimy, untidy, smelly, unlucky... not like Quirm.
No.
Quirm was... worse, in ways. Ankh-Morpork was dirty, grungy. On the outside. But for all Quirm's clean streets and sweet winds, it was a pit of infestuous slime.
Well, admittedly, Ankh-Morpork was VISIBLY a pit of infestuous slime, but at least it kept its problems out in the open. Hung the dirty linen out for everyone to see, actually. Ankh-Morpork may have had a lot of dirty linen, but gods dammit, it was proud of it.
Paj fumbled through her pouch as she walked the last few steps to her door. The key shouldn't be that hard to find; it was an enormous piece of work, four inches of solid iron with the mother of all loopy things on the end opposite the teeth.
She found it at the bottom and tried to ram it into the keyhole irritably, cursing under her breath as she missed. The door opened before she could turn the key.
Paj stared for moment, astonished, before her features twisted and she thrust the key like rapier.*
"I can't BELIEVE this. Look at this stain. Just LOOK at this stain!"
"I'll help you wash it, okay? Now can we-"
"You didn't have to make me pee in my pants."
"... Ew."
"'Ew' is right. And it's your fault, jumping out like that."
"Didn't I say I was sorry?"
"And do you know how HARD it is to wash blood out of cotton?"
"Wonderful! I always wanted to know about the cleaning properties of different fabrics! Now can we-"
Dorfl stomped through a wall, his red eyes flaring in the orange heat. He stared down at Neris, who cringed.
"The Commander Wants You To Come Out," he said, his words quite literally set in stone. Dorfl turned, but barely. "You Have Found A Civilian."
Neris stared at the soot-smudged young man next to her, and swallowed. "Yes... yes, I have," she stuttered, trying to wipe sweat off of her forehead and only managing to smear it with ash. "We'll, uh, we'll follow you out, shall we?"
"Understood," Dorfl stated. He turned and made another hole in the wall beside his first. "Come. We Must Hurry."
The boy next to her hung back for a moment, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.
"What is it?" she whispered behind her hand, scowling at him.
"That's a bloody Golem!" he hissed back, squeakily. "It's not even ALIVE! How can it-"
Neris spun, scowling. "You're one to talk," she growled, cutting Dimitriev off in the middle of his sentence. He had the decency to look embarrassed, but shrugged and followed her when she moved to follow Dorfl.
He paused to light a cigarette on the dancing flames.
Vimes stood in the street, yelling at random people and watching the burning building like a hawk. Two Watchmen on his conscience now. He was just about ready to go in himself.
No, there they were.
Neris held her stomach and coughed while Dorfl tromped back to report to somebody. Vimes started. THREE people? But the family had said...
Constable de Sang and the blackened vampire held a whispered conference barely far enough away from the flames. Vimes started toward them angrily, swinging his arms. He had almost reached them when Neris gave a shriek of "WHAT?" and reared back, but the vampire grabbed her wrist, spread leathery wings, and took off, circling over the fire once before disappearing from sight.
Vimes swore.
_____________
* One of those long, thin swords used by noblemen for duels, war, and spearing things that are too far down the table.
Chapter 9 - Ce N'est Pas Bon
Neris stared up at the underside of a table. She felt extremely disoriented. "That was uncalled for," she grumbled.
"Sorry."
"You didn't have to be so VIOLENT."
"I said I was sorry."
"Oh, the regret. I feel so justified."
"I didn't know it was you, I swear!"
"You could at least help me up."
"Right. Right. No problem! Now..."
"What?"
"Where are you?"
Paj ran most of the way home, through the rain, with her cloak over her head. Her day had been wrong, all wrong. It was annoying, really. Ankh-Morpork was not her kind of place. Rough, grimy, untidy, smelly, unlucky... not like Quirm.
No.
Quirm was... worse, in ways. Ankh-Morpork was dirty, grungy. On the outside. But for all Quirm's clean streets and sweet winds, it was a pit of infestuous slime.
Well, admittedly, Ankh-Morpork was VISIBLY a pit of infestuous slime, but at least it kept its problems out in the open. Hung the dirty linen out for everyone to see, actually. Ankh-Morpork may have had a lot of dirty linen, but gods dammit, it was proud of it.
Paj fumbled through her pouch as she walked the last few steps to her door. The key shouldn't be that hard to find; it was an enormous piece of work, four inches of solid iron with the mother of all loopy things on the end opposite the teeth.
She found it at the bottom and tried to ram it into the keyhole irritably, cursing under her breath as she missed. The door opened before she could turn the key.
Paj stared for moment, astonished, before her features twisted and she thrust the key like rapier.*
"I can't BELIEVE this. Look at this stain. Just LOOK at this stain!"
"I'll help you wash it, okay? Now can we-"
"You didn't have to make me pee in my pants."
"... Ew."
"'Ew' is right. And it's your fault, jumping out like that."
"Didn't I say I was sorry?"
"And do you know how HARD it is to wash blood out of cotton?"
"Wonderful! I always wanted to know about the cleaning properties of different fabrics! Now can we-"
Dorfl stomped through a wall, his red eyes flaring in the orange heat. He stared down at Neris, who cringed.
"The Commander Wants You To Come Out," he said, his words quite literally set in stone. Dorfl turned, but barely. "You Have Found A Civilian."
Neris stared at the soot-smudged young man next to her, and swallowed. "Yes... yes, I have," she stuttered, trying to wipe sweat off of her forehead and only managing to smear it with ash. "We'll, uh, we'll follow you out, shall we?"
"Understood," Dorfl stated. He turned and made another hole in the wall beside his first. "Come. We Must Hurry."
The boy next to her hung back for a moment, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.
"What is it?" she whispered behind her hand, scowling at him.
"That's a bloody Golem!" he hissed back, squeakily. "It's not even ALIVE! How can it-"
Neris spun, scowling. "You're one to talk," she growled, cutting Dimitriev off in the middle of his sentence. He had the decency to look embarrassed, but shrugged and followed her when she moved to follow Dorfl.
He paused to light a cigarette on the dancing flames.
Vimes stood in the street, yelling at random people and watching the burning building like a hawk. Two Watchmen on his conscience now. He was just about ready to go in himself.
No, there they were.
Neris held her stomach and coughed while Dorfl tromped back to report to somebody. Vimes started. THREE people? But the family had said...
Constable de Sang and the blackened vampire held a whispered conference barely far enough away from the flames. Vimes started toward them angrily, swinging his arms. He had almost reached them when Neris gave a shriek of "WHAT?" and reared back, but the vampire grabbed her wrist, spread leathery wings, and took off, circling over the fire once before disappearing from sight.
Vimes swore.
_____________
* One of those long, thin swords used by noblemen for duels, war, and spearing things that are too far down the table.