There's nothing like a fresh pair of eyes 15
I think "Clowning" is going to get together again fairly soon. I can see what way it's going to go now, and the outcome of the collapse of the clown revolt is pretty much plotted out, with extra Rats.
But for now, this. I can't leave the immediate story hanging in the air, with two suddenly discomfited teaching Assassins intent on a few words with students who exceeded all expectations… slight edit to remove hints of a rushed finish.
Afterwards, Catherine blamed herself for allowing Deborah Rust to go to point with Natasha. Even though Natasha Romanoff had told her to walk carefully, behind me, and not to touch anything and to do as she was bloody well told.
One minute the four were making their way back to camp, elated they'd successfully completed the exercise. Solveig was barefoot and carrying her boots; Natasha had asked for a few moments to dismantle her bow and return it to concealment in her backpack.
Catherine almost felt she could relax and ease off on the return leg. They'd completed the assigned exercise. All they should worry about now was the reaction of their teachers to the way they'd accomplished the task. But, come on! They invited us to try to get close enough to put a bomb underneath their feet. They cannot complain that we did. It was just a bigger one than they were expecting, that's all. And they did stress that one of the purposes was testing how we could co-operate with people we wouldn't normally choose to work with. And I was told to try and get Solveig and Natasha working together. Which they did. As well as to keep Deborah Rust out of trouble and stop her washing out… oh, NO! Deborah!
As Miss Deborah Rust stepped confidently forwards, there was a sudden change in the nature of the night. Luminous smoke suddenly billowed upwards and blossomed. Catherine, Solveig and Natasha started to throw themselves away from it….
As the echoes of the explosion faded and died, Ponder Stibbons found himself running towards the tower, heedless of any traps that were still to be triggered. He was lucky not to detonate any. He encountered Gillian Lansbury, who was also running for the doorway, more carefully in her case, as one who knew approximately where all the traps had been. She'd helped set some of them, after all.
Gillian took him firmly by the shoulder and prevented him going inside.
"You can't go in until all the smoke's cleared." she said, kindly. "We've got no breathing apparatus, for one thing."
"Johanna?" he asked, panting. Gillian smiled, kindly.
"I suspect they're both alright." She said. "More or less. It just looks a lot worse than it is. And they weren't inside the tower in any enclosed spaces. They were in the open at the top, which helps. Dissipates the blast, you see. And I don't think that explosion was powerful enough to do much more than knock a few bits of loose masonry off."
Ponder nodded, gloomily. He reflected that he'd have to report this to the Department of Magical Heritage, who logged the condition of all former wizarding towers around the Disc. The School of Eldritch Civil Engineering And Multi-Dimensional Construction would need to know too, so as to send an engineering-wizard out to do a site survey. Technically the site belonged to the University. It had little cash value, but nominal ownership meant anyone who got injured if they went inside and tripped on a crumbling staircase might be minded to sue the University for negligence. Ridcully could deal with this sort of thing, but preferred not to, and would blame Ponder. Hell, he might even sue the Assassins for criminal damage… Ponder hoped this would not provoke inter-Guild dissent. Vetinari got sarcastic about that kind of thing.
"Ah well. And they were so sure none of the students were going to get that close. Overconfidence can get to us all, I suppose."
Ponder wondered if at some obscure level, Gillian, a woman junior on the prestige and seniority scale to Alice and Johanna, was deriving some enjoyment from all this. She'd arrived later, after all.
I won't be long. I'm just going to check on them." Gillian said.
"Err… how, exactly?" Ponder asked, indicating the thick swirling smoke. Several colours of chemical smoke had by now mingled into a dirty brown-grey.
Gillian smiled. Suddenly she was exuding self-confidence and radiated the aspects of a woman in complete control of the situation.
"This way. And unless you can edificeer, I'd suggest you wait down here, and try to think nice thoughts."
He watched as the normally vague and ditzy-seeming Art Mistress effortlessly ascended the side of the tower, avoiding windows and arrow-slits that were streaming smoke. He slumped down and sat on the inviting turf.
