The Black Sheep: Epilogues
It had taken three days and a change of coach to get from Sto Kerrig to Brindisi. Emmanuelle had assured herself of Balthazar's compliance by impounding the money he had legitimately won for himself in the casino, making it clear he had to get past her if he planned to steal it back and then vanish into the countryside. Besides, she also carried the brown envelope of family iconographs that she guessed were of irreplaceable sentimental value to the old grafter. This too was a guarantee of his co-operation. Specially since she had continued his education in gambling sensibly and responsibly, to pass the time on the journey.
Especially since she had explained exactly how they had been able to take the Sto Kerrig casino for so much, nearly ten thousand dollars between the four of them, with such seeming lack of effort.
It had been down to observation, intelligent guesswork, a dash of intuition, and…
"When not maintained properly, mon brave, a roulette wheel loses its perfect balance. It goes off true centre, and develops an imperceptible wobble. Most casinos guard against this and re-bias their wheels frequently, to guard against clever and unprincipled gamblers who watch and observe and take careful note of which parts of the rim it favours, when the ball comes to rest. But in a place like Sto Kerrig, where people spend afternoons in the kaffeehuis smoking strong tobaccos for recreation, these are the little details that get lost, or which you reassure yourself may wait till tomorrow. So as not to arouse suspicion that I was merely watching for such a pattern of bias and waiting to seek to break the bank, I took care to place small and insignificant side bets, some which won, and one or two which lost. And when the time was right to seek bigger stakes for bigger wins, I did so to the best of my ability. And to assist you in recouping your debt to my friend."
Balthazar nodded, dumbly. He was glad they were only playing demonstration rounds of various card games for small coins, just to teach a few things. This woman would be lethal playing for real.
One of the other passengers in the coach suggested a game for real money. Emmanuelle looked gravely at him, then turned back her lapel to reveal her Gamblers Guild badge.
"I have no objection, but as a Guild member I would be forced to play à l'outrance." She said. "Guild membership requires nothing less. Now do you still wish to play for "real money", mon ami? No? As you wish. Many Guild members would not have revealed themselves. You are fortunate today! You may, however, observe the lessons I am teaching."
And then, after three nights of separate rooms, and Emmanuelle warning Balthazar that should he dare try to enter her chamber it would strain their friendship, they were on the harbourside at Brindisi. Emmanuelle had gone off to talk to the Captain and the Ship's Purser, having first seen him into the comfort of a well appointed stateroom. As he was relishing the comfort and glad this was by no means a pig-boat, she returned.
"Madame, you are holding monies in custody for me?" he asked, politely.
"No longer." she said, shrugging. "Speak to the Purser(1). I have lodged a large sum of money with him sufficient to your needs while aboard ship. This will be a six-week voyage, after all. To guard against you getting into a card game with wily matelots and losing it all in one mad night, the Purser is under strict instructions to pay you a weekly wage of no more than a hundred dollars per week. Now that is over twenty times the average wage of a worker in Ankh-Morpork, mon brave. It will be ample for you! This will be strictly accounted for and the balance paid into your hand on arrival. This is a letter from the Embassy confirming that the balance of money you won in the casino has been credited to the Staadtsbank in Piemburg and paid into the keeping of your brother and his wife, Andreas and Agnetha Smith-Rhodes. They will keep it for you and disburse it as they see fit. That is a guarantee that you will arrive home to their keeping and supervision, mon ami. Ambassador van der Graaf insisted on that!"
And then, to his surprise, she hugged and kissed him.
"You were more enjoyable than I thought, mon ami!" she said. "Helas, were you twenty years younger…"
"Or you thirty years older!" he said, gallantly. "So this is au revoir?"
She looked gravely at him.
"Non, Balthazar. Assuredly not. But one day I might wish to visit Rimwards Howondaland, for pleasure if not business."
Leaving, she added, "Write to Johanna. She will want to know how you get on."
She watched the ship leave. It was the final detail in the contract, anyway.
Perhaps clacks the Guild to confirm contract completion. Then a day or two here. Then back to Ankh-Morpork on the fast coach. Or, as I feel I have earned it, Klatchian Carpetways operates a passenger carpet service from the Klatchian embassy here. That will be fun. I have never flown before.
