The MGC returns? C14
"No, no, no, no, no, no and NO!" Joan Sanderson- Reeves shouted at her class, in mounting exasperation.
The class of second-year girls stopped and looked at her with expressions of apprehension, some of them drooping their heads with fear and worry in their eyes.
"Go back to the starting point, if you please!" she said, with brisk, businessslike, curtness. The girls shuffled and scraped back to one wall of the swordfighting arena, a large open space that was perfect for this lesson, although no swords were being used. The weapon Joan was teaching today was potentially more deadly, although harder to learn.
She surveyed her thirty twelve and thirteen year-olds, now lined up with their backs to the padded wall, and shook her head disapprovingly.
"Do you know" she said , frowning, "that were you Klatchians or Hershebians, and yes, I know you actually are, Miss bint-Hussein, at the age of thirteen you would not be considered children any more. In some cultures around this Disc of ours, at the age of thirteen you are considered legally adult and may marry. In fact, the cultural expectation in many societies is that you will marry and be counted as adult women for all legal purposes."
She allowed a few moments of "Ewwww!" and shrill disgusted noises as the deeper significance of what she was saying sank in. All apart from miss bint-Hussein, whose eyes betrayed a fiery impatient yes-I-know,-what-are-you-telling-me-this-for?
"I have met Klatchian gentlemen who are graduates of this Guild, and they assure me that I am not wrong in believing that there is a certain amount of beauty, a unique beauty, in fact, in the way a girl of twelve or thirteen composes and comports herself. This gives her a special value in Klatchian society, which the Klatchian language calls porcola, or worth-many-camels. (1)1Now, I am not here to evaluate your worth to Klatchian buyers, except to note that as of this moment , were I to be looking to trade you all in for camels, I would be disappointed by a most unfavourable exchange rate!"
Joan let the barb sink in, and continued:
"I believe there is a unique and transitory beauty about girls of twelve and thirteen. I did not notice this myself at that age, nobody told me, and for me it is long gone without recall. This does not mean I approve of marriage at thirteen, but I do believe the Klatchians have it part-right."
"But look at you all! You are moving and walking, if I can call it that, as if you are ashamed of being young and female. As if your bodies are something to fight and make an enemy of. You are letting your shoulders slump down and forward, your heads droops, your feet shuffle and scrape and you take silly awkward little steps like those Howondalandian flightless birds. It is not nice or pleasant to watch and you may be sure I will be eradicating it from your gait and carriage over the coming months. Raven House? At least a raven has a certain perk and vigour in the way it moves! For the duration of today, ladies, you are Ostrich House!"
She scoured them with her eyes again.
"But happily for you, you have met me and I can put right these little deficiencies. When you learn the very basics, to walk and carry yourselves straight, everything else becomes easier! Madame Deux-Épées will see an improvement in your swordsmanship. Miss Band will undoubtedly approve of your enhanced ability to climb. Miss Smith-Rhodes will see you running further and faster when you go on wilderness survival training. You will sit up straighter and focus more in classrooms. And in later life you will be physically fitter because your body is doing what it was designed to do. And you will do it with grace and style and poise, as befits Assassins!"
She nodded towards the small side table that she and Humphrey – dear Humphrey – had set up just as the class were entering. She noted that all of them had looked dubiously at it as Mr Mericet had, with infinite caution, brought in the brown-glass Winchesters of nameless liquid chemicals in a ceramic carrying box. He was also wearing thick leather gauntlets to the elbow. The two teachers had gone through a pre-arranged routine.
"It makes me proud to see a teacher who respects the, ah, old-fashioned teaching methods of this Guild, miss Sanderson-Reeves." Mr Mericet had said, in a dry respectful voice, as he set up for her.
"Sometimes, Mr Mericet, the old-fashioned ways are the best. Tried and trusted, and all that!" Joan had replied.
Mr Mericet straightened up.
"You did, ah, inform the sickroom that there may be casualties?"
"Of course, Mr Mericet!." Joan had said, with a smile, watching the effect on her pupils.
"I'd love to stay and watch. But classes demand, and all that. Send word when you are done and I'll collect the working materials."
He had left, and Joan was with her class.
"Now, ladies." Joan said, cheerfully. "Of all the occupations and trades in this fine and great city, name me the one where professional ladies comport themselves with pride. They always walk with their heads held high and their backs stiff and straight. They take pride in their appearance and the way they walk and move and present themselves in public. Who are these ladies?"
She waited for a raised hand, and nodded.
"Er… Assassins, miss?"
Joan raised an eyebrow.
"Not much evidence of that in this classroom yet!"
"Well… there's you, miss. Lady T'malia. Lady de Meserole."
"Lady de Meserole prefers to have people guess."
"And Miss Band and Miss Smith-Rhodes and Madam Deux-Épées.."
Good point. Well stated. But there are only five of us so far!" Joan said. "There will be a lot more graduate female Assassins in a few years and, you hope, in the fullness of time, this will include you. But what I'm looking for is a long-established occupational Guild where women carry themselves with decorum and pride in being women."
