Pair of Eyes 16
Retribution
In which there is a reckoning when the girls return to school. Catherine discovers the truth. But how does she deal with it?
Several weeks later. Ankh-Morpork.
The Assassin moved with ease through the streets of the city. Black-clad Assassins were part of the street theatre. People knew to let them pass unmolested, especially when they were dressed in working clothes. Some things were so ingrained in the habits and mind-set of the citizens that those who politely stepped aside to allow the black-clad figure to pass weren't doing it consciously, and were hardly registering the fact: this was normal for Ankh-Morpork. Where it was indeed possible to be utterly inconspicuous in plain sight.
Moving with grace and purpose and a certain style, the Assassin turned, with extreme reluctance, into Scoone Avenue. Anyone observing closely would have witnessed a slight drooping of the shoulders and a certain resigned fatalism about the otherwise keen young professional.
The student Assassins had returned from their field trip to the hills and checked in their issued equipment. Miss Band and Miss Smith-Rhodes had debriefed them all and normal student life had resumed. Without great surprise, Catherine Perry-Bowen and the others had listened to the gossip and informal news that was a staple of School life, and accepted that two of the forty-eight girls who had set out were no longer School pupils on the Black. The attrition had begun, then, that would whittle their numbers down, slowly and inevitably, until maybe as few as twelve or fifteen or so were left to do the Final Run. But neither of the drop-outs were from Black Widow House, who for the moment still numbered twelve girls.
"All for the best, I suppose." Maddy Selachii had said, thoughtfully. "If you can't handle it now, it only gets worse in the next three years."
"And we all thought you were the first." Sam Demisage remarked. "When that baboon got you."
Catherine shrugged. Again the uneasy thought came to her mind. Who exactly donated these new eyes? She pushed it away.
"I got a second chance." she said. "Thanks to the Igors."
"It was that field exercise." said Chakkie. "It's got to be a shock to realise how easily you could get inhumed if you're doing it for real. It starts getting personal then. You think – what if that tripwire was attached to a real Device? I bet they had that in mind when they planned it."
"Weed out the no-hopers and the half-hearted." Maddy said. "well, we're all still here!"
"For now." Chakkie said. There was a silence as they wondered who wouldbe the first to go from Black Widow.
"Better get going, then." Said Sam, standing up. "Miss Smith-Rhodes wants us at the Zoo."
They got up to leave. Catherine realized this would be her first visit to the new City Zoo, where Assassins' School students were regularly sent on practical lessons. Catherine had heard that a lot of this revolved around being unpaid dogsbodies doing the dirty work. It saved on paying people, apparently. And she'd been warned that Miss Smith-Rhodes used it as a means of conveying informal lessons. If you're cleaning the tiger enclosure, for instance, you had to plan it like an active contract: how to be where the tigers weren't, to have an escape route clearly mapped out if anything went wrong, and to know exactly when to run like Hells and vault a high fence. She was only partly reassured to know the Zoo employed golems and trolls, tiger-proof keepers who would step in if there was any real danger. Most of the time.
She sighed. She had been spared this since her injury back in the summer. Her tutors had accepted that her recovery from injury should spare her any possibly traumatic encounters with the large wild animals that had blinded her. Her scheduled lessons in zoology and biology had therefore been exclusively at the Animal Management Unit, usually under the benevolent and easy-going Doctor Bellamy or her teaching assistants. But after their return from the wilderness expedition and the field exercise, Miss Smith-Rhodes had smiled pleasantly, and remarked that the time was now right to acquaint you with the Zoo and its collection of wildlife. You will rejoin the class on Tuesday afternoon, Miss Perry-Bowen.
Catherine suspected this had to do with the large bomb they'd succeeded in placing underneath Miss Smith-Rhodes on the field exercise. They'd been assured there'd be no official retribution or sanction for that one. But she understood Miss Smith-Rhodes and knew what it meant when she smiled pleasantly like that. It was scarier than having her shouting at you. And there'd been another teacher, too, underneath that precisely delivered explosion… Miss Band was also smiling pleasantly at selected pupils and assigning extra tuition. Personally designed extra assignments, tailored to their individual needs.
