A War In Clowndom - 5
Witzkreig
Dariella Morgendorffer was torn between relief and anger and was loudly expressing both. It came out as a rush of strident older-sister-made-embarrassed-in-my-own-school-by- stupid-little-kid-behaviour-of-younger-sister semi-incoherence.
Johanna Smith-Rhodes looked down at the two rats. She took time before she spoke. She crouched down, trying to get to their level so as to be less imposing and intimidating. The two rats regarded her in return, without fear or deference. It looked like a zoologist assessing an interesting natural phenomena. From both perspectives.
"Rattus Hubsvenskannicus. Brown." she said, at length. "End I fency one of you is a cross-breed with the Egetean Bleck."
"Howondalandian White." replied Cherry Blossom, sarcastically. "Sub-species of Homo Sapiens. Known for its aggressive behaviour and dominant traits. Does not mix with the Howondalandian Black. Territorial struggles inevitable where the two strains meet. I did Zoology too."(1)
Johanna frowned, then smiled broadly. She wasn't used to wildlife that talked back. Behind her, Joan Sanderson-Reeves and the porters tried to keep very straight faces.
"Ja. Thet is fair." she said. "Excuse me. I hev never encountered sentient rats before. It seems I hev much to learn!"
"Is it true you keep rats in captivity at your Zoo?" demanded Dubbin. "I smelt them when we passed by!"
Johanna decided not to mention the lab rats she bred at the Animal Management Unit.
"Thet is true." Johanna admitted. "We hev seventy-seven representetive types of rats, capybara, coypu, mice, voles, shrews, rebbits, end other related rodent species. In my defence I will say ell are well-treated, hev their medical needs looked efter, are kept free from predetors, ellowed to breed, end fed a good veried diet. Besides, if I understend you both, they are ell whet you call keekee end show no signs of edvenced sentience. If you wish, when time ellows I cen show you."
"Great!" Cherry Blossom said, with a hint of wariness. "A day out to the Zoo. Then straight into a cage, sorry, a habitat, labelled "Überwaldean Talking Rats - New Attraction"?"
Johanna appeared to consider this for just too long. Then she said,
"No, you will both be ellowed to leave efterwards! You are sentient creatures, efter ell."
"She doesn't keep orang-utans." Joan said, helpfully. "Strictly forbidden! Or the Librarian would turn up with bolt-cutters and a bad attitude."
"He doesn't need bolt-cutters, Joan." Johanna corrected her. "He'd just rip the fence down with his bare paws end shout "Ooook!" (2)
"And another thing. Do you realise not only that you're embarrassing me in front of my teachers, and it'll be years before I ever forgive you for this, Erika Morgendorffer, you nearly got somebody inhumed out there who'd gone out of her way to help you?"
"Ladies?" Joan said, mildly by her standards. "I realise you're overjoyed to see each other again, and you've got some catching up to do, but do try to keep the noise down, will you?"
"Yes, miss. Sorry, miss." Dariella said, submissively.
Johanna smiled and spoke, gently. She had learnt how to deal with girl pupils and considered this situation needed to be treated in a relaxed and informal way.
"Miss Erika Morgendorffer. Please eccept if I eddress you es Morgendorffer Minor, it is the conventional way of dealing with related pupils et this school, end is not meant to be dismissive or otherwise demeaning. Efter ell, my younger sister is now a pupil here. She is known es Smith-Rhodes Minor, so es to distinguish her from Miss Smith-Rhodes, the teacher. My colleague Miss Sanderson-Reeves hes summarised your story to me. I believe whet you hev to tell us is of great importance end must be related to the Derk Council. But first. You hev been on the road end largely sleeping rough for several days. I mean no offence, but frenkly, your clothes ere dirty end your body does not smell too fresh. Your erriving here et ell displays commendable resource end ebility end I respect thet. Before we present you to some very important people, I em sure you will wish to look your best. I propose to offer you an opportunity to bathe end change clothes. You will therefore follow me. Your friends may accompany you. I find them both intriguing end emusing! Morgendorffer Major, you may come with us. Miss Sanderson-Reeves?"
Joan stood up. "I should go to the Infirmary." she said. "I want to check on Stephanie's condition, for one thing. And if Alice has found out and come back to the Guild, she will need somebody to calm her down and watch her. Igorina didn't want her getting under her feet in the operating theatre. Or whoever's feet Igorina currently happens to be standing on! I'll also get a message to the Master. I think he's up at the Palace at the moment."