She had a delicious vision of enticing a handsome Klatchian pilot and inaugurating something called the… Third of a League-High-Club? That might not be a first, it must have been done before, but on a public passenger carpet?
She smiled. Brindisian men could be charming and attentive lovers, and every holiday needed a touch of romance…
Balthazar Smith-Rhodes watched the Brindisian coast, and a lifetime of working on the Central Continent, disappear. Maybe it is for the best. At least it will be warm. But ag, I never got to see the Balgrog. I would prefer it, to Barbarossa in one of his moods.
Then the thought of rounding Cape Fear gripped him. He winced. But that was a month away. There was dinner to come tonight. And a couple of older single women of about his own age were aboard. Kiff.
A week later.
Emmanuelle walked into the Raven House office and exchanged kisses with Johanna.
"Joan's a bit ennoyed with you." Johanna said, without preamble. "That postcerd you sent her, from Sto Kerrig? She opened her morning mail in front of her essembly cless, and of course they got to see the picture on the beck before she did!"
"Quel dommage!" said Emmanuelle, softly, as she unfastened the money belt she wore. She started counting notes out, high denomination dollar bills. After a while the notes themselves took up the count.(2)
"Contract completed."she said, as the last of the recovered money piled up on the desk. "Your rogue uncle is alive and well, although I fear your father will have strong words with him when he arrives."
"I suppose I'd better pay you off, then." Johanna sighed. She passed over two fifty pence coins.
"Total contract fee: one dollar. Fifty pence to you end fifty per cent Guild Tax to Mr Wimvoe so he can balance his books, he frets otherwise!"
They had concluded the lowest possible contract fee for the job. It had raised eyebrows, but a deal between two Guild members is an inviolable contract in itself.
"Emmie, strictly speaking, you are entitled to twenty percent of monies recovered es a bonus!" Johanna reminded her. Emmanuelle shook her head.
"No need, cherie. I did it for a friend, and besides, I had a few good nights in the casinos. The money is all yours! And did Alice and Vinnie get their postcards?"
"I heard Miss Maccalariat from the Post Office clomped round end complained directly to Lord Downey about filth end depravity being sent to the Guild via her Post Office. End Young Meroon, the post-boy, hed to go end hev a cold shower!"
Johanna looked disapproving for a fraction of a second. Then she said "Welcome home, Emmie!"
"Thank you" Emmanelle said. Then she added, out of mischief, "Poupette."
The very last word
In a cavern deep in the heart of the Disc, He awoke from the sleep of eight thousand years, the first awakening since the great wizard and those bloody Heroes had locked him in this cavern during the climactic battle of the Dark War.
As His fell senses returned, He sensed rather than heard the clang of picks and the scrape of tools deep in the earth. He roared a soundless scream of anger and reached for His whip and sword. Sitting up in His prison cell of ages. The whip whoomphed into red flame.
Sodding bloody dwarves, waking me up at this time of aeon! I don't know, just as you drop off to sleep the little bastards come prospecting near you and you'll never be able to get some eyes-down for at least a thousand years!
He wanted to go on the rampage and stomp and stir-fry a few Dwarfs… no, what would be really elegant would be for them to break down the walls of His cell, all by their little selves, and then He'd finessed that sodding spell, as it could be said others had freed Him….
He suddenly felt weary and sleepy. He switched his whip off to conserve the oomph, and laid down to sleep again.
OK, maybe in a couple of millenia's time, then…
He paused and sniffed the psychic air.
Funny, there was a little prompt there, something about the last Balgrog-Hunter having left the continent.. ah well, bear it in mind for when I finally get up.
And Smothgog, last Balgrog to trouble the Disc, rolled over and went back to sleep in his prison of millennia.
Four miles up and a hundred Turnwise, the Dwarfs continued tunnelling in their search for gold and silver and element 117…
(1) The Purser is the ship's officer who deals with its monies and finance. And yes, the word is related to "Bursar".
(2) In Making Money, Teemer and Spools, printers, propose building in thamatological safeguards against theft and forgery, including talking notes…