She had been there, two weeks before, to see Solveig von Kugelblitz squelching her way back into the Guild and trailing unspeakable liquid. This had happened in the first week after returning from the field exercise. Solveig had moved with immense dignity but her body language had also made it clear that anyone who laughed would meet a very annoyed Borogravian noblewoman later, once she'd cleaned up.
She had been met by two Guild porters who very carefully barred her way, trying not to touch her or even to stand closely enough to register the undeniable smell that radiated and permeated.
"Miss Band's instructions, miss." Mr Maroon had said, respectfully, as befitted a Guild employee addressing one of the Young Ladies. "We are to escort you directly to the shower room. In the staff quarters by the stables. Come this way, please?"
Solveig had gone with them. She had been met there, surprisingly, by Natasha Romanoff. The normal relationship between the two, prior to the field trip, had been one of thinly veiled hostility and a mutual desire to continue the pitiless all-out war between Borogravia and Zlobenia on a more personal one-to-one basis. Mindful of this, the School, very scrupulously, segregated Borogravian and Zlobenian pupils.(1) Natasha was in Scorpion House; Solveig in Raven House.
"What do you want, turniphead?" Solveig asked, testily. "And don't you dare laugh!"
Natasha was deadly serious. She held out a bag.
"Do you see me laughing, beet-eater?" she said. "Look. Towels. Soap. Deodorants. Shampoo. Clean clothes. Good towels. The ones you get here are like sandpaper. And I wouldn't use the issue shampoo on a dog!"
"Thank you." Solveig said, after a clear inner struggle. After a moment she added "Natasha." And took the bag.
Then she asked the obvious question. Natasha answered it.
"Why? Well, do you think you're going to be the only one Miss Band sends out? There were four of us, don't forget. The next one could be me. And I'd be glad of somebody waiting for me with good towels, soap and clean clothes when I came back!"
Solveig nodded her assent. Then she took the bag, thanked Natasha graciously, and went into the shower-room to clean up.
Natasha waited outside for her.
From a nearby window, Miss Alice Band smiled slightly and turned to the woman with her.
"I'd better get down there to collect her clothes, miss." said Washable Topsy, the Guild's head laundress. Who'd seen it all with regard to Assassin clothing.
"Do remind her to remove any sharp or dangerous items, Topsy." said Alice. "Anything that could cause your staff injury. And thank you. I know this makes extra work for you."
Alice passed over a handful of dollars in recognition.
"Thanking you most kindly, Miss Band!" Topsy said. She didn't mind the extra work: Alice Band recognized the realities and tipped well. And in these circumstances, often.
Alice sighed. This was costing her. But she knew the realities. Noblesse oblige.
The omnibus full of Guild students arrived at the Zoo. Everyone else had by now been here several times before. For Catherine, it was all new. She took in the sights, sounds and smells and wondered at the fact this had all been bare fields a few months before. In some respects it was still a building site. New buildings and enclosures were going up all the time, and a small colony of building workers was established here, doing things like laying and surfacing roads, marking new sites in adjoining fields, and performing all the myriad tasks of carpentry, brick-laying, concrete-pouring, tarmac-laying and roofing that a construction site called for. Whole areas were roped or fenced off and marked as not open to the public: but just enough of the Zoo was open for business, largely what the other students assured her had been the very first post-and-fence enclosures quickly erected to house the animals recovered on the day of the Urban Safari. Members of the Ankh-Morpork public, having paid the entrance fee, were moving among the exhibits with varying degrees of interest.
"It's all new to you, isn't it?" Chakkie said, pleasantly. "Well, we're here to work, but at least we get in for free!"
Miss Smith-Rhodes was consulting with Mr Gregson of the Builders' Guild over some plans and concepts, but excused herself to greet the new arrivals. She thanked the teaching assistant who'd escorted the pupils over, then consulted a clipboard and begin assigning jobs. She glanced at Catherine, smiled briefly and without humour, and very pointedly saved her till last. Catherine was not reassured at all by this. She forced herself to display no outward worry and stood patiently to one side as tasks were allocated.