"Thieves, miss?"
Joan threw a withering glare.
"Have you seen graduates of their school? Scruffy articles. No idea about carriage or deportment. No, ladies. I mean seamstresses. They are good. They train in deportment – I used to work as a freelance teacher in Deportment and Elocution for their Guild, when I ran the private school. Damn fine pupils!"
Joan paused a moment and added: "The Seamstresses' Guild has a good rule. That the Seamstress should strive to be of the same or slightly higher social class to her client so as to put him at rest. I agree with that. The Concordat tells us the assassin should blend seamlessly in any company. You will learn that here, ladies. Now gather round where you can see."
The class obediently moved forwards.
"This is a chemical. It is called sweet spirits of nitre(2)2. I have poured some in the saucer here. This is an ordinary penny. Observe."
Joan dropped the coin into the liquid, which began to fizz and boil and fume around the copper.
"Now there's a penny I'll never get back" she observed. She lifted, with care, the other carboy on the table and poured more clear fluid into another saucer.
"Observe" she said, putting the carboy down and replacing the cork.
"I will demonstrate. This is the end result you will all be working for in my lessons. Later on in the term we shall have a little test."
With infinite care and gasps from the class, Joan lifted the saucer with both hands, paused and aligned it, and balanced it on top of her head. She now had the undivided attention of thirty girls, some of whom were wide eyed, biting their fingers, or making worried noises. Without looking round, she said "Fingernails, miss Trace. We do not bite them. What have you been told? "
Joan then walked, with slow but steady pace, to the far wall of the arena, some forty yards away. She turned, with absolute concentrated focus, knowing the liquid in the saucer would be mirror-smooth and not rippling. Then she returned to the class, removed and lowered the saucer, and poured the liquid back into the appropriate carboy. The stink of acid and degraded copper still hung heavy in the air.3(3)
"This is doable." she said. "You will all become confident enough in your own deportment to successfully walk the length of this room, turn, and walk back, whilst balancing a saucer on your head. Anyone worried? Anyone overconfident enough to want to try it now? No? I thought not. We will therefore do it with a book on our head, instead. You have all just come from the Compt de Yoyo's lesson in Applied Geography, have you not? Bring out the standard text, if you please, you should all have one!"
Relieved, the girls went scurrying to their schoolbags. As the rest of the lesson was punctuated with the thud and scrape of dropped books, Joan permitted herself an enigmatic smile.
I told the damn gels to observe, but they didn't observe closely enough. she thought. It's true Humphrey provided enough sweet spirits of nitre to dissolve a copper coin, but there were two carboys on the table. None of 'em twigged the saucer I carried on my head only had distilled water in it. But I can still hack it with the best of 'em, I never spilt a drop!
Enjoying her work, Joan moved among them, cajoling and encouraging, till the bell went, and it was time for a cup of tea in the staffroom.
Mid-afternoon break in the staffroom was a generally relaxed one, with only one more block of formal lessons before the end of the teaching day. Some staff members were already taking the opportunity to mark tests and schoolwork, others looking over lesson plans for the next day. Joan moved through the nicotine permahaze and joined the non-smokers in their window recess.
"I think I gave a few of yours the material for some bad dreams tonight, m'dear." she said to Johanna Smith Rhodes. Johanna raised a doubting eyebrow.
"Worse than being on the run from every sentient species on the Disc, heving offended everybody?" she inquired. "I took mine in Linoleum's Clessifications."4(4)
"Excluding the bits about dwarfs, trolls, vampires and werewolves?"
Johanna nodded. "I make a point of telling the cless that some parts of Linoleum's work ere thought of es contentious. They ought to be eble to work it out for themselves!"
"And of course the Dwarfs and the Trolls can have a jolly good laugh over homo sapiens and ask where the wisdom is. " Joan agreed.
"Wherever it was, Carleus Linoleum didn't have it." Alice Band remarked. She was in working overalls, having just taken an archaeology class down to an accessible part of the Undercity to view Latatian ruins at first-hand. Her pick and shovel were stacked close to hand.
"What sort of compulsory-voluntary after-school activities are we all signed up for tonight?" Alice inquired, sipping her tea.
"I'm taking a group of students to the Petricien's Pelece Menagerie." Johanna said. "Professor Ettenborough from the University wents to retire from being Lord Vetineri's scientific advisor. He is looking for a successor."
"Well, he is over ninety now. Large animal work does tend to call for people to be fitter and more vigorous."
"Especially efter the elephant set on him." Johanna said, reflectively. " Elephants know."
"And Vetinari asked for you." Alice said, reflectively. "by name."
"You do not refuse. With twenty students end this troll enimel keeper, Eshphelt, we should be able to clean the cage, hose down the elephant, end feed and bed the creature down. A good lesson for the students, I think. I em pleased so many volunteered."
"Ashphalt. I've seen that chap about. A bit, er, conical, for a troll?"(5)5
"But a lot of experience with elephants." Johanna said, firmly. "End you, Joan?"
"The usual after-school homework club. You sound more cynical than usual, Alice?"
