Chapter 11
Vetinari came neither that afternoon nor the next day to discuss the meeting. A tray of tea and figgins was brought to her office by a kitchen maid, but without a note, and his lordship remained conspicuously absent. On Friday he informed her briefly that the filter project was going ahead and that she was to meet with senior figures in the Guild of Alchemists to discuss it. There was little opportunity for Angelina to smile. Days added up to weeks and her expectations were disappointed. The Patrician showed no other signs of distinguishing her. They met on their usual friendly terms, but if anything, their casual conversations became fewer, his manner more reserved. Her initial flutter of excitement had given way to a state of anxious vigilance, which in turn, as no further hints emerged, left her feeling strained and low.
In Grune Angelina took two weeks' leave and visited her brother Conrad in the countryside. On the evening of her return, she sat with Henry in one of the public rooms at the Assassins' Guild, giving him a vivid account of the idiosyncrasies of Conrad's household.
"And can you believe that Karia is actually scared of the ostriches? The poor woman is like a prisoner in her own home, because she thinks the birds will attack her if she sets a foot outside the door."
"I can believe that easily enough. I've always wondered why Conrad would want to marry such a wet hen," remarked Henry.
"Oh, come on, Henry, she is a lovely woman. It is very inconsiderate of Conrad to subject her to such terror."
"She'll get used to it. I hope you set her a good example."
"What, like going out into the pens and being all at one and in harmony with the ostriches? No thank you. I didn't care about them one way or the other. I just tried to encourage her to be a bit more assertive in general. Anyway, apart from that, they seem to be quite happy together. So it is surely not for the likes of you and I to interfere."
"True enough," admitted Henry.
Angelina inspected her hands thoughtfully for a while, then she asked:
"And how have things been going here?"
"I took your friend Tvoolia out for dinner the other day."
"Oh, that was kind of you. She must have been a bit lonely, with Goldy being away at the moment, too. You are very considerate, Henry. Anything else?"
He grinned.
"Nothing of importance. I lost my favourite hat in a little scrap in Hide Park, and The Battle of Koom Valley was almost re-enacted in the city."
"Oh dear. That sounds like a lot of trouble."
"Tell me about it. It looked like it was going to be a real scuffle, dwarves and trolls assembled in even more belligerent gear than usual and the trolls did that strange thing with their clubs. But before the midden actually hit the windmill, they all just passed out. Totally pissed –"
"Watch your language, Henry!"
"Well, highly intoxicated. Gods know how that happened, but they say that Commander Vimes looked mightily smug. Ah, here's my friend!"
Henry raised a hand to greet the man who had just entered the room. The stranger was about forty, with sparkling eyes, a sophisticated moustache and a cloud of curly black hair. He had "Brindisian" written all over him. It was not a fashion Angelina approved of.
"Soulangi! Come and meet my sister. Angelina, this is my good friend Emilio Soulangi, finally returned from his travels."
"Signorina Winter!" exclaimed Soulangi and raised her hand to his lips. "We meet at last. I have heard so much about you that I feel I know you already. You are even more beautiful than I expected."
Angelina looked at Henry in bewilderment. She vaguely remembered her brother mentioning Soulangi along with a bunch of other friends, but never as a particular favourite. Even more beautiful than he expected? Perhaps the man needed spectacles. And surely she was not a frequent topic of conversation among Henry and his friends?
"How do you do, Mr Soulangi," she said and gently withdrew her hand.
Henry slapped Soulangi's shoulder.
"I was just telling Lina about the little almost-fracas between trolls and dwarves that we saw here the other week. We were all rather on edge, weren't we?"
Mr Soulangi twisted his moustache and winked at her.
"Winter, my friend, let us not tire the bella donna with tales of such uncultured people. Your bewitching sister must have more charming things to talk about. What is your favourite pursuit, Signorina Winter? Painting? Swamp dragons? The opera? How do you while away the hours? I am sure you are a highly accomplished woman."