And speaking of smoke, Ponder thought. It's at times like this that I really, really, wish I'd got the habit. I can see the point of a cigarette right now. Then he sat up straight. Wizard-senses were twanging. Some sort of disturbance in the magical field. He noted the taste of old tin in his mouth, and reached for a thaumometer…
Catherine realised something was out of place when the magenta-coloured smoke washed all over her and left no stain or mark. Her clothing remained black and undyed. There had also been no bang, no ear-splitting explosion. There was no acrid chemical tang to the air. And this seemed like some sort of mist….
The four girls turned to face outwards, wondering what this was but determined to face it. There was a sinister cackle.
Ah, wonderful. Three definite virgins. And one who recently made a determined effort to shed her virginity, and who remains a maiden in body only. She still counts, however. A feast!
Catherine reddened. The other three looked at her. Rumours about her night with Gareth had spread, it seemed.
And then they looked at the entity. It took the form of a twelve-foot tall demon, with the classic masculine features. The curling ram's horns, and the goat legs.
"You might try covering that thing up." Solveig said, with distaste. "We all had The Lecture from Matron Igorina and got to see the slides. Frankly, after The Lecture I'm in no great hurry to see one close up."
"This is magic, right?" Catherine said. "Deborah…we… triggered some centuries old magical defence."
The demon nodded, smugly. Catherine noted he was slightly transparent. Through his body she could see another group of girls making their way from the tower. Their clothing was stained fire-orange. They had stopped to watch the events at the tower and were speculating on who had done that. And they didn't seem to have noticed, in the slightest, a very male twelve-foot demon manifesting in a cloud of magenta-purple mist. Extremely male, in fact.
"And she talked about all the diseases and all the things one of those can transmit to a woman." Solveig went on, remorselessly. "At length. With iconography slides. "And it looks none-too-clean, frankly. Have you never heard about balanitis?(1)"
Catherine thought she detected a sudden note of confusion in the demon. Only a slight one, but it appeared to blink. She realised it probably hadn't met anybody for years. Four pissed-off student Assassins, when it expected to see the usual sort of shrieking and frightened young girls…
"And those are only the initial symptoms…" Solveig was explaining.
The demon seemed to compose itself and it cackled. Although it was not standing as proudly, in one essential masculine sense, as it had been a minute or so before. Catherine suspected listening to the clinical symptoms of various STI's and urinary-tract infections might derail even the most urgent male intentions.
"You are in my power." it gloated. "Currently you are in a closed sphere of magical influence. You are the only ones who are aware of my presence. You have passed out of the notice of those around you."
Catherine grinned.
"Good. Makes things easier." she said.
Deborah Rust gave him the family glare from ice-blue diamonds.
"There was a disgusting individual who exposed himself to my sister Regina." She said, haughtily. "She wasn't pleased, and got two of Father's men to soundly whip him before dragging him off to the Tanty. I'm wondering what recourse is available to us, here and now."
Natasha folded her arms and glowered back at the demon, who ploughed on in what Catherine recognised was a pre-programmed script. Supernatural entities, apparently, found it hard to change a winning formula, even when it patently wasn't working.
"You awoke me because one of you has magical ability. Oh, not enough for her to be considered a witch or wizard. But just enough innate talent. And another…"
The demon stared at Catherine.
"Another of you has a little induced magic. A mystical link, certainly."
Catherine calmly remembered what little training they'd had in magical phenomena. Teaching to Assassins about magic largely revolved around "Retreat from the area and let a wizard or a witch deal with it. It is always advantageous to have magically-gifted friends." But she also remembered:
If an enemy believes they have you in their power, there is often a regrettable tendency to gloat and explain their intentions at great length. Encourage this and learn from their over-confidence. And while they are talking about their plans and their intentions for you, in the unwise belief you will soon be dead, it buys you thinking time to work out a strategy.(2)
"I believe he's talking about me." Natasha Romanoff said, stepping forwards. She motioned Solveig to silence and regarded the demon thoughtfully, without fear.