"Planning for a parents' evening for later in the term. I couldn't dodge Lord Downey quickly enough and he co-opted me onto the committee. That's two hours of my life I'm never going to get back!"
They sipped their tea in silence, watching the life of the staffroom going on about them.
"I wonder why Emmanuelle never seems to get landed with any after-hours teaching." mused Alice.
"I wasn't going to say that!" Joan said. "There's probably a good reason for it."
As one, they looked across to where Madame Emmanuelle Lapoignard les Deux-Épées was in the centre of an admiring throng of young male teachers, laughing, joking and smoking. She took a long drag of her cheroot and waved a hello.
"Filthy habit. She'll feel it when she's fifty." Joan observed.
There was a silence.
"You know, girls, speaking of large Howondalandian animals, there's a jolly big one in the room right now". said Joan.
"I think I know what you mean." Johanna said, frowning.
"The Marriage Guidance Counsellor, so-called. "It's been six weeks now without any new lead or trace. Do you really think she's lying low?"
"Or even reformed?" asked Alice.
"I doubt it!" Joan snorted. "You get onto that particular elephant's back, and it gets to be damned hard to steer. The ground is an awfully long way down, so you can't get off, and anyway it's moving too fast. You just have to go where it leads you, and hope."
"We've been watching her. The Palace have been watching her. The Watch have been watching her. By all accounts, our Doctor Bellamy has been living the life of a model citizen. The only thing of note is that Brindisi University has approved her outline PhD – you know, the one in man-eating plants - and at some point she has to go there for their Convivium. That sort of thing takes time and effort and your hobbies, like illegal Assassination, have to take second place! But sooner or later…"
Davinia Bellamy sat in her study at home and ran her fingers over the new framed degree scroll, proclaiming her Doctorate in Biological and Botanical Science. Like all new academics, she still couldn't believe she had, quietly and without any fuss, ascended another rung up the totem pole. She knew this posted scroll was a honorific thing ahead of the actual formal conferment: the University had posted her a degree certificate to frame for the office wall, in recognition of the fact she ran her own business and this was good for establishing her credentials.
On the day, the Arch-Chancellor would shake hands with her and present, for the look of the thing and the iconograph, a rolled piece of parchment tied with red ribbon, and that was just for the show of it – on the day it might as well be a receipt for ten thousand toilet rolls tied in ribbon. But the family had all shared their pride in Mother's enormous brain and that she officially knew all there was to know about plants plus a bit more on top. Peter had expressed his enormous relief that this was what she needed to stop her doing the other thing, and to bring her back on the straight and narrow again.
But never too far away from the surface was the itch, the desire, the yearning, to make the world a cleaner place, to carry on saying it with flowers, even if all the flowers had to say was a dozen inventively different permutations on the phrase "Drop dead!"
And she'd regretfully turned down three possible commissions in the last few weeks… sooner or later she would crack and give in.
And then what, with all the eyes she knew were watching her?
She sighed. Had she been religious, apart from necessary libations to the Disc Goddesses, she might have prayed.
But the moment was going to come, and it would come soon….
(1) The London Guardian courted trouble once by exploring this concept – the way the Arab North African world specially values the unique beauty of adolescent girls, of an age Western European and North American law would describe as so far underage as to constitute statutory rape. The liberal newspaper was exploring the culture clash between western and Arab ways of thinking, but ended up accused of paedophilia by Western critics and of being racist and anti-Islamic by Arab critics, ending up pleasing nobody.
(2) The old name for nitric acid.
(3) Some advanced schools of yoga do this as a pupil test or as a spectacular public display, in much the same way the more showy black-belt karate donjons demonstrate breaking bricks with the bare hands in public.
(4)It's like this. Carl Linoleum was a natural scientist who had a brilliant vision for organising and classifying the known animal and botanical species of the Disc. Following a lifetime of observation, he had an insight of genius, that all animal and plant species could be seen as a large sprawling interrelated family. Thus they could be given Latatian names (Latatian being the language of science) denoting exactly where they belonged in the family tree, Felis Leo (lion) Felis Tigris (Tiger)and Felis Nuisencis(domestic Cat) all belonging on the same general branch. While later naturalists and animal scientists, including Johanna, would come to agree with the basic soundness of the idea, they would deplore the mis-placed and as it turned out, fatal, sense of humour that had led Linoleum to classify Trolls as Stultus Saxum (Stupid rocks), Dwarfs as Hortus Decorum (Garden Ornaments) Vampires as Nosferatu Sanguinae (Bloody Undead) and Werewolves as Canii Bonii (Good Doggies). The Watch, after realising a list of suspects would be as thick as Twurp's Peerage, elected to treat his death as a case of suicide. Linoleum is a canonical character TP invented for the Discworld Noir computer game.
On Roundworld, Swedish genius Carl Linnaeus.
(5) Ashphalt appears in Soul Music as roadie to the Band, taking a break from his vocation of elephant-wrangling. His conical shape is due to the essential softness of his being and the fact he has been sat upon by elephants so often. They know.