The two rats hopped into Erika's pockets and followed Johanna into the Guild proper. Erika had never seen such a huge building complex before. Neither had the rats. They wondered how big the resident keekee population was. In a human warren this big, there had to be a parellel keekee society. There always was. Dubbin wondered if there was any talent to be scouted here. This was a place of education and learning, after all, and human traits tended to be mirrored in the keekee living closest to them.
"Mr Lipwig, I was wondering if you can shed any light on the little irregularity we have noticed in Überwald?" Lord Vetinari asked, genially. "it would appear to be within your professional remit as Postmaster-General, after all!"
Moist von Lipwig sighed. It was turning out to be one of those days. He turned the little irregularity over in his mind. Mr Groat, the Assistant Postmaster, had been going spare with rage that a fundamental law of Postmanship was being flagrantly broken. Two, in fact. Miss Maccalariat, a woman whose family had originally come from Überwald and who embodied many of the fine characteristics of Überwaldean womanhood, was also going round with more of an expression of pursed-lipped disapproval than usual. (3)
Moist did what any half-intelligent chief executive would do in these circumstances. He delegated the answer.
"Perhaps our Head of Statistics should answer, sir." he said. "Stanley?"
Stanley Howler shuffled sideways, in the manner of a runner from a pea-plant reaching out to colonise new soil.
"Well, sir, a statistical analysis of incoming mail received from Überwald based on a mean figure derived from averaging out the previous twelve months so as to provide a valid base tends to be indicative of a statistically significant shortfall in expected delivery levels." he said. Vetinari waited, patiently. After a short pause, Stanley realised an enhanced contribution was necessary.
"Mail out of Uberwald is lower than we should expect." he said.
"Have you any idea why this is so?" the Patrician probed. People like Stanley were valuable. Getting information out of them was like pulling teeth, however.
"Sir. It is important to be aware that not all mail out of Überwald is being affected." Stanley said. "On seeking to investigate in more detail, applying more rigorous algorithms and subjecting the figures to Möghliche's Theorem (4), it became apparent that mail from most parts of Überwald, that which passes through the main sorting office in Bönk and proceeds by express barge up the Schlitz, is unaffected by statistical deviation. The problem lies in mail passing through the sorting office at Müning from its outlying feeder towns. Very little appears to be leaving Müning. That which we are receiving shows regrettable signs of having been tampered with. It appears to have been opened and resealed. The Postmaster has had to instruct Miss Maccalariat to order additional supplies of the tape and outer envelopes we use, with the standard apology message printed on that the postal item has been damaged in transit."
Vetinari nodded.
"Müning. And its remote outlying towns such as Bad Blintz, Bad Seltz, Bad Schmell, Bad Zeiten, Bad Sauerstoff, Bad Sprudeln, and many others. Interesting. Do we have an idea as to what is causing it? Commander Vimes?"
"Nothing yet, sir." Vimes said. I have made enquiries with Police-General March. He has assured me he is investigating, but considers his police presence there might need to be backed up by more experienced officers.(5) He's despatching them, but this will take time. I suspect he thinks something's going on up there."
Vetinari smiled, briefly.
"Lord Downey, your field people are usually very astute. What reports have you received from your Müning bureau?"
"I received a clacks this morning, sir." Downey said. "Which indicates the clacks is still running true. My Bureau Chief considers nothing out the ordinary is happening. The Guild of Clowns still effectively controls the city, as you might expect where they are the main industry and practically the sole employer. The Burgomeister and City Council are Clown-sponsored and as usual are keen not to make waves."
"Remind me, Lord Downey. Your Guild representative in Müning is still…?"
Downey sighed.
"Mr Wetterarscht, sir."
There was a snigger, hastily cut short.
Vetinari steepled his fingers.
"I have asked Lady Margalotta for her opinion." he said. "She is usually enviously well informed on the social and political situation in all parts of Überwald. Alas, she informs me her representative in that city is not of the highest acumen and talent. She apologised, but said she has to ensure the least able people in her service, to all of whom she feels a duty of care, are placed in positions where any potential for damage is minimised."
There was an embarrassed pause. Vimes sensed a pattern emerging.
"Do we have a consulate there, sir?" he asked.
Vetinari looked sharply at him.
"Our consul is the Right Honourable Sir Michaelmas Selachii." he admitted.
"Him? But he's a blithering idiot!" somebody exclaimed. Vetinari sighed.
"My thoughts concur with the Lady Margalotta in many respects." he said. It sounded like an admission.