"Demon. I suspect a certain magical competence runs in my family. My great-aunt was a babiushka. Nobody in the family speaks about that very much. They consider it embarrassing. A lower-class kulak affliction. I consider I escaped the worst of it, and the magic descended on my cousin in almost all its force. She ran off to Lancre to train as a witch. You may have heard the name of Olga Anastacia Romanoff? No? But you will almost certainly know the name of the Great Babiushka, Grandmother Weatherwax. Who trained my cousin, and considered herself satisfied."
"Carry on…" the demon said, with a note of uncertainty passing into his voice. Some dread names echoed around the Chthonic Planes, as betokening concepts too terrible even for demons.
"Olga The Intractable, Olga the Bloody-Minded, she got most of the family magic. I'm not sure how much I got or if I qualify. But I'm pretty sure a very small part of it's in here somewhere. Want to find out together?"
The demon paused and looked down at her.
"You're bluffing. A banishment spell only counts if it comes from a magic-user."
"Ah yes. Banishment spells. As you say I'm not sure if they'll work coming from me. But Olga told me how these things are done in Lancre. Let us find out, shall we? The usual form of words is Bugger Off!"
The demon flinched and recoiled. But was still there. Natasha smiled.
"Perhaps it carries more force in my native language. твою мать!"
This time, the demon felt it. He recoiled as if in pain.
"That's a bit personal!" he protested, a whiny tone entering his voice. "Besides, have you met my mother?"
The four girls watched as the formerly imposing, now somewhat droopy, demon dwindled to nothing. But his final shot before vanishing was to look maliciously at Catherine and hiss…
"Catherine Perry-Bowen. Ask who donated your new eyes to you. They haven't told you everyt…"
And then it was gone. The magenta light switched off.
As the others congratulated Natasha, Catherine shook her head. What had he… it… meant? Who was the donor for these eyes? But that was a question for later.
"Let's get back." she said. The origin of her eyes was a question for later.
Johanna Smith-Rhodes shook her head. The world around her was temporarily silent, but careful manual checking reassured her that her eardrums were still intact, more or less. Hearing would resume shortly. Her ears had simply shut down in self-defence. She looked across the top of the tower to assure herself Alice was still there. Alice Band, making the same sort of self-checks, grinned slightly and shook her head. She looked as wobbly as Johanna felt.
Hearing gone. No sign of permanent damage. Should get it back in an hour or so. she signalled, in finger-code.
Likewise, replied Johanna. Who was it? I want their hides!
Not sure. We can ask Gillian. Think this tower's going to stay up and not collapse?
We should think of getting down. But I'm not up to edificeering just yet and we'd only choke if we used the stairs. Inner ears feel strange. Balance issues.
Best to sit it out, then.
The two sat down next to the parapet. The guardian demon was nowhere to be seen. Alice wondered if the explosion had broken the bond, or evaporated him, or something. Pity. Derek had been pleasant enough. For a sentient incarnation of evil.
Without any great surprise, they witnessed Gillian Lansbury rolling over the rim of the parapet.
"Of course, I'm now at your mercy." Natasha said to the other three. She tried to avoid looking at Solveig von Kugelblitz. "Listen. Anyone with magic gets kicked out. Even the slightest little bit of magical talent. They identify you. You go. And the Quirm Academy for Young Ladies sounds the most bloody boring place on Disc, after the Guild School."
"You got us all out of that." Catherine said.
"It appears I owe you a favour." Deborah Rust said, stiffly.
"That's why they brought a wizard." Catherine said, suddenly realising. "They never tell us everything. He's not just there to screen this area for old random magic. They want him to screen us, too. For magical ability!"
Natasha nodded, ruefully.
"Exactly." she said. Remember this time last year? They took thirty girls in the year above us on a trip like this. A fortnight later there were only twenty-six. Four of them got expelled. Shipped out to other schools."
Solveig was quiet and looked in deep thought. Natasha looked over to her.
"I will not beg." she said. "Or plead."
Solveig von Kugelblitz took her time in answering. Catherine considered taking her aside and saying a few quiet and meaningfully emphatic things in her ear. Along the lines of "I know you've now got a powerful weapon to use against Natasha. But just you dare use it after she helped us all win the exercise AND inhumed a demon. Discorporated a demon. Terminally exorcised it. Or whatever. I'll come after you if you do!"