"Did you eppreciate your sherry with the Master?" Miss Smith-Rhodes asked, pleasantly. Saartie van der Plessis said she had, and that she realized this was a honour and a commendation. Chakkie N'Golante nodded, but looked wary. Miss Smith-Rhodes smiled, with seeming benevolence.
"The two of you very nearly succeeded in the field exercise we set you." she said. "We considered thet merited special recognition. But today, we are beck to work egain. Just to guard egainst eny over-confidence, you understend, you will both be dealing with our new ecquisition. In the necessarily quarentined hot-house on the concourse, there is a population of Quantum Weather Butterflies. You will be observing end tending to them for the next two hours. An easy tesk in the warm."
Miss Smith-Rhodes smiled warmly, on the face of it a teacher giving favoured students a pleasant chore.
"You will, of course, be issued waterproof oilskins from Zoo stores. Mr Shtetl will deal with thet. You are in the warm for two hours, don't look so alarmed! Off you go!"
Ouch. Sitting in a tropically heated place for two hours. Wearing oilskins. In a localized tropical monsoon. Nasty! Soaked in rain and sweat simultaneously.
Saartie and Chakkie walked off together, escorted by a large imposing golem keeper. Miss Smith-Rhodes smiled happily, then turned to Catherine.
"Your first day et the Zoo, Miss Perry-Bowen." she said. "Remain with me end I will take you on a femiliarisation tour. Shell we begin?"
And today, the black-clad Assassin has reached the outer wall of an estate house of Scoone Avenue. A stone wall rises for about four feet, topped with high ironwork railings, each of which terminates in a point. The whole idea of the wall and railings is to make a very clear distinction between the inside and the outside. Something about the high spikes conveys the impression that incursion is not welcome, and will be vigorously contested. The Assassin stops, considers, and them moves to a section of the perimeter barrier where plant growth and shrubbery obscures the view into the garden. This will be the place to break into the estate… methodically, professionally, and somehow communicating a tangible sense of reluctance, the Assassin sets about getting over the railings and into the cover of the shrubbery beyond.
Catherine would have enjoyed her tour of the Zoo if it hadn't been for a well-founded sense of apprehension concerning her teacher's motives. Miss Smith-Rhodes was pleasant, informal and undoubtedly proud of her achievement. And she wanted Catherine to know this. And her teacher was undoubtedly being sincere in wanting her to see the Zoo that had been born on practically the same day Catherine had received terrible injuries. As if this was demonstrating to her that something positive had been called into existence that day, and it was a shame she hadn't got to see it earlier.
"Baboons." Miss Smith-Rhodes said, laconically. Catherine felt she was being tested. She looked through the wire into the enclosure and tried to be objective concerning the creatures, who were going about the usual sorts of simian activities and hardly heeding the passing humans. As a couple of them turned beady eyes towards her, she fought down a stab of fear and made herself take a step forward, challenging them. She remembered the stuffed animal in Madame Two-Swords' office and the way it had looked comically ridiculous, wearing Miss Smith-Rhodes' bush hat. The memory dispelled fear.
"Good enough." said Miss Smith-Rhodes, as the animal lost interest, turned and knuckled off. "I em not sending you in this enclosure. Duties here demand close ettention end close security. Et the moment it is golems only."
Duties. I helped put a large bomb under her. What has she got in mind? Which interesting enclosure is she sending me to?
They walked on, taking in other interesting species.
"Rhinoceroses." Her teacher said. They paused and observed the animals. Miss Smith-Rhodes made some unhurried observations about rhinos and their diet. "Took a little recepturing, es you probably saw on the day."
She smiled.
"As you may observe, the rhinoceros eats a high-fibre vegetable diet. You may elso observe thet they excrete prodigiously. Ah, on cue! Watch!"
Catherine watched. It was, in its way, an impressive sight.