"A shame Doctor Whiteface isn't here." said Mr Boggis of the Thieves' Guild. "He's bound to know."
"I did not invite the good doctor, as I am aware he is still seeking to assert his authority over dissident members of his own Guild." Vetinari said. "I will be meeting with him this afternoon. He may have information, especially concerning the vexing and unresolved situation concerning the renegade Brother Japester. Who we know conclusively has not re-surfaced in Quirm or Brindisi."
At this point Vetinari's personal secretary Rufus Drunknott entered. He spoke in a low voice to his master.
"An urgent message has arrived for Lord Downey, my Lord" he said. "the messenger is most insistent that he be seen immediately. It originates from Miss Sanderson-Reeves, I am given to understand."
Downey looked up, sharply.
"May I be excused, my Lord?"
Vetinari nodded.
"By all means." he said. "The acting Guild Mistress would not have sent a runner if she did not consider it an urgent matter. We will wait for you."
Downey winced. Any association of the name "Miss Sanderson-Reeves" and the phrase "Guild-Mistress" in the same sentence made him uneasy. For one thing, he knew she was a far better poisoner than he was. And she made a point of pouring the tea for everyone at Dark Council meetings.(6)
The rest of the invited assembly waited in silence and strained to listen to the whispered conversation. At one point Downey clearly exclaimed "On our own doorstep? And one of Boggis's people?" Then Downey came to the door and asked if Mr Boggis could be excused for a few moments. Vetinari shook his head.
"I think not. If the important message is not just internal Assassins' Guild business but also affects another major Guild, then it may well be City business. I think we should all hear the message."
Downey and the Guild messenger came into the Oblong Office. Then everyone heard what had happened to Stephanie Gibbet.
"I must ask you to understand that this was not an Assassin contract." Downey said. "Mr Boggis, miss Gibbet is well thought of and is a friend of the Guild. We would have had no reason to."
"Friend of the Guild." somebody murmured. "Well, that's a new way of describing it! Alice Band is going to go absolutely bursar! "
"I never thought it was for an instant." Boggis assured Downey. "Besides, your lad says it was bloody clowns what did it. If this is so, I want a word with Whiteface!"
"Killer clowns?" Vimes erupted. "Not on my bloody streets!"
"How is Miss Gibbet?" asked Mrs Rosie Palm. "She's a lovely girl!"
"She's still alive." Downey said. "Barely. Matron Igorina is dealing with her. She may live, then."
"Such a shame!" sighed Rosie. "She was such a pretty girl!"
Vetinari looked grave.
"We have a prominent and well-regarded Thief." he said. " A rising star in the Guild. Well-liked by her pupils. A most accomplished athlete and edificeer. And one of a group of women who recently proved that female performers were capable of bringing new talent, fresh life, and original thinking to the circus disciplines. Which I witnessed first-hand."
"And we also witnessed that their performance caused unrest and schism in the Guild of Fools and Clowns." Downey added. "Indeed, an attempt on the life of one performer was made on the day itself, blatantly, in the open."
Vetinari expressed agreement.
"And today one of those women was attacked in the street. Attempted murder. A Thief, assailed by throwing knives outside the gates of the Guild of Assassins. As if to drive dissension between those two Guilds. The assailants are dressed as Clowns. Hardly inconspicuous. It also points far too neatly at the Fools' Guild, as if to draw the ire and wrath of Assassins and Thieves alike. A war between three major Guilds would not be good for this city."
Vimes said, thoughtfully,
"We'd better get the word out to all the women who were there on the day that there could be rogue Clowns out to kill them." He tried to recall names and faces. "The Assassins can look after themselves, I suppose."
"We will guard our own, Sir Samuel." Downey assured him. "Noblesse oblige." Although an undisclosed thought was prompting him that if any rogue Clown wanted to take a shot at Joan Sanderson-Reeves, it could be very regrettable… obviously the Guild would exact vengeance afterwards. He filed the thought away for consideration later.
"Hold on. Three of them work for the Fools' Guild, don't they? They'd be obvious soft targets. I'll tip off Jack. He might be a bastard, but he's got copper instincts."
Captain Jack Clapstick headed the Fools' Guild internal police. Vimes knew he took a very dim view of Clowns trying to kill each other, especially in the performance arena. Jack would not relax his opinion were it to be a female guild member who was under such attack. In his way he was a fair and impartial upholder of Guild law under properly constituted authority. Which was Doctor Whiteface.
" I concur. Drumknott, take a message for Doctor Whiteface, would you? That he is advised to take pro-active steps to ensure the personal safety of Miss Dolores Estefaña Chiliconcarne y Fajitas y Cuidado de las Llamas de Gutierrez, mrs Deborah McGee, sundry Dorises, and perhaps also Miss Drapes, as I am aware objections were raised to a woman being appointed to the Council of Mirth. He is to note there is no great rush in implementing such precautions. Thank you."
Boggis was writing a hasty message. Vetinari politely inquired.
"Just making sure, sir. I want two big good lads looking after Betty. Anyone attacks her, they go through her bodyguards first."
"Ah, the Ringmistress on the day." the Patrician said. "And your Economics teacher. She has a talent for keeping money in circulation! Drumknott, as a courtesy, see Mr Boggis's message is conveyed to the Thieves' Guild, if you would? "
Vetinari paused.
"I believe we have discussed the Müning situation as far as we can, for now." he said. Let us now move on to other City business. We can return to the Clowning issue as new information reaches us. Commander Vimes. I hear there was an incident at Hobson's Livery Stable earlier this morning? My information is that a goodly proportion of its resident rats all decided to leave at once, causing consternation in neighbouring streets."
"That is so, sir". Vimes said, and fell back on the policeman's emergency lifebelt. "Inquiries are proceeding."
"Many of those rats chose to invade a meeting of the Womens' Insistitute".(7) Vetinari continued, remorselessly. "Causing pandemonium. All the cakes were eaten and jars of jams and preserves were broken open and devoured. Reports were made of a rat-piper in the vicinity. Or at least, a rat harmonica-player. Has she been apprehended? You know my views concerning rat-pipers in this city."
Vimes sighed. It was one of those days.
Johanna led her small party up a maze of stairs and corridors.
"Es we ere pessing your dorm, Morgendorffer Major, I would like it if you were to find your sister a clean end fitting school uniform, in epproximately her size. Something to wear while her clothes are being weshed end repaired. Bring it to my epartment. Thenk you." she said. They walked on.
"It will be easier if you use my beth." she said. "There is no rush. A message hes been sent to the Guild Master esking him to return from the Pelece to see you. If he cennot, I will take you to the Pelece. I will wait outside the bethroom. If you are hungry, there is some basic food in my kitchen."
Johanna generally left her door unlocked. She could trust most of her students. As she wasn't an idiot, she checked that the almost imperceptible hair was still there, between door and frame; had anyone entered in her absence, it would have been disturbed. It was intact. She gestured Erika to go in first, and followed.
"I will provide eppropriete refreshments to your two friends." Johanna said. For now, the bethroom is through there. Put ell your clothes into the laundry beg and I will see to it they are dealt with. Hev you eny veluables in the pockets? Drop them on the table. They will be safe…"
Erika passed over her mouth organ and a pocket full of mixed coin. For some reason the rats did not want to leave her pockets. They seemed frightened…
"What's wrong?" she asked, trying to extricate a roll of dollar bills from underneath Cherry Blossom, who was gripping the pocket lining with teeth and all four sets of paws.
"Can't you smell them?" the rat hissed.
"Who?"
"Oh. You can't. You're human…"
Then the scratching and shuffling noises in the background resolved themselves as two large dogs, emerging from sleep and trotting to welcome their mistress. Two very large dogs. Bigger than anything Erika had encountered before. And the most common breed in her homeland was the Lipzwiger.
"Bone Rat!" swore Dubbin, who raced for safety, climbing the wall swiftly above canine reach, Cherry Blossom quickly following.
The two dogs interestedly followed.
"Kaffee! Crème! Bly!" Johanna shouted. "Sjit!"
The two dogs obediently stopped and sat, tongues lolling and panting slightly. Johanna patted and praised.
"You may come down. It is quite safe." she said. "My dogs were bred for much bigger game. You are just a new thing they ere curious ebout. Besides, they respond to my command end if I say to them to leave something be, they obey. They ere elso gentle. I saw them with a kitten once. Small cets hev no fear, end this one they befriended. They come to the zoo with me. They hev seen many, many, enimels, end they know to behave around them."
Dubbin and Cherry Blossom came reluctantly down to earth. Crème, the paler-coloured lion dog, made to take a curious sniff.
"STAY!" shouted Cherry Blossom. Crème ignored her. The rat looked puzzled.
"That's never happened before!" she said, consternated. "Normally dogs respond to the word!"
Johanna laughed.
"They ere not Morporkian dogs!" she said. "The words of commend they respond to ere in Vondalaans. Try "BLY!" End "SIT!" is much the same in both lengueges."
While Erika was bathing, Johanna explained about Howondalandian Lion Dogs. Dariella returned with spare clothes. She stayed to pet both dogs and to get to know the rats.
"How are the Clan?" Dariella asked. "It's been ages since I was last at home!"
"Doing well, thriving!" said Dubbin. "Sardines is getting on, and he's not as nimble on his feet as he was, but his family are doing more and more of the stage-school choreography dancing thing. Lionel and Wayne and Kylie would say "hi" if they were here!"
"Is your father still Clan leader?" she asked. Dubbin grinned.
"Darktan? The only thing that'll ever stop him being Clan leader is the Bone Rat!"
Johanna listened. She'd heard vague rumours about a town in Überwald where Humans and Rats had come to a truce and were working together. But it had all sounded so incredible that nobody believed it. Dariella knew better than to talk about it, as nobody would believe her. She had been quite affronted that the other girls in her dorm had laughed at her for telling tall stories. Besides, even other Überwaldeans thought everywhere past Müning was impossibly remote, strange, and full of rural idiots.
"So. You ell came out of Enkh-Morpork originally. You were ell Awoken by some sort of megical eccident on the Unreal Estate. Ja, thet makes sense. End the great leader Hemnpork was persuaded by Dangerous Beans end Peaches, whom you revere es living saints, to lead you on your exodus to a plece where rets could live in peace and prosperity, free from fear. You were aided by a human, the Stupid-Looking-Kid, end…someone… you only refer to es Maurice."
Cherry Blossom shuffled.
"It all sort of gets a bit embarrassing, Miss, when it comes to Maurice." she admitted. Johanna nodded.
"End Maurice wes a scoundrel, but one whose grifting tricks enabled you to live, end who taught you ebout how the world works." she said. "Ja. I heve en emberressing oncle like thet.(8) Come to think of it, Oncle Baal once told me he'd heard strange stories ebout a cet celled Maurice who wes a legend among grifters end confidence tricksters. Baal said he wished he'd met a cet like thet. Then egain, my oncle Baal made money out of persuading gullible people thet Belgrogs existed."
"Don't they?" Dubbin asked.
"Well, you cen't rule it out." Johanna admitted. "End I know a wizard who'd quite like to telk to you. Ponder, thet is, Professor Stibbons, hes been charged with cleaning up the Unreal Estate end meking it safe for people to live on. Ell people, including rets." she swiftly amended.
"That's what Darktan sent us here to find out, miss." said Cherry Blossom. "We're safe now. But it bothers him that there are likely to be others. New rats who Awoke the way our parents and grandparents did. From eating stuff thrown away on the Unreal Estate. When we came of age, he asked if we'd come back here as, you know, a mission. To find those new rats, who must be as confused as our parents were. To tell them what's going on and why, and either lead them to the Island, or help them make sense of it here. Oh, and to look after Dozy and see she came to no harm."
"End Dozy is Erika?" Johanna said. "Ja, I see. The Island is your word for Bad Blintz, yesno?"
"You got her here safely". said Dariella. "Thank you."
"A rat's gotta do what a rat's gotta do." said Dubbin. "Besides, it's implicit in the Agreement. You're from the Island, Rat or Human, we look out for each other."
"And Dad, he told us one minute he was eating from a tin of boot polish, the next, he was cogniting. He said the Awakening was quite a shock. Some of the older ones died of it!" Cherry Blossom added.
"He took his name from the boot polish?" Johanna asked. "Thet possibly explains your names?"
"Family naming tradition, miss!" said Dubbin. "Our sister back on the Island is called Kiwi. Then there are the twins, Gaiter and Supple. And our brother Hobley."(9)
Then the Dark Clerk arrived. Dark Clerks were mainly graduate Assassins who worked for the City. Johanna welcomed her warmly.
"How is life et the Pelece, Sharon?" she asked. "Sit down. Push the dogs eway, if they're a nuisence. Tea? Coffee?"
Sharon Higgins, from somewhere underneath two large dogs who were delighted to see an old friend, grinned.
"Deadly boring, until today, Johanna." she said. "In the vernacular, the manure has made contact with the clacks tower. His Lordship wants me to advise you a meeting of selected City Council advisors has been convened for two o'clock. In the circumstances, he does not want to risk your guests being out in the street for even the shortest distance, even escorted by Assassins, so he wants it here, in the Master's Office. He requests you bring the young ladies from Müning, and the, er, other visitors, to tell their stories. And if the young lady from Überwald were to refrain from anything that might be mistaken for rat-piping, which is an imprisonable offence in this city, his lordship would be very much obliged."
Joan Sanderson-Reeves found Alice Band sitting in the waiting room adjacent to Matron Igorina's surgery. She was relieved that Alice did not apparently appear to have gone bursar. But she was sitting, un-naturally calm, looking into nothing in the direction of the closed surgery door. Another patient, a student Assassin, was sitting as far away as he could get, looking pale and uncomfortable and holding his right hand in a blood-stained towel. Any discomfort from his wound, however, was outweighed by sharing the room with Alice in her current state of mind.
"She's in the best possible hands, Alice." Joan said, without preamble. She took a deep breath and sat down next to her old friend.
"The best. If anyone can save her life, it's Igorina. That's what the Guild employs her for!"
Alice acknowledged her with the merest nod. Her eyes returned to the surgery door. Joan sighed. She normally abhorred excessive physical contact as jolly sticky, uncomfortable and distasteful. But just sometimes….
She put a motherly , or at least maiden-auntly, arm around Alice's shoulders and tried a hug. Alice felt as if she were made of rock.
Joan sighed again and looked around the bare, stark, room. There were the usual sorts of notices on the wall. Concerning things like the imperative need to cover your mouth when sneezing, reminders that in an environment shared by thousands of people, infections spread rapidly. Therefore wash your hands in soap and water after visiting the privy. Being Igorina, whose public health messages were pretty frank and direct, a line or two added This especially means males! I know you think you know where it's been and that this excuses you from washing afterwards. Well, you are utterly wrong! WASH YOUR HANDS!
Another notice, presumably aimed at older male pupils and graduate Assassins, discreetly advertised opening times at the Lady Sybil's clinics for Social Diseases, Anti-social Diseases, and Frankly Downright Embarrassing Diseases. An Igorina note added If you can't face taking it to me, for goodness' sake take it to somebody, as these things do not go away on their own. Do not die of shyness. Medical professionals have seen it all, and then some. We do not make moral judgements. And in extremis, I can graft on a new one.
Joan smiled. She noted that in accordance with the unwritten law of doctors' waiting rooms everywhere, a central table was piled high with dog-eared and out of date copies of almost-popular magazines, like What Coach? , Tepidity, The Lady's Home Companion, Wotcher!, and Oh, Alright, I Suppose. (10)
Joan removed her arm. She tried a different tack to get Alice's mind off it.
"Mr Bentley!" she said, loudly. The injured student jumped. On top of an unexploded Miss Band, this was all he needed.
"Am I to correctly deduce that you have come directly from Madame Deux-Epée's Swords class?"
Bentley nodded, shuddering slightly.
"How many fingers, Mr Bentley?" Joan inquired, remorselessly.
"Two, ma'am. And a half."
"Care to tell me how it happened?"
"Well, ma'am. We were just moving on from the old wooden practice swords. To real ones. With blades. And. Erm. I was steadying the scabbard with my left hand to make it easier to draw with my right. And. Er."
"And you pulled the sword up and out. Through a hand that you thought was holding the scabbard. Did you collect all the fingers?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Makes it easier for Igorina. But you've not done a damn thing about stemming the flow of blood, have you?"
Joan glared at him.
"Miss Band, we both did the Emergency Field Medicine advanced course. Joan said, briskly. "Matron Igorina is currently delayed by an emergency and may be some time. Let us ensure her next patient does not allow himself to bleed to death before she gets to see him!"
Alice shook herself back into the moment.
"Of course, miss Sanderson-Reeves. I'm sorry. I should have thought on."
"You had a lot on your mind, m'dear." Joan said. "No blame. Let's do what we can, shall we?"
Glad she'd found something to occupy Alice, Joan set to work. Between them they performed elementary first aid on the injured pupil, Joan talking Alice through the procedure.
Then Igorina came to the door of the surgery. Both women were not reassured by the fact her white surgical gown and apron were heavily stained with red. She pulled down her mask.
"Let me guess." she said. "Swords training? Got all the fingers? Good. Come this way."
She led Bentley to the door.
"Recent amputation. Simple reattachment." she said. "Routine stuff, really. Alice, Joan. We can talk while I'm working."
Igorina worked with Igor speed and accuracy. She realigned, set, stitched, applied nameless salves to restore health and promote growth, and eventually said
"There. No harm done. Flex! Good." She poked a pin into various fingertips.
"Ow!" said Bentley.
"Neural pathways restored. Good. I'll write you a note excusing you from swords and Edificeering for a week. Do not place undue pressure on the fingertips for at least four days. I do not want to see you back here!"
"Just Swords, edificeering and sports, miss?" Bentley asked, angling for more.
"You're right-handed, aren't you, laddie?" said Joan, meaningfully. "You can still hold a pen and attend regular classes. Miss Band can take it on board you aren't allowed Edificeering for seven days. Anything else, you turn up on time for!"
Bentley departed, gratefully. The door closed behind him.
"How's Steffi?" Alice asked. Igorina patted her arm.
"She's stable. Almost out of danger. Look, she lost a great deal of blood. I'm glad the people who found her had the sense to leave the knife in. if they'd pulled it out of the wound thinking they were doing the right thing, it would have caused a lot more damage on the way out. A lot. Uncontrollable internal bleeding, for one thing. As it was, I only just got to her in time. Come with me."
Steffi was lying on her side in bed, breathing regularly but shallowly. She was, Alice noted with some horror, very, very, pale.
Igorina prevented her moving to the bed.
"I do not want the wounds to reopen" she said, softly. "That thick leather jacket absorbed a lot of the impact, by the way. If the blade had penetrated to the hilt, she would be dead. As it was, her right lung collapsed. The pulmonary artery was nicked and she lost a lot of blood. A lot. I managed to retrieve, clean and recycle some of the blood. Filtering and cleaning blood in these circumstances is essential, as it could have picked up impurities. I reinflated the lung - this has to be done so very carefully - and repaired the torn artery and chest wall. I have boosted her blood with artificial plasma, so the heart has something to pump. The bones broken by the knife have been restored and I have performed a degree of cosmetic surgery on the external wound. But she remains very ill and needs blood."
"Can you give it her?" Alice asked. "Can you replicate it?"
Igorina shook her head.
"No. Blood is special. The old method was to nurse the patient over some months and give her the sort of foods that encourage the body to make more blood quickly. The body knows what is needed and will work overtime to make new blood to replace the loss. But she needs something more. Alice, Joan, may I take blood samples from both of you?"
"Transfusion?" Joan asked. "But isn't that a bit hit-and-miss?"
"It has been attempted before, yes." Igorina said. "A healthy person is linked to the sick one by a canulated tube allowing blood to flow directly from their veins into the veins of others. This is heroic last-resort remedy. Sometimes the patient visibly thrives and lives, but sometimes they sicken and die. Igor science has been baffled as to why. But I believe we know now. May I take and examine blood from both of you?"
Igorina took blood smears from both and checked them under a microscope. She subjected them to several baffling-looking tests. Finally she said:
"Joan, would you give Stephanie some of your blood? The transfusion process is safe, and I will take no more than a pint and a half. Anything more would be dangerous to you. You will feel a little light-headed and dizzy afterwards, but your body will make up the shortfall within a fortnight."
"She needs more!" Alice said. "however much she needs, I'll give it. I want to give it!"
Igorina looked at Alice with sad sympathetic eyes.
"No, Alice." she said. "Your blood is wrong. It would poison her. It would clot in her veins and precipitate a fatal cardiac arrest. I know you love Stephanie and you'd willingly do anything for her. But this cannot be done. Listen to me. Not all blood can be mixed. We have identified four different strains which are randomly distributed among people. Some can be safely mixed. Others are fatally incompatible. Joan, your blood can safely go into Stephanie. Alice - yours cannot."
They returned to Steffi's bedside, Igorina explaining how research Igors had got the clues about blood typing and blood groups.
"There is an old Vampire lore." she said. "About not feeding from more than one person at a time. Apparently if a vampire is greedy and drains the blood of two separate humans in the same feeding, that vampire suffers inexplicable pain and agony. The species calls it "vampire indigestion". Igors who work for old-time vampires have noticed this happens as often as not in their Marsters. The vampires don't know why this happens sometimes, but not in every case. So they play safe. One feed, one human. Research Igors looking into the Zlobenian roulette game of the blood transfusion wondered if this offered a clue as to why some thrive, and some sicken further. We observed, we tested, and now we know about blood types. This makes blood transfusions less dangerous if we transfuse like into like. Joan, will you roll a sleeve up? Thank you. Sit down, make yourself comfortable. It will only take about fifteen minutes. When I judge enough blood has passed out of you, I will close the canula and stem the wound in your arm. A hot sweet cup of tea is mandated afterwards, by the way. And a biscuit, a plain digestive. Nobody knows why this is so, but it makes the transfusee feel better."
Joan sat, endured a brief ouch! as the needle penetrated her vein, and interestedly observed her own blood flowing out of her and into Steffi. The only Assassin she knew with a blood phobia had been that absurd little man, Wetterarscht. Apparently the Guild had packed him off, as an embarrassment, to some remote dead-end in Überwald, hadn't it, where he'd be out of sight and out of mind… she was jolly surprised he'd graduated, to be honest. She couldn't think of a less likely licenced Assassin… if the sight of blood made you queasy, then you had no business being an Assassin.
"This is banned in some countries." Igorina remarked, as she monitored the flow. "And by some religions. The Omnians consider it an abomination before their God. Constable Visit of the Watch puts out pamphlets declaring that any true Witness of the word of Om should have no truck with this."
She shook her head.
"And one of the new Igors at the Lady Sybil was deported from Rimwards Howondaland for breaking their absurd racial laws. Blood is blood, if it is correctly typed. Their secret police brought charges when he transfused the blood of a black-skinned human into a white-skinned one, as if that matters!"
"It does in Rimwards Howondaland." Joan observed. "Crazy country. At least, contrary to the song, we have met a nice White Howondalandian!"
"Most of the time." agreed Alice.
Igorina deftly pinched off the canula.
"No more, Joan." she said. "Stephanie needs it, but not at the risk of your health!"
"It's brought the colour back to her cheeks, anyway…oh, look!"
Steffi's eyes flickered open. They took in the hospital setting and the group around her.
"Don't try to talk too much." Igorina advised her, as she dismantled the transfusion kit. "You've just had a near-Death experience!"
"Alice?" Steffi said. Alice Band dashed forward and took her lover's hand. Her eyes were moist.
"Whoever did this to you," Alice vowed, "is mine."
Steffi grinned, weakly.
"I'm more worried about my jacket, to be honest." she whispered. "Igorina, did it survive alright? Leather like that cost me top dollar. Now there's a bloody great hole in it!"
Igorina shook her head.
"I regret I could not save the jacket." she said. "But it saved you, Stephanie Gibbet!"
"Steffi, I will buy you a new leather jacket." Alice said, tears streaming down her face. "The moment you're up and walking again!"
"Welcome back to life, m'dear!" Joan said, rolling her sleeve down. She felt slightly giddy and wobbly. "Igorina, you said something concerning hot sweet tea and a digestive biscuit?"
(1) Or as the humans at the Bad Blintz school put it, History, Politics and Sociology. The Rat pupils had a different perspective.
(2) Orang-utan for Let my people go! Johanna could speak passable Orang-Utan and had an arrangement with the Librarian concerning the care and welfare of Great Apes. This boiled down to (i) "OOOK!" - "no orang utans!" and (ii) "Oooook-a-ook!" - "Chimpanzees and gorillas - yes. They thrive on it, as long as the bananas keep coming." and (iii) "Ooook!" - "did I mention no orangs? I don't want to strain our friendship here!"
(3) The Makkalariat family of Überwald was respected for its administrative ability, its attention to detail, its adherence to established order and moral standards, and for keeping unspeakable handkerchiefs up its sleeves. (In the German translations of Discworld books, the name is transliterated straight as Makkalariat.)
(4) Möghliche's Theorem : states if the numbers appear to add up, it's probably right.
(5) What he had said to Vimes was: "Sam, you've got Colon and Nobbs, ja? And you give them light undemanding duties in places where they can't do any harm and they're out of the way and not impeding anything important? Well, I posted mine to Müning." Vimes had understood, immediately. Between police chiefs, some things require little explaining.
(6) Lady T'Malia usually suggested Joan poured the tea. She pointed out that it was best somebody else did this because of the ring thing. And Joan doesn't wear any rings.
(7) Like the Womens' Institute, only louder, and they don't go away.
(8) For more about Oncle Baal (Balthazar Smith-Rhodes, a.k.a. Howondaland Smith, Balgrog-Hunter) see my story The Black Sheep.
(9) Gaiter and Supple are listed in the Compleat Ankh-Morpork City Guide as boot polish makers. Mrs Hobley manufactures boot and shoelaces.
(10) Joan had once asked Igorina. Who had replied, off-hand, that she had an arrangement with the nearby newsagent, who'd only have to throw away old out-of-date unsold copies. Besides, if she were to put anything interesting out in the waiting room, it'd only get pinched.