"She's an accomplished harpy, aren't you, Lina?"
"I am an alchemist," replied Angelina. "I work for a living."
Soulangi looked startled for an instant, then he smoothly continued:
"Ah, the modern woman, she likes to have the best of both worlds. Can I get you a drink? Sherry? Port?"
Angelina asked for a glass of wine and spent the next half hour listening to Soulangi's flattery, before she found an excuse to leave.
When she next met with Henry, he suggested that Soulangi, who played the violin, should join their musical sessions. Angelina was pleased enough about this, given that it significantly extended the range of music suitable for them, but she suspected that Henry had other motives and was irritated by the idea that he was trying to fix her a date. She had been a single woman for long enough to conduct her life credibly without male interference, thank you very much. Henry just laughed.
Mr Soulangi was certainly as dashing as any assassin and quite adept on the violin; beyond that Angelina couldn't help finding him vain and insipid. He, however, took an instant liking to her and began to court her in such an ingratiating manner, that she soon considered him tedious beyond expression. His exaggerated and ridiculous compliments would have been a source of amusement to her, had she not felt harassed and pressurised by them. She wondered if he was a fortune hunter, who had misinterpreted her family's financial status. Through some engineering by Henry she found herself one evening engaged to go out for dinner with him, where he irritated her with frequent exclamations of "Ah, bellissima signorina!" until she could barely suppress the impulse to propel her pasta dish into his face.
Henry defended his friend, explaining that such was the way of Brindisians, but Angelina replied that while she was by no means implying that they should abandon their cultural heritage, there was no law that required her to like Brindisians. Still, Henry persuaded her to attend the Guild of Assassins' Summer Ball with Mr Soulangi. She obliged him because she knew how much he wished to show off his colleagues in front of his sister and vice versa. For her brother's sake she made an effort with her appearance and when she arrived at the magnificently lit ball room and saw the festive crowd, she began to feel cheerful, and glad of her elegant dress. She endured Soulangi's attentions with good grace, danced with him and anybody else Henry introduced to her and found to her surprise that she was enjoying the evening. Inevitably she noticed people's approving looks as she twirled round the room on Soulangi's arm and she could almost hear their thoughts. What a handsome couple! A good match! But for once she didn't mind. Here was music, here was beauty, and she wanted nothing else but to indulge in it for a little while.
----
"Mr Drumknott?"
"My lord?"
"A special investigation on Mr Emilio Soulangi of the Assassin's Guild, please!"
----
The last days of summer wore out and a cooler air blew into the weary streets of the city. Angelina plodded on, trying to muster enthusiasm for her duties. She felt dejected. Though it was some time ago that she had ceased to expect an immediate declaration by the Patrician, she had nevertheless clung to the idea that they were at least friends. But recently Vetinari had begun to look at her scornfully, if at all. He sent her memos where he would have previously come to talk to her. He had let her know that he no longer required weekly reports, only summaries of completed investigations. She hadn't spoken to him in two weeks. More than ever she strained her ears to hear his footsteps in the passageway so she could catch a glimpse of him through the window whenever he went out to his carriage. Well, soon her report on the initial tests of the filters would be completed and then she would have a reason to talk to him. Maybe she would be able to find out why he had changed his manner towards her. What an undignified manoeuvre, she thought, but when the day came, she failed in her resolution to simply hand in the report to Mr Drumknott.
Vetinari glanced up only briefly when she approached his desk.
"Ah, Miss Winter."
"I bring you the report on the implementation of the first set of filters, my lord," she said quietly and placed the folder in front of him.
"Splendid. I am looking forward to reading it."
He opened the folder and flicked through the pages, then laid it aside on a pile of paperwork. With a discreet cough he picked up his pen, then looked up at her and raised his eyebrow.
"Was there anything else, Miss Winter?"
"No, my Lord."
"Well, do not let me detain you."
Mortified, Angelina left the Oblong Office.