Solveig shook her head.
"You know; I understand Lady T'Malia better now. When she says the one person you can always, absolutely, trust and rely on is your bitterest enemy. Even you best friend can let you down, but you always know where you stand with your life's enemy."
She smiled, ruefully.
"There's always room for a bitter enemy in your life. Somebody you can rely on. No, I'm not going to say a word about this to anybody, turniphead. I don't know how often I'll need to rely on you before we both graduate. And you won the night for us. Twice. As far as I'm concerned the thing with the demon never happened. I vote we all forget it and say nothing about it when we report in. Everyone agreed?"
"What demon?" Catherine said.
"I saw nothing." Deborah agreed. This, Catherine realised, was postgraduate level thinking, for a Rust.
"The demon we never saw also said Cathy's got some magic too." Natasha remarked, after a while. "I'm not inclined to drop her in the govno. She led us. Bloody well, too."
"So we all say nothing." Solveig agreed. "Fine by me, turniphead. Natasha."
Thank you, beet-eater. Solveig."
There was another pause.
"I've got some spare bootlaces in my pack. I believe I owe you a pair."
"Thanks, Natasha.".
And the four walked on back to the camp, one limping slightly on stony ground.
Ponder Stibbons blinked as the thaumometer reading went off the scale for a few minutes, then abruptly dropped to nothing. Just the sort of spikes of random fluctuating old magic you could expect in places like this. He wondered if some of the girls had triggered an ancient magical artefact, or something. He'd raise it with Johanna and the others later. Johanna. He wondered about her. He felt it would be just his luck to get a girlfriend who was on any conventional scale way out of his league, who seemed for some reason of her own to really like him, only to lose her to the sort of occupational hazard Assassins were prone to. He really hoped she was OK.
"Professor Stibbons?" he heard from above. "Professor Stibbons? They're both OK. They just need a bit of quiet time before we move on. Nothing to worry about!"
He looked up and saw Gillian Lansbury leaning over the parapet, giving him the thumbs-up signal. He felt reassured. But that surge of magic just now. Did that indicate at least one of the girls had a Talent? He tried to remember the survey notes on Pettifogg's Tower. They had talked about a really powerful demon, possibly dispersed or long since returned to one of the Nether Planes, summoned up as a guardian and familiar. He had assumed the rather weedy and ineffectual Derek had had his reputation built up in several centuries of random manifestations to the unwary. But Derek was confined to the Tower. What if there had been other demons? Ask Derek, before I banish him… then ask somebody from Demonologie to come out and take a look. Get a specialist in.
The girls waited in the camp, temporarily free of adult supervision. Nobody was inclined to horseplay or high spirits. Some had changed clothes, as far as they were able, and were industriously trying to clean dye and coloured powder out of their equipment and from exposed skin. Others were trying to rest and get some sleep. Some of them wondered what was keeping their teachers. Others who knew, or guessed, were delightedly elaborating the story.
Catherine made herself light a fire to brew tea. She needed a cup. She heard snippets of excited conversation all around her.
If you do inhume your teacher, they say it's an automatic pass mark. They make you an Assassin on the spot!
So who did it?
Natasha Romanoff, people are saying. Saartie van der Plessis got close enough to throw her bomb. But Natasha did that really big explosion.
There was a pause. Then the speaker added, almost as a footnote to bigger things,
Cathy Perry-Bowen helped, I hear.
Rumour flew and grew.
And then Miss Smith-Rhodes and Miss Band returned. Neither of them looked happy. Or amused. Miss Lansbury and the wizard followed.
"Form up." Miss Band directed them, tersely. "Roll-call. I want to be certain you're all here, for one thing."
Many pupils seemed disappointed she was clearly still alive.
"Rumours of my death have clearly been exaggerated." she said, laconically. "And as you can see, Miss Smith-Rhodes is still in the land of the normally humed."
Alice Band glared at her students. Her attitude spoke volumes in terms of irritation and annoyance. They were volumes that could only be found in the darker shelves of far recesses of the Dark Library.
"We will be debriefing you by working teams." she said. "This will unavoidably take some time. Well, we can't help that. Miss Lansbury will call you to our position in order from her notes. From the first team eliminated, to the last. We will set up our debriefing station here. The rest of you, I suggest, do what you can to change clothes and begin cleaning necessary equipment. Those of you who did not get a chance to detonate your munitions, I insist you hand those in immediately to Miss Smith-Rhodes. Those of you who cannot account for them will be spoken to. At length in some cases. Great and necessary length. Thank you."
Miss Band patted a strand of uncharacteristically dishevelled hair back into place, then turned – carefully – and stalked off. Miss Smith-Rhodes followed her, silently.
Catherine sighed and steeled herself for a long wait. She suspected this was deliberate.
Miss Smith-Rhodes smiled, without humour.
"So none of you cen provide an unexpended thunderflesh." she said, to the four. She made a note on her checklist. "Well, this corresponds to the names we found on severel spent casings. We cen discuss this, later."
She closed and locked the ammunition box. It was a large sturdy wooden case that would defy lockpicking. Then turned her back and walked off to the lamplit table where Miss Band was debriefing the latest pair. Catherine noted that the wizard, Professor Stibbons, was sitting inobtrusively nearby, intent on the small ominous device in his hands. He raised his head, and made a negative indication to Miss Band, who acknowledged him with a curt nod.
"Thank you. You are dismissed. You may retire to bed." Miss Band said, curtly. "Miss Grove and Miss Heaton-Mersey, please?"
So they are screening us for magic, Catherine thought. She wondered how they were going to get out of this one. She thought, furiously. The demon said I had induced magic. Is that to do with these new eyes I got? So maybe they'll make allowances for that. And if I stand near enough to Natasha, will it confuse any signals he's receiving? If they expect to see it in me, he might think the signal is all me and not Natasha…
She prepared to at least attempt to deceive her teachers. It was another challenge…
"That big explosion gave me a fright." Derek said. "It took Miss Band and Miss Smith-Rhodes by surprise, too! They had to think on that some of those girls are talents in the making. Better than they anticipated."
Ponder nodded. He had taken advantage of a teabreak to slip back to the tower to fulfil his promise to the trapped demon. It was, after all, only fair. Wizards dealt a lot with demons. Having people you could trust, up to a point, on both sides of the wizard-demonic divide was an advantage. It paid to have contacts. And any conjuration involving demons was best done by midnight. Doing it in daylight didn't have the same impact, somehow.
"Any other demons in the area?" Ponder inquired. The question was in the spirit of the accepted contract between magic-user and demonic entity. You were allowed three and the rules said the answer had to be completely truthful. Misleading sometimes, if they could get away with it. But substantially truthful.
There's {{guttural barking noise}} down in the valley." Derek replied. "Flash git. Also known as Jeremy. All noise and light show, if you ask me. Got an unpleasant thing for young women, know what I mean? Bet he was watching closely tonight. My guess is that one of 'em triggered him and got flashed at. Unpleasant habit of his. But I'd not like to cross some of those girls down there. Their teachers scare me! Anyway, he's all goatskin trousers and no action. Can't move far, as he's tied to a locale. They'd only have needed to ignore him and walk out of range."
That fitted. Ponder made a note to get Demonologie to send people out. Might be a good field trip for student Wizards.
"Better get on with it, then." Ponder suggested. He only had a few minutes. And a demon flashing his essential masculinity at Assassin schoolgirls… probably just a noisy nuisance.
"You know, if you're ever up in the world again. The Department of Demonologie are always looking for contacts. Professor Wheatley and Professor Montague-Summers. If you call by, tell them I sent you." Ponder offered. "And though it's not his usual subject area, Hix in Nec… Post-Mortem Communications…. He always appreciates a reliable demon. Hix is the licenced Black Magician in residence, by the way. You'd get on."
"Thanks, prof." Derek said.
Ponder took his cue.
"Nothing personal, you understand." He took a breath and cleared his throat. "Black and foul demon, foul creature! I abjure you…thee… to depart this place…."
Derek sighed contentedly as the words passed over him.
Ponder eventually returned to the camp. He sat in on the last few routine debriefings, finding no magic in any of the girls. Then Chakkie and Saartie were called forward. They were congratulated on putting in the best… second-best – performance of the night, but reminded the whole point of the thing was to remain alive afterwards so as to be able to report back to Filigree Street and claim the contract fee, less Guild tax.
"That suicide charge was impressive, but ultimately self-defeating." Alice said, drily.
"There didn't seem to be any way around it, miss." Chakkie said.
"Besides, the moment we threw the bombs we'd be ringing the doorbell end ennouncing our presence, enyway." Saartie said. "In thet event, my thoughts were thet enyone in the tower would hev other problems to worry ebout, end we could slip ewey in the confusion."
Miss Smith-Rhodes nodded. Saartie restrained a smile. That was exactly how a compatriot from Rimwards Howondaland would go about it. Simply and directly without undue subtlety. She decided to really push it.
"End I recall there was a famous case where a Zulu warlord was inhumed by a bomb in his own kraal…"
Johanna Smith-Rhodes gave her compatriot a long cool look.
"Ja. But the Essessin responsible did so under cover of a thunderstorm. The explosion was, es I recall from my own knowledge of the case, taken to be a very close thunderclep end a bolt of lightning. Thet does help."
"But she still got eway, miss."
Johanna took her time in replying.
"Ja. She did."
Alice smiled knowingly.
"Well done to both of you, anyway. We'll recommend commendation and a chance to accept a sherry and avoid the almond slice. Now."
Alice suddenly stopped smiling. Find Catherine Perry-Bowen and her team, would you, and send them here? Last ones for tonight. Then we can wrap up, and speak to you all together in the morning."
Saartie and Chakkie returned to their tent.
"From what I hear, they are going to have to eat the almond slice." Chakkie commented.
"Ja. Thet's if they're lucky." Saartie replied.
Deborah, Solveig, Catherine and Natasha stood in front of their two silent and unsmiling teachers, who were radiating disapproval. Catherine recognised Intimidation Technique Number One, the long silence, but it didn't make it any less scary. Then she spoke.
"Use of unauthorised weapons. Reckless expenditure of munitions. Such a complete devotion to accomplishing the contract that all and every method was an acceptable means to an end. Conduct verging on an unwarranted use of extreme prejudice. A heedless disregard for life, limb and even the structural integrity of a Listed Building, which by the way is on the University's Wizarding Heritage list. Lives put at risk, because all that mattered was completing the contract."
Alice turned to Johanna.
"Have I left anything out there?"
Miss Smith-Rhodes shook her head. She glared at the four.
There was another silence.
"Do you know, I think, after due and sober reflection, there's a word for people like you." Miss Alice Band said. She paused again, for added effect.
"And the word that describes all four of you is "Assassin."
Catherine's mouth opened slightly. This sounded like praise. Grudging and forced and given with disguised bad grace. But praise?
"Think yourselves lucky." Miss Smith-Rhodes said. "Two hours ago we were both bleddy furious, end we could hev happily inhumed the lot of you."
"We devised this exercise deliberately to set you all up to fail." Miss Band said. "Unfair, yes. But life isn't fair. We worked out the most difficult task we could devise, over ground inimical to a concealed approach, against an opposition who knew you were coming, could watch for you approaching, who had time to set up all the traps you encountered, and could pick you off team by team. This was to give you a taste of how bloody difficult things can get, without actually inhuming any of you."
"Despite provocation." added Miss Smith-Rhodes. "The only variable was in observing exectly when end how you would all fail."
"We were not expecting you to get anywhere near us." Miss Band added. "And we did publicly invite you to try to put a bomb under our feet. As an incentive to you to perform your best. So…" and Miss Band took a deep, deep, breath, "...we cannot reasonably complain that four of you actually did. So you will in due course be recommended for a sherry and a chance to refuse the almond slice. Now. Your account of the exercise, as you saw it, please."
The four gave their verbal accounts of the exercise, in terms of approach, methods used, hazards encountered and problems overcome, leaving out, by group agreement, the incident with the demon. Questions were asked and answered.
"Ah yes. The bow." Alice Band said, drily. "Interesting one of you should have somehow smuggled one in, when you were all clearly and firmly told the only permissible weapon-like objects were to be a general-purpose knife with a blade no longer than three inches, and/or a common pen-knife. Go on."
Natasha explained how she'd had the idea to use an arrow as a means of deploying the thunderflashes when they'd seen that there was no cover whatsoever over the last twenty yards to the tower. It had seemed like an elegant solution to the problem and they could worry about it being permissible later.
"You did say yourself in Planning and Strategy classes that any solution that resolves a problem is permissible, miss." Solveig said, backing up Natasha. "And we couldn't have done it without Natasha!"
Their teachers looked at each other. There was incredulousness there. Miss Lansbury shook her head disbelievingly.
"And I might have failed without Solveig's advice, miss." Natasha said, with earnest and ingenuous emphasis.
"Yes." Miss Band said, slowly. "I did say that almost every solution that resolves an operational problem is permissible."
Miss Band reflected.
"Let's say, for the sake of the argument, that I might overlook an illicit weapon being smuggled out on this expedition. As its use clearly gave you the advantage to complete an exercise to a standard well above all reasonable expectations."
She looked at Catherine. then nodded. The nod said "Well done."
"Including all informal expectations. A bow is a hard thing to conceal, Miss Romanoff. Might I ask, off the record, how you did it?"
"May I fetch my pack, miss?"
"Go on. We'll wait for you."
And shortly afterwards the collapsible stealth bow was unveiled and demonstrated. Both teachers were impressed.
"Hidden out in the open. Where everyone cen see it. The best place!" said Miss Smith-Rhodes.
"Ingenuity. Ability. Presence of mind." agreed Miss Band, flexing the bow and dry-loosing it. "And the weak point is where the two halves of the bow-stave are connected, but the construction, and the fact the hand-grip slides over the joint and reinforces it, mitigates against this. Probably not good at ranges over fifty yards, but the ideal hidden weapon to transport unseen, and quickly assembled at the point of use!"
She turned to Natasha.
"You made this in Craft. As a project." she said.
"Yes, miss."
"And your teacher in Woodwork gave you a starred A. Remind me to speak to him."
Alice smiled for the first time. Then she handed the bow back to Natasha.
"Dismantle that, and put it in a safe hiding place where I can't see it." she directed. "I'll overlook the fact you tried to blow me up tonight and damn nearly succeeded. Provided you make me one!"
"Yes, miss."
She could just have confiscated this, thought Natasha. I got off lightly.
"Dismissed." said Miss Smith-Rhodes. "See you in the morning."
They waited for the four to troop off. Then Alice asked the silent fourth person a question.
"Not a strong signal." said Ponder Stibbons. "But unmistakeable. If you asked me for an informed guess, I'd suspect it's something to do with Catherine's new eyes. Part of the psychic transference theme we were discussing earlier."
Johanna nodded.
"Unfair to penalise her for something wished on her thet she cennot help." She said. "I suggest we eccept it es one of those things, end see how it develops. This Igor surgery of trensplenting materiel from living donors is very new, end there is much we do not yet know. I would write nothing on her record, but we should continue to observe."
"I agree." said Alice. She reflected that her own heritage and the genetics of coming from a family of priests put her in a similar sort of borderline category. And nobody had revoked her Assassin's licence for it. "You know, I'm surprised she hasn't worked it out yet. Where her eyes came from. Or even asked who donated them. She's a very bright girl!"
"I fear she will." Johanna said. "In thet case, we tell her the truth? It hes been severel months now."
To be continued.
(1) Don't ask. It's nasty. And it's one of the most common STI's.
(2) Evil Overlord List, items six and seven. Assassins get to read this and learn.
vi) I will not gloat over my enemies' predicament before killing them.
vii) When I've captured my adversary and he says, "Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?" I'll say, "No." and shoot him. No, on second thought I'll shoot him then say "No."
* If it's of interest, the last couple of chapter titles are from the Blue Öyster Cult song Teen Archer.