"Yesterday, I was very pleased to give Miss Romenoff end Miss Rust the duty of clearing up this enclosure. It hed not been edequately cleaned for ten days. There wes much excrement to remove. I noted things hed got a little sleck whilst I was away, supervising you all on thet field training. Things hed to be done to restore the enclosure to a setisfectory state. Two fit young girls, issued shovels end wheelberrows, were equel to the tesk. Still, it took them a good three hours."
Miss Smith-Rhodes smiled at Catherine, who was still contemplating the mound of dung.
"But this will not be your duty today. Walk with me."
They arrived at the gorilla enclosure. Miss Smith-Rhodes smiled again.
"You are wearing old clothes, es recommended. Good. We hed en incident here yesterday, Miss Perry-Bowen. The students essigned to this enclosure neglected to secure the gate when they left. They hev been spoken to. A juvenile gorilla escaped."
Catherine heard the story with a mounting sense of gloom. Apparently gorillas had a an almost exclusively vegetarian diet. This had the consequence of constipation which could be relieved by soft fruit and fruit drinks. To aid their diet, the gorillas were given fruit juice diluted from a concentrate. This was a treat for them unavailable in the Howondalandian jungle, they loved it, and it was rationed with care.
"Fortunately, our escaped gorilla got no further than the store where a concentrate of bleckcurrant end rhubarb juice is kept. Unfortunately, he then drank a gellon of the concentrate. The usual edministration is one pint diluted into five pints of water. Per day. This gorilla was docile end was willing to be led beck to the enclosure. But he hed consumed eight days worth of fruit concentrate. Ell et once." (2)
Miss Smith-Rhodes indicated a wheelbarrow, shovel, mop, broom and bucket. She smiled pleasantly at Catherine.
"In there is en ill gorilla with a bed stomach. He will eppreciate somebody to tidy up his enclosure. A golem keeper will stend guard. You hev two hours, Miss Perry-Bowen. I trust I do not need to put a bomb underneath you?"
She smiled happily and patted Catherine's shoulder, then walked away. A golem loomed into sight.
Miss Smith-Rhodes Left Instructions I Am Not To Assist You With The Manual Labour. I Am Here To Assist If The Other Gorillas Become Restive. I Will Show You Where To Find Water For Mopping The Concrete.
A week or so after Solveig's misadventure, a furious and indignant Natasha Romanoff squelched her way through the Guild gates. It hadn't helped that following the inglorious failure of her assignment, she had been met by several grinning Watch constables, among whom had been her cousin Olga Romanoff. Olga had run away from Home some years previously, first training in the unspeakably proletarian occupation of Witch, and by degrees ending up in the home for misfits everywhere, the equally lowly occupation of Watchwoman. Natasha found this largely incredible, wondering how a high-born Far Überwaldean of a Grand Ducal family could abase herself among the kulaks and peasants like this. In generous moments, she put it down to the embarrassing babiushka streak that ran in her family. Magic made people crazy. Охуел, in fact.
Olga had stepped forward, shook her head and tutted.
"See you're in a bit of trouble, chuivikha." she said. "Can't have that. For one thing, your walking across the city in that state makes you a health hazard."
Natasha had kept her temper with a huge effort. And the fact Olga had flagged down one of Harry King's honey wagons, and persuaded the goblins and gnolls manning it to take her back to Filigree Street, wasn't doing anything for her mood. It was just like Olga to be courteous and helpful beyond the call of duty in a situation like this. And never to let her forget afterwards.
"Family duty, dyevushka." Olga had said, straight-faced. "I know your father would be worried, and I want to be able to say to Uncle Dimitri that I looked after you and helped you out."
"Spassibo." Natasha had made herself say. It would be exactly like Olga to mention this in a letter home, just as an incidental detail. She promised herself, as she sat among the unspeakable vats and barrels in the back of a rattling cart, that one day she'd get one back on Olga Anastacia. One day.
And after finding her way barred by the two Guild porters who had respectfully said "Miss Band's instructions, miss…." from a safe distance, she found herself at the shower room normally used by ostlers and stable staff after a hard day of dung-flinging in the stables.
Solveig von Kugelblitz was waiting for her here, and wordlessly held out a bag full of towels, toiletries and clean clothes. She was trying hard to look impassive, but there was an air of concern and sympathy there, imperfectly concealed.
"Thank you. Solveig." said Natasha.
"You were here for me. Last week. Natasha." Solveig replied. "I like to think I nurture my mortal enemies. You never know when you'll need them."
They nodded, understanding each other, united in a shared experience of adversity, and both girls smiled briefly. There was a metaphorical crackle and trickle of glaciers thawing.
From a nearby window, Miss Alice Band smiled her approval of a lesson learnt, and sorted out several dollar coins in her pocket.
"Down to you now, Topsy." she said. "And thank you for understanding."
Catherine had felt concern and sympathy for the stricken gorilla, who groaned in his nest of straw and somewhat soiled foliage, listlessly rubbing a sore stomach. The other gorillas in the enclosure were pointedly sitting or reclining as far away as they could, appreciating the kind human girl who was doing the housekeeping for them. Various noises of Groink – oink -a-oink GROINK! were going on, directed at the stricken Junior. Catherine was not fluent in Great Ape and its many dialects in the same way Miss Smith-Rhodes was, or indeed the Librarian, but some things are universal. She detected exasperated parents scolding a child for not knowing better and for getting the sort of bad tummy after over-eating, that was inconveniencing everybody, you selfish greedy little sod. She sighed, and set about shovelling soiled bedding and…. matter… into the wheelbarrow. Miss Smith-Rhodes had explained that Harry King put a premium on zoo waste as it was comparatively rare and had specialized uses. It was a lesser but significant revenue stream for the Zoo. Apparently gorilla do's sold well to horticulturalists who grew certain Howondalandian special fancies in their hothouses. There was nothing like it for certain tropical blooms. It all had to go into a separate labelled bin at the collection point, a long way round the back of the Zoo on the service road. Which meant a long walk with the wheelbarrow, whose contents now had a certain liquid slopping quality to them.
She wondered if gorillas, chimpanzees and indeed gibbons saw life in the Zoo as not so much captivity, as lifelong residence in a five-star hotel with all comforts met. Which makes me the chambermaid, she thought, clearing up after a rowdy party, Ah well.
She speculated about the absence of orang-utans, a species she hadn't seen here. But not for very long. Ankh-Morpork had an orang-utan. The Librarian would not be happy about others being exhibited here. And Miss Smith-Rhodes was not a reckless woman. She was a living Assassin with experience, who reiterated, over and again, the fundamental lesson about being over-confident. She'd apply it in her own life too.
She suppressed a sense of alarm as one of the gorillas knuckled over to her. Large apes approaching her with purposeful intent would always worry her. But this wasn't a baboon, its mouth was closed, and it didn't seem threatening.
{{Groink – a- groink?}}
She realized the creature was insistently holding something out to her and expecting her to take it.
"Oh… thank you."
She accepted the banana and found a pocket for it.
Well, at least they know to tip the hotel staff….
A week after Natasha, Deborah Rust squelched back to the Guild gates. She was met by two firm but apologetic porters.
"Miss Band's instructions, miss. Please follow us?"
Catherine was waiting by the shower room door. Somebody had to, she had decided. And the four of them had been there together. Even though she had no liking or friendship for Deborah, she reflected that very few people did. And at a moment like this everyone deserved a little kindness and consideration. Even Deborah Rust.
"Thank you." Deborah said, accepting the bag of towels and toiletries and clean clothes. Even Rusts could acknowledge consideration, if only because a Good Chap Does These Things. It's Expected.
"Now go away."
Catherine grinned and went away. At least there'd been some grudging thanks.
Lord Downey poured four glasses of sherry and smiled genially. The four girls standing respectfully in the Master's office relaxed. They sensed what the next stage would be…
"Almond slice?" he asked, pushing the cake stand forward. "I believe these are Miss Sanderson-Reeves' personal special recipe. Fresh from the oven this morning. Ah well, perhaps very wise. They can be very rich, and you all live busy active lives."
All four had been in Domestic Science lessons with the terrifying Joan Sanderson-Reeves. She wasn't called Mrs Mericet for nothing. (3) Politely declining her almond slices was prudent.
Downey smiled benevolently.
"After receiving certain reports, I understand the four of you are here to receive special commendation for applying your teaching diligently and impeccably on a recent field exercise." he said. "I am, in fact, getting the impression I ought to mark you down, in your various ways, as people to watch as prospective stars of the future."
Downey steepled his fingers. It was an affectation that was spreading among Guild leaders and people in positions of authority, with varying degrees of success.
"Your actions certainly surprised Miss Band and Miss Smith-Rhodes." Downey continued. Something in his voice and manner suggested that he considered this, in some respects, to be a worthwhile thing, although he wouldn't dream of being so ill-mannered and inconsiderate as to say so openly, oh no. Not in front of pupils, anyway.
"Miss Romanoff and Miss von Kugelblitz, who between them came up with a wholly novel, unexpected and elegant manner of deploying a large exothermic alchemy device, in such a way as to succeed in an exercise which had been deliberately set up to result in failure, had you chosen a more conventional manner of approaching the objective. The explosion of this device, delivered in that manner, was wholly unexpected to Miss Band and to Miss Smith-Rhodes, who were somewhat discomfited by this."
Downey's enigmatic smile suggested that anything causing discomfort to two senior Assassins who might be perceived in some quarters as being too capable by half, especially if delivered by their students, was not necessarily a regrettable thing. Especially if they'd thrown down a deliberate challenge to their students to "put a bomb underneath us".
"I have no doubt their delivery of this training exercise to students in future years will be revised, to take this sort of approach into account." Downey went on. "Which helps us refine and redesign our training to make it more challenging and testing, and therefore to deliver a better educational experience. I thank you. I also congratulate you."
He shook hands with Natasha and Solveig.
"Miss Deborah Rust, who assisted and was present at the success of this enterprise."
His handshake with Deborah was unforced and friendly, although Catherine noted a little incredulity, as if he couldn't believe he was commending a Rust for exceptional achievement. His words had certainly been well-selected.
He turned to the fourth student.
"Miss Catherine Perry-Bowen." He said. "I understand from recent reports from teaching staff that you are exceptionally capable in skills like fieldcraft, night movement, stealth, concealment, detection of traps, and definitely in Escape and Evasion."
Lord Downey held her eyes, unspeaking, for some time. Catherine held his gaze, trying to look impassive. She reflected that as an Associate Member of the Gamblers' Guild, she'd attended a very instructive evening class in Essential Poker Skills. Madame Two-Swords had suggested she attended as it would be a most transferable life skill with many applications.
Downey eventually smiled, and offered his hand. She took it.
"This School values such talent in its pupils." he remarked. "We do prefer that you deploy them in positive and approved ways, however. But I'm certain that you are a person who is seen to abide by School rules, and will not be tempted to mis-use her undeniable talents."
And there it was, she thought. The deal. Don't do it again, or at least don't get caught. She was quietly thankful.
"Miss Smith-Rhodes is considering inviting you all on her course in Exothermic Alchemy and Deployment of Devices." Downey said, affably. "I understand she would like to have talents like yours exactly where she can see them and explicitly under her management. And Miss Band considers you might have talent for an advanced class in Traps and Concealment. Something for you all to consider for your Lower Sixth year, perhaps?"
There was more small-talk, and then they were being politely ushered to the door.
"A shame we never caught the girl who absconded after curfew the other week." Downey said, regretfully. "I understand the whole school was talking about that, and whoever it was will be viewed as a clandestine heroine. Still, we can't win them all."
His last words were "Miss Band and Miss Smith-Rhodes will no doubt be organizing informal extra tuition for the four of you, now you have succeeded in coming to their notice as able students. Miss Band expressed concern about possible over-confidence following your success, and the need to give you all a proper degree of humility so as to correct this. Miss Smith-Rhodes, I understand, always requires volunteers at the new Zoo to perform essential duties there. She is remarkably versatile at finding pupils tasks that combine necessary Zoo work with the opportunity to learn informal transferable skills, of value to the Assassin. I believe you will all benefit from this, and I defer to their judgment of your academic needs. They are, after all, closest to your ongoing education. A pleasure, ladies."
He courteously held the door open.
And in the present…
Miss Band took her time assessing Catherine. It was clear that her teacher was in no hurry and was taking a grim satisfaction from this. Catherine noted the half-smile on her tutor's face. It said we have a little unresolved recent matter hanging between us. Once it's dealt with, we can resume normal teacher-pupil relations.
"You understand why I'm doing this?" Miss Band said, pleasantly. Catherine nodded, silently.
"Good. I'm concerned that after your success in the Exercise, there may be a little over-confidence creeping in. That is not a good thing in an Assassin, and therefore I'm sending you out on the standard corrective mission. You can, of course, also take the point of view that this has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that you managed to place a large explosive device underneath my feet that bloody nearly ruptured my ear-drums. I like to think I'm above petty retribution of that sort, and there is the undeniable point to consider, which is that Miss Smith-Rhodes and I did actively, and explicitly, invite you and your classmates to seek to do this. Therefore we can't complain that four of you actually did, and two others got close enough to make our ears ring."
Miss Band smiled, and paused to allow Catherine to assimilate this.
"I believe Miss Smith-Rhodes has also used measures of our own to address any potential issues of over-confidence. But then, that's her department. This is mine. You know the standard mission, Miss Perry-Bowen. I will see you here later when you return. Off you go!"
And now Catherine considered the high spiked railings around Ramkin Manor. She was wearing a blanket rolled and knotted around her torso in the Far Überwaldean kulak soldier manner. This was where an Assassin would normally carry a coiled rope, but she was not planning any climbing on this one. Her strategy was in fact mapped out, and she was carrying minimal kit. She wouldn't need it.
Standing on the parapet underneath the spikes, she quickly capped each of six or seven spikes with a cheap ceramic egg-cup, bought at a discount pottery store. Then she unrolled the blanket, refolded it, and laid it atop the cupped spikes. This meant she could roll over the top of the railings without getting impaled. Quickly retrieving egg-cups and blanket, she concealed them in the shrubbery, sensing she probably wouldn't get to retrieve them. It was all cheap stuff she could afford to lose, anyway. The only reason she was retrieving the stuff was good tradecraft: not leaving it in place to alert any security that there was an intrusion going on. Remembering previous unfortunates' memory and sketch-maps of the layout of Ramkin Manor's grounds, Catherine made her cautious way directly to the Ramkin family dunnikin.
Let's get this over with, then…
Catherine laid down the backpack that contained only a towel and spare clean clothes. She took her boots off. She placed both where they wouldn't get splashed. She'd heard that if Sam Vimes was in a good mood, felt sympathetic, and you did or said nothing to annoy him, he might allow you to have a bath first before being sent home. She gathered that Natasha, Solveig and definitely Deborah Rust had all somehow annoyed him. They had not been given this courtesy. She took a deep breath and climbed up on the parapet of the dunnikin, trying not to dwell too closely on the contents. She took a deep breath.
"Hello? I know somebody's out there watching. Or else I wouldn't have been allowed to get this far. Yes, I'm a student Assassin. Yes, I annoyed Miss Band. Yes, she's sent me on the Vimes Run. But I know what happens next and I'm not even going to try. There's no point. I surrender. If it's all the same to you, I'm just going to save time and throw myself in. Then could I very humbly and respectfully apologise for wasting your valuable time, ask for a hand out, if you'd be so kind, and possibly a shower or a bath or even five minutes under a water-pump, if you'd be kinder still? Thank you!"
Catherine was so surprised to hear the amused, almost kindly answering voice, that she almost fell in anyway.
"I've got to say, that's novel! No need to go that far, young lady. Get down from there and put your boots back on!"
She smelt the cigar smoke before she saw Sam Vimes. He shook his head with amusement.
"Alice said she had half a dozen lined up for me." Vimes remarked. