The Discworld Tarot

The Page of Wands

The Page of Wands: in this context a young child, one with a thoughtful observant side, growing up and learning and exploring her world and making observations on the adults around her. The process of growth, learning and development in a very young child. One who is observant, inquisitive and very bright. And the influences on a young child's learning and development – the environment,the people around her, and the sort of education she gets. And Wands is the suit of fire and energy. Wands people can often be red-haired, impetuous, and spontaneous. Well, you don't want to say it outright to their face that you've heard red-haired people can be a bit temperamental. You may be proven right.

This one is for the people who read "Hyperemesis Gravidarum" and asked for more on exactly how the daughter of a Wizard and a career Assassin might turn out in later life. There's only so much you can do with a baby in a pram with regard to character development and personality. But scroll forward a few years and let us take a glimpse or two of a slightly older Bekki Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons…

EDIT: a review and a revision to sort out a few little points of style and presentation and to sort out those bloody typos that persist in creeping in. Also to add a few little details I missed first time out. And second time out. And the third time. Damn.

Rufus Drumknott raised an eyebrow. Lord Vetinari looked up and politely remarked

"You appear somewhat perplexed, Drumknott?"

His secretary hesitated before replying.

"Your choices for the Patrician's Birthday Honours List, sir. I understand the logic for most of the social preferments you propose to dispense. (1) But I have to admit that I would struggle to see exactly why Madame Frout should be advanced to the rank of D.A.M.E."

Vetinari smiled a mirthless smile.

"The logic of the situation dictates I should take a select group of worthy citizens, and dispense awards and enhanced social rank." he said. "When all other reasons are exhausted, exceptional achievement in one's chosen field of expertise, or else a life devoted to Good Works, are held to be sufficient. Advancing Madame Penelope Frout to Damehood is a worthy recognition of her tireless work and her contribution to the advancement of the educational profession in this City."

Drumknott's brows knitted in puzzlement.

"But, sir… Dame Penelope Frout, D.A.M.E.?" (2)

Vetinari smiled.

"Indeed, Drumknott. Other teachers and educators look at the pedagogical establishment she runs and the outstanding results she gets, and it serves as a lesson in how not to do it. Thus the quality of education in Ankh-Morpork inexorably rises year on year, when you take the broad view. And if all else fails, the honour could be viewed as due reward of her services in sustaining the distilling industry."

Susan, Duchess of Sto Helit, accepted the drink with a courteous "thank you" to Eve, the maid. She turned to her hostess.

"I'm sorry I wasn't available to take the governess role to Bekki." she remarked. "She's the sort of really interesting child I'd be delighted to work with. And you have to admit, from everything I've heard, life working for you and Ponder wouldn't be humdrum or boring."

Johanna Smith-Rhodes smiled. Despite everything she'd vowed, very loudly, on the night Bekki was born, she was currently pregnant again. Onvce you started a family, there appeared to be no way of preventing it from carrying on starting. At least she knew what to expect, and this time round there was currently no sign of a vicious gang of criminals, led by a man with a lifelong grudge against the Smith-Rhodes family, who were out to kill her. Not yet, anyway. This pregnancy seemed positively routine, after the unforgettable first.

Their eyes turned to Bekki, approaching her third birthday, who was engrossed in one of her favourite picture books. She'd found it in Daddy's study. This had led to strained words between her parents and Mummy had pointedly reminded Daddy that he'd signally failed to keep their child away from those things.

But Bekki really loved Baby's First Grimoire. It had been compiled when the University had been facing up to the problems inherent in very young children with magical ability. It was meant as a primer for very young boys who in the fullness of time would grow up as Wizards. The Librarian had found a copy and given it to Ponder on the birth of a child who most people at Unseen University, in defiance of probability and recent practical experience (3), had anticipated would be a boy.

Bekki, lively, and pretty, with her mother's red hair, squealed with sudden delight as she turned a page and a glowing image projected into the air, showing an animated sprite picked out in eye-staining primary colours, with a big happy child-delighting grin on its face. It was a shame the creature it depicted was a demonic being, in appearance halfway between an Orc and a goblin with added spiky bits. On a pile of skulls. It danced in the air for Bekki's engrossed pleasure.

Susan and Johanna shared a look. Neither was inclined to say "Was it meant to do that?" One was an Assassin and the other was Susan Sto Helit. Both were trained not to say silly or superfluous things. Of course the Book was meant to do that.

"Look, Mummy!" Bekki said, with the sort of insistency that said she wanted Mummy to share the joy of an exciting thing, whether Mummy wanted to or not. "Look!"

Johanna winced. Other little girls got books where the pop-up images, when you turned a page, were clever constructions of cardboard. For a long-gone wizard with an inclination to write appealing books for children, the instruction "add a few pop-up images" meant something else.

Bekki traced the words on the page with her finger. She was Ponder Stibbons' daughter too: she was a precocious reader.

"See Grindguts the Dis… dis…"

"Disemboweller." Johanna prompted her, with an internal wince.

"See Grindguts the Disebmo'llor dance. See him dance." Bekki read.

The illustrating sprite, prompted by the words, obligingly performed a little dance. Then the image looked at Susan Sto Helit. It flinched, then capered furiously.

"Bekki, love? She's here! Turn the page, quick!" it prompted her, nervously.

"Why are you 'fraid of Auntie Susan? She's… nice!" Bekki said, curiously. Susan noticed the hesitation. It suggested Bekki knew "nice" wasn't quite the right word, but had been unable to think of a better one and had fallen back on something safe. "Auntie" was also the fallback honorific, for most little girls, for all friends of Mummy.

"Turn the page! Please? I can come out later when… she… isn't here!" the sprite said, insistently. Bekki giggled and turned the page. Susan Sto Helit nodded at the sprite, in an "I am remembering your face. Possibly for later." sort of way.

"Annaliese's good. She's adapted." Susan said. Annaliese de Bouwervanspruiten was the nanny they'd employed shortly after Bekki's birth. Johanna would have preferred a girl with more experience, especially of the sort of complicated situations the child of a Wizard and an Assassin might generate, but Bekki's grandparents had been in residence at the time and had over-ruled her. Johanna's mother had stated outright that a girl who spoke a recognisable first language would be an asset. Bekki should grow up knowing some form of the mother tongue, and having it delivered by a cheerful and enthusiastic nanny who came from a solid farming family and therefore had both feet planted firmly in the soil – well, she is perfect, Johanna. So employ her. Johanna's father had said, mildly, that it was entirely up to you, of course, Johanna. But I'd appreciate having a grand-daughter I can speak to in Vondalaans, and she's going to be at a disadvantage when you bring her Home to meet her wider family and relatives, and she can only speak Morporkian.

Johanna had reluctantly accepted this last point. She had determined to at least try to bring her daughter up bilingually. A nanny who spoke a language only a harsh gutteral or three away from Vondalaans would be useful. Even if the language was, in fact, Phlegmish.

And Bekki was, she had found, completely at home with the idea of more than one language. Annaliese had blossomed into a perfectly competent nanny and had adapted well to the city and to the special demands of her household. Bekki adored her. It would be good to be able to retain her for Bekki's expected sibling. And Ponder, she thought, with pride, had adapted well to an extended household that tended not to speak Morporkian: he had picked up a sort of form of his wife's first language. But Annaliese had also generated a headache...

She put this out of her mind. Noting that the new page showed a Wizard looking for his familiar, a cat-like creature that at the moment was refusing to come out(4), she kindly asked her daughter to put the Book away, perhaps to play with her dolls or something. Susan's presence appeared to be worrying the Book: if its sprites were reluctant to come out and perform, then she might have a tearful daughter on her hands.

"She can help me feed the dogs, Madam?" Eve the maid suggested. Johanna smiled with relief. Bekki and the two dogs got on. It would take her mind off a reluctant Book.

"Can we get a cat, mummy?" Bekki asked. Johanna shook her head. It would have to be a confident cat to co-exist with the two dogs. She put the uncomfortable thought out of her head that both her pet dogs were getting older and at some point they wouldn't be there any more. They were now approaching nine years old and sooner or later Bekki would learn a painful fact of life. And losing them would hurt her too.

She watched as Bekki closed the Book and painstakingly re-locked the restraining strap around the front – Ponder had insisted she do this every time, or the magic would leak out, and we don't want that, do we? (5) Then Eve led her out towards the kitchen. She heard excited barking.

"You've sorted out the Situation with Annaliese?" Susan prompted her. She's a very good nanny. It'd be a shame to lose her."

"Ja. Thenkfully." Johanna said, registering the capital-S on Situation. It had been bound to happen. Or something like it. Her domestic staff were technically Embassy employees on detached service. As such they were still, technically, subject to the laws of Rimwards Howondaland. Johanna was officially bound to respect those laws and apply them to her servants. Most of the time she barely bothered, putting on a show that satisfied official attention whenever it looked her way. But Simeon, her Boy, had spent time with Annaliese out in the garden. Johanna had permitted her to turn over an empty plot and to grow sprouts there. They'd be sent to the kitchen when harvested, which was an asset, and it kept her nanny in touch with the patterns of agricultural life that she'd been born to. Simeon had helped her. In retrospect, this had been a mistake. The white nanny and the black Howondalandian houseboy were young people in their late teens. In retrospect, Johanna should have seen it coming. And it broke one of the fundamental laws of her country. One the Bureau of State Security didn't like at all.

At least Simeon had been coming to the end of his indenture to the Embassy. Johanna had asked for a private word with her uncle, the Ambassador, and conveyed her concern. They could only be together here if Simeon absconded, making himself a fugitive. They could never be together in Rimwards Howondaland. Uncle Pieter had sympathised. And had denied the boy extension of his contract in Ankh-Morpork, meaning he had to return Home. But he'd arranged a very good reference and a guaranteed suitable job for him to go to on his return. If Johanna could write a good employer's reference? Johanna had lost a good servant, and Annaliese had wafted about in a bereaved daze for a few weeks. Johanna was certain – well, reasonably certain – that the relationship had not got that much beyond hand-holding, kissing and the usual low-down-the-scale activities. But you could never be sure. And the absurd, but dangerous, Liutnant Verkramp of BOSS had expressed vocal discontent with the idea of a white employee living on the same floor of the house as black servants. Apartheid law was clearly being flouted here.

"Uncle Pieter helped make a plen. He pulled strings end got Simeon en introduction to a femily he knows. Who are decent people to their bleck steff end treat them fairly. I wrote a very good reference. Uncle Pieter essures me thet Simeon is heppy in his new position. In Ladysmith-Rhodes."

"Ladysmith-Rhodes." Susan said. The unspoken question hung in the air.

"Ladysmith-Rhodes.(6) Ja. My femily founded a lot of towns in Howondaland."

Susan changed the subject. She sympathised with Johanna about embarrassing family forcing roles and expectations on you that you would not, if given free choice, be inclined to accept. Nobody knew this better than Susan. And her occasional work in the family business gave her unlimited Disc-wide travel opportunities. She'd visited Rimwards Howondaland often enough to be aware of the social realities there. Black men did not have relationships with white women. Serious sanctions applied. The Bureau of State Security did the applying. And Johanna did not want BOSS opening an investigation into her. (7)

"I had a quiet word with Annaliese." Susan said. "About life needing to carry on and being strong in the face of setbacks."

Johanna indicated her thanks. Susan Sto Helit was the nearest thing to the head of a Nannies' Guild. She tended to use her social status to drop into those homes affluent or socially privileged enough to employ a nanny or a governess, and had both the force of personality and the right quietly assured manner to remind employers and nannies alike of what was expected of them. It was, she thought, like Adora Belle Dearheart with golems and goblins. Nobody mistreated either in this city, if they thought Adora Belle was likely to drop by for a quiet word.

"Who are you working for these days?" Johanna asked. Susan smiled a quiet little smile.

"When Grandfather isn't asking me to help out? It's been a little while now since I had any sort of direct work with children and to be honest, I'm missing it. I'll be taking on a contract with Penelope Frout for a year or so. She's been begging me to go back to her academy. Business hasn't been as brisk since I left, apparently."

Johanna looked thoughtful. The Frout Academy for Inquiring Young Minds was a famous children's school. In one very specialised sense, it was a renowned school.

"You know yourself that the Teachers' Guild requires all members to have up-to-date experience. I'll be doing the reception class this time. You know, the nursery school. Little girls and boys I have to get into the right frame of mind for when they move up to school proper. You said you want to send Bekki to Seven-Handed Sek's? Good choice. A year in a nursery class first would be good for her."

Johanna considered this. In normal circumstances, she wouldn't have dreamt of sending her daughter to Frout's. But if Susan was teaching the class…

"You know they're making dear old Penny a Dame?" Susan said, conversationally. "She needs somebody to bring her back to Disc again. I'm thinking I should make it a condition of employing me that I get to select at least some of the children in my class. If only so that Penny gets to deal with the mothers. Bekki, if you're willing. And if I speak to Doctor Bellamy and the Countess. All the children are the same age and they all play together, after all. It makes it easier for everyone if the kids go to the same school. Three Assassin mothers on the rolls."

Johanna smiled. The idea appealed to her. And when it got out that Susan Sto Helit was returning to Frouts, the list of applicant parents clamouring for a place for their child would be ten times longer than the number of available places. And Bekki would certainly get a good pre-school education.

"I brought some application forms." Susan said, helpfully.

Emmanuel-Martin de Lapoignard looked up from the toy he was engrossed with and felt a fire of nearly-four-year-old indignation. Playtime at the Frout Academy involved a good selection of approved toys for the little ones, with the emphasis being on co-operative and socially constructive Learning Through Play and the premature assignation of predetermined gender roles being Firmly Discouraged. Therefore there were no toy weapons, indeed no, and such dolls as were present were there on sufferance, provided that the little boys learnt to play at being a responsible, sharing, and co-empowered Daddy and did not leave the girls to do all the domestic work. Dame Penelope insisted on this. In practice, there was competition for the most desirable toys, and Emmanuel-Martin and some of the other boys had learnt how to dismantle a toy pram so that the handles and long struts could be employed as pretend swords. Miss Susan allowed this, so long as the little girls had at least two intact toy prams to push the dolls around in, and they re-assembled the prams afterwards.

Maman had one day looked in on the class. She had exchanged friendly words with Miss Susan, and then looked disapprovingly down at where her son was playing swords with Peter Hargarth.

"Non, non, non!" Maman had exclaimed, watching the pretend sword-play. "This will most assuredly not do at all!"

His mother had then spoken very firmly to the boys.

"If you are to play swords, mes braves, you will do so properly." she had said. Then she had drawn her own sword. Emmanuel-Martin was used to this in his mother. Peter and the other boys looked at her with sudden intent interest. He realised that they perhaps had mothers who did not normally wear swords. This novel idea interested him.

"Attention, mes petits." she had called. "Do as I do. This is the en garde position."

Miss Susan had watched with an amused smile on her face as Maman led her young class through some elementary positions and parries. She had even allowed Peter and the others to – very carefully and under supervision – try to handle a real sword, made in metal with a sharp edge. Peter had been surprised as to how heavy it was. Emmanuel-Martin, and his friends Bekki Smith-Rhodes and Davvie Bellamy, were equally surprised they didn't already know this. Didn't every Mummy own a few swords? The boys had not been able to stop talking about it for some time afterwards. Miss Susan had merely asked them not to talk about it where Dame Penelope could hear, as it would only distress her. And we didn't want a distressed Dame Penelope, did we? She tends to drink more of her special juice when she gets distressed.

But today, Parsifal Venturi, a larger boy disposed to being bossy, had grabbed an especially prized toy from the hands of Bekki Smith-Rhodes, appropriating it for himself. Bekki had looked consternated and surprised for an instant, then looked as if she was going to burst into tears. Emmanuel-Martin felt both sorry for her and angry at Parsifal.

And then Bekki screamed in rage and delivered a backhanded swipe that hit Parsifal square across the face and sent him reeling backwards. Then she reclaimed the toy. Miss Susan sighed audibly and went to her desk for the first-aid box. Parsifal felt his bloodied nose and began to cry.

"This is all very regrettable, Doctor Smith-Rhodes, Professor Stibbons." Dame Penelope said, as sternly as she could muster. There was a faint smell of gin in the air. Bekki, sitting on a chair too large for her, let her legs swing freely and wondered if the strange smell on Dame Penelope's breath was the special juice Miss Susan off-handedly referred to. Bekki thought it was different to the orange juice Miss Susan dispensed several times a day in small measured quantities(8). She thought that she didn't really want to try it herself. It was like the smell in oupa Barbarossa's breath and beard after he'd had a little drink from the special bottle. The bottle that made ouma Agnetha twitch with disapproval. Mummy sometimes had a little drink of the special water at the end of a long day. The last time oupa and ouma had visited from their home, a long way away, Mummy had had some big drinks of the special water.

Mummy and Daddy had been summoned to the School from their own work. Daddy looked nervously embarrassed. Mummy had her special face on, the one where Bekki couldn't tell what she was thinking.

Mummy looked sternly at Bekki. Bekki knew that look.

"Rebecka. Did you hit Persifal Venturi in the face end make his nose bleed?" Mummy asked.

"Yes, mummy." Bekki said, meekly.

"Did he deserve it?" Mummy asked.

"Yes, Mummy."

"Good." Mummy said, with satisfaction. Daddy winced.

Dame Penelope suddenly looked as if she needed a very large glass of her special juice. Miss Susan smiled serenely. Bekki wondered where the word "serenely" had suddenly come from. It was the right word for that sort of smile.

"It has to be said that Parsifal Venturi is a little bully." Miss Susan said. "In my opinion, being soundly thumped and reduced to howling snotty tears by one of the girls is good for him. Takes him down a peg or two, and no serious harm done. I saw no reason to intervene. It's best the children sort these little issues out among themselves. It all comes under the heading of Learning Life's Lessons Through Play, after all. Isn't that the mission statement of the school?"

"Well, yes, Susan. But I'm going to have to speak to the Venturi parents, and they're not pleased…"

"Let me be present, Dame Penelope."

Somehow, Bekki was not sure how, some sort of resolution was arrived at. She wasn't sure, but Miss Susan's special voice might have come into it at some point. And Daddy had said, thoughtfully, that he was sure they were now off the guest list at the Venturis for cocktails and dinners.

"So we're not getting a Hogswatch card from the Venturis this year. Ag, no great loss." Mummy had said, dismissively. "I teach others of their children, Ponder. End if in seven years I get Parsifal Venturi, he might remember being donnered with a bleddy good klap by a girl. Good lesson for him. If we get them from the Frout School, Ponder, they're bleddy herd work." She had added "Bleddy woman. Doesn't she think I hev better things to do than to be dregged from my own clessroom in the middle of the day? Or for you to hev to drop whetever you ere doing et the University?"

Mummy had suddenly smiled down at Bekki.

"Does your hend hurt?" she said.

"Yes, mummy. A little."

"Good lesson. It will hurt whetever you do. But if you are doing it properly, it is a sign the other person hurts more. I must teach you how to menege these situations, to evoid difficulties efterwards. I hed to learn this too. So did your tannie Mariella. End your cousin Johanna."

Bekki sensed Mummy was proud of her. That felt good.

Scroll forwards to Bekki, a year or two older. Tannie Mariella was her proper aunt, Bekki learnt. Her mother's sister, as opposed to a friend of Mummy or one of her official or unofficial godsmothers. Tannie Mariella was a graduate from the Guild School where Mummy taught. It sounded an interesting place, although there was some doubt as to whether she could attend there. Periodically, a white-haired kindly-seeming old gentleman, who Mummy treated with deference, called by for a social drink and made a point of talking to Bekki, watching her intently, and taking the opportunity to make friendly conversation. He then had one of those grown-up conversations with Mummy, reminding her a place in Raven House was there for the taking for young Rebecka, who is shaping up admirably. And for her younger sisters, of course. Mummy had said to be respectful and deferent. Apparently Lord Downey was her boss. Bekki digested this. Mummy had a boss? somebody Mummy had to take orders from? It took some getting used to.

Bekki winced slightly. Getting siblings had been a shock. Competitors for her parents' attention. Famke had been the first, followed by Ruth. Mummy had sworn there would be no more. Ouma Agnetha had complacently said for her not to be so sure of that. And please reassure me you did not name Ruth after… your colleague.

Mummy had smiled and said Ruth is such a nice name, mother. Lots of people get called that. (9)

Then there was her other oupa, oupa Mustrum. Bekki gathered this was less straightforward, He wasn't Daddy's daddy as an oupa was, officially. But he filled the space. He was big and kind and funny and his voice filled the room. Bekki was puzzled at some things. Her official Godsmother, or one of them, Irena, also watched her speculatively. Bekki knew one of her names was Irena, after the Rebecka and the Monika. Irena was nice and bought little presents and had even taken her up for a ride on the big flying horse. Mummy had said this was a privilege only a very few little girls got, and she should be grateful. But she'd heard Daddy, Irena and oupa Mustrum talking one night. It had been about her, but she suspected it wasn't meant to be heard by her.

"So the little girl can see the images the bloody Book projects. That's fine, that's basic technomancy. The blasted imps are bred to do that for the kiddie who reads the Book. Kiddie reads the words on the page. Then the page gets, what's the damned word, all interactive. The imp bound to the page rewards the kiddie with a little song or a dance, as it's bred to."

"Well, yes. it'll do that for any child." her Godsmother said, in what Bekki would in later life recognise as a witch-trying-to-be-patient-with-wizards sort of voice. "But I put it to you, Mr Ridcully, that in normal circumstances that's as far as the interaction goes. When the imps go outside their programming, develop personalities and have full conversations with the little girl, pretty complex ones, that suggests something's waking up in her."

"I've noticed that." Daddy said, "According to the parenting books, most little children have imaginary friends only they can see. but Bekki doesn't. Err..."

"Young Rebecka doesn't need imaginary friends, lad." Oupa Mustrum had said, kindly patting Daddy on the shoulder. "Hers are pretty damn real."

There had been a pause.

"Looks like she won't be able to go to the Assassins' School, lad." her not-an-official-grandfather-but-near-enough had said. "Donald's going to be dissappointed. How's her mother likely to take that?"

"Johanna always knew this was possible." Ponder said. "And as far as I can tell, Famke doesn't seem to have magic in her. Famke or Ruth go to the Assassins' School, maybe. But sir, we don't take girls either, Eskarina excepted."

"We do." Godsmother Irena said. Bekki registered a note of satisfaction there. Bekki was puzzled, but put it out of her mind as something that didn't immediately concern her. There were exciting things to do now.

Tannie Mariella called round often, most of the time with her friend Rivka in tow. Bekki grasped that, in a roundabout way, she shared Rivka's name. Something to do with big events on the night she had been born. Rivka was somebody she liked. She was petite, very dark, and wore her hair in a short-cut style, framing a face of doll-like beauty.(10). It wasn't the sort of face you'd expect an Assassin to have. But apparently she'd done something big when she was thirteen. Bekki wasn't sure of the details but it was all to do with things on the night she, Rebecka, had been born. Rivka had been a very good student, or something. (11) Rivka had been here throughout Bekki's life so far, taking her role as an unofficial Godsmother very seriously and providing a sort of big-sisterly input into her life. As she pointed out, you chose to name her after me. Gevalt, did you think I'd go away? Mummy had accepted this, and on nights when it was needed, Rivka and Mariella had been babysitters of preference.

And now Mummy was pouring drinks.

"I knew you'd both greduate." she said. "Elthough I cennot sey I was not concerned. On the night of your Final Run." (12)

She handed drinks out. There was a clinking of glasses.

"So. You are both Essessins now. Whet next?"

Tannie Mariella looked deferential for a moment. Then she said "Well, the first thing is to esk when you'll sign the money over. Eighteen end a helf thousand dollars. With compound interest."

Mummy looked irritated for a moment, Bekki noticed. Then she laughed.

"Less the expenses of all the equipment you needed for the Bleck." Mummy said. "You didn't think I was peying for thet out of my own pocket, did you?"

Eventually bank statements were provided and scrutinised and a final figure agreed on.

It still came to more than eighteen and a half thousand.

"A useful lesson, Bekki." her aunt said, in Vondalaans. "Even when you're dealing with family. Especially when you're dealing with family. Always ask to see the accounts, where money's involved." She repeated this in Morporkian for Rivka's benefit. Rivka nodded, sagely.

"So she tells me this, and I'm Cenotian? Oi vey! Talk about sending gold to Agatea!"

Then Mariella explained why she'd appreciate access to the cash her sister had been holding in trust for her.

"We're taking a gap year, Johanna. We want to travel. We had this idea of travelling through Howondaland. The whole continent. (13) Start at the Klatchian end and go all the way Rimwards from Al-Gebra to Caarp Town. Spend time with Rivka's people in Cenotia, and at the other end drop in on Uncle Charles in Caarp Town."

Bekki saw her mother nod approvingly.

"Keep me informed. It sounds like a fun adventure." She sighed. "I wish I'd been able to do something like that after I graduated. I envy you both. Mariella, be sure not to advertise too openly you have returned Home. Or they'll sign you up for National Service. And beware of Uncle Charles. Count your fingers after shaking hands with him. And don't sign any contracts to work for him until an army of lawyers have vetted them for loopholes."

Bekki felt appalled and a little bit bereaved that two of her favourite adults would disappear from her life almost forever. For at least a year, which was forever, when you're six or seven. And Tannie Mariella had said to Mummy that if she couldn't get out of National Service when she got Home, maybe she ought to bite the bullet and get it out of the way. Mummy had said "Ja, reasonable. But never in BOSS. Regular Army. Or the Watch." So that meant Tannie Mariella, who she loved, could be gone for years. It had been hard enough when the dogs died. Kaffee and Crème had gone within weeks of each other, aged twelve. Mummy had gently explained that twelve was a good life for a dog, they'd had good lives, and we should be happy about that. Then she'd gone away for a cry. Daddy had said later that maybe in a little while. But not yet. There'd be new puppies. Give it time. Bekki had wailed that she didn't want new puppies. She wanted Kaffee and Crème. Daddy said we know, sweetheart. But everything has an ending. The household had mourned. Claude, the butler, had quietly supervised graves in a favourite place in the garden, digging the hole deep, setting Kaffee to rest alongside his sister. Johanna had insisted the basket they had both slept in together went into the ground with them. It was fitting. A lot of family and friends had been there to say goodbye.

They saw Mariella and Rivka off at the docks, watching till the Cenotia-bound ship receded to the horizon. Both of them had promised to send Bekki and her sisters nice things from abroad. And other students from the next Continent, all new graduates, were going Home with them, returning home for the first time in up to seven years. There'd be a few lively parties on board. Mummy blew her nose. She was weeping slightly. She nodded to the family party, who included Annaliese and the two younger girls, and Cousin Johanna Smith-Rhodes-Maaijande, a Guild student now in her fifth year.

"You'll be next." she said to Cousin Johanna. "And sooner than both of us think." They travelled back to Spa Lane in silence. Then Mummy said, thoughtfully

"Now might be the time for new puppies. Bekki, Famke, you will want to come to the Embassy with me and help choose two? Uncle Pieter tells me there will soon be a new litter."

Bekki felt less bereaved. New puppies. There were consolations. You lose some people, you gain new puppies. While she still missed Kaffee and Creme like a hole in her heart - mummy had said to her that loss never goes away and grief for those you love, who are now gone, will never completely die - the idea of two new puppies, dogs who would be as loved and as loyal as those they were following - was somehow attractive. She wondered what their names would be. Mummy had said not to rush that, good names would come for the new family dogs. Then she thought of Rivka, the beautiful, quietly sophisticated, quietly funny, older girl who she thought of as a sort of big sister, who shared, more or less, her name. Oi vey. Lech'aid. She didn't know what either term meant precisely, but she'd heard Rivka say them often enough. She thought it meant something like Life is good. Even allowing for it being absurd and ridiculous sometimes.

Maybe a part two to come. This galloped away with me and took strange directions. I just let it flow. It might merit editing, as this feels a bit "not quite all there" yet…. Despite appearances, be assured this is not a post-script to the series.

(1) The female version of a knighthood, a "Dame of the British Empire" and related degrees are conferred to deserving ladies several times a year. While everything is notionally in the gift of the monarch and she gets two goes every year – her real and official birthdays are marked by Honours Lists in which the Queen gets, in a Hobbit-like sort of a way, to give gifts, most of the work is done by the Prime Minister advised by his (her) civil servants, and the monarch rubber-stamps their list. There is also a New Year's Honours List, and special occasions such as change of government following an election are also marked by honours. Notionally honours are only conferred on deserving or exceptional people – high achievers in their field, be it culture, sports, science, et c, or people devoting their lives to Good Works. In practice over 80% of honours go to politicians, civil servants, senior military officers or friends/financial backers of the various political parties. As Sir Humphrey Appleby pointed out to Jim Hacker in thinly-veiled fiction, honours are a potent weapon. They reward friends, cement alliances, can be held out as lures to get the socially ambitious to do as they're told; and those you don't reward this time will come to you and politely ask what they need to do for you if they're to make the cut next time. As cynical observers point out, the whole idea of The Order of the British Empire is a pretty meaningless thing these days for a suitably honoured person to be a Member or Commander of, given that today's Empire is a rump of isolated islands in various places plus a chunk of Antarctica. But people still want to be an MBE, an OBE or a CBE… nobody has been able to come up with a better name for the medal system, though. So it's still OBE.

(2) D.A.M.E. – Dame of the Ankh-Morporkian Empire. Which these days consists of residual bits of countryside on the fringes of the city, the Shires, and a couple of island groups in the Turnwise Sea where the natives don't want independence, because they know their standard of living would drop to abject poverty if Ankh-Morpork left and such economic support as they receive were to vanish completely, leaving them to their own resources(2:1). The situation amuses Vetinari greatly. As does the circular idea of a woman being honoured by being able to put "DAME" at both ends of her name.

(2:1) This led to the possibly unique situation in the Guano Islands, a small archipelago located in the Turnwise Ocean annexed as an afterthought by General Tacticus in order to "tidy up a few loose ends". This had necessitated the budget-stretching expense of building a small fleet to convey an invasion force, not so much in anticipation of meeting massive resistance as to "give them something to do. You know. I've got this massive army on the end of the known world standing around getting bored. So please advance $AM500,000 for construction of ships and amphibious landing craft and training of marines." The people of the Guano Islands fought a desperate and remorseless War of Dependence in order to prevent Ankh-Morpork from granting them full self-determination and pulling out after the usual cocktail party, a friendly handshake, and the standard declaration of "good luck in the future, and by the way, now you're no longer a colony we're under no obligation to pay for you or support you any more."(2:1:1)

(2:1:1) It had to happen sometime. A footnote to a footnote. To a footnote.

(3) Eskarina Smith. Now a research Fellow at the University and one of a handful of women to have achieved a higher academic degree from UU. See writings by Terry Pratchett beginning with Equal Rites.

(4) Cats know. Form dictates behaviour. And a demon in cat form who knows Susan Sto Helit is in the room…

(5) You do not want to leave a wizard's grimoire unattended, insecured and unlocked. Not even Baby's First Grimoire. Or the magic does indeed leak out. Ponder had been very firm indeed about this.

(6) A town named for Lady Mary Smith-Rhodes, wife of Sir Cecil and co-founder of the dynasty.

(7) Johanna had gloomily faced the possibility she might be accused of a certain inconsistency here. She tacitly accommodated her cousin Julian's relationship with her colleague Ruth N'Kweze and even looked the other way and went discreetly deaf when they shared a guest bedroom. But Julian came from a family with a lot of power and influence and Ruth was not a citizen of Rimwards Howondaland. She too came from a family with a lot of clout, normally delivered very emphatically via a knobkerrie. Simeon, she knew, was not in a position to have strings pulled on his behalf to set aside charges of immorality and breach of the Racial Separation Acts. And Annaliese was an innocent. Informally enforcing racial separation, to her mind, was in this case the kindest thing to do. And it spared Johanna from BOSS pressing charges against her. The Smith-Rhodes family could have pulled strings, but it meant being beholden to Uncle Charles, something she was determined to avoid.

(8) Dame Penelope Frout insisted the children be properly hydrated. Susan agreed with this up to a point, but with the benefit of hard classroom experience, measured the drinks given in relation to the capacity of the average four-year-old bladder.

(9) Ruth N'Kweze had been quietly delighted at the honour, and had volunteered her services as an unavoidably unofficial godsmother.

(10) I wasn't consciously intending this. But a reader asked if I had Nathalie Portman in mind, specifically the character Mathilde in the film Leon, the Professional. In which a professional killer, an Assassin indeed, becomes a sort of foster-father to a startlingly beautiful and innocent-looking orphan. Who takes to weapons and the idea of cold merciless killing like a duck to water. I looked at images of Mathilde. Yup. That's exactly how I'd expect the young Rivka ben-Divorah to look. And Nathalie Portman, by happy coincidence, is an Israeli. Perfect.

(11) go to my tale Hyperemesis Gravidarum, which deals with events surrounding Bekki's entry into the world.

(12) Yes. There may be a tale to tell here. But these are glimpses.

(13) To Rimwards Howondalandians, Howondaland is the proper name of the whole continent. Klatch is merely a country within it. Geography depends on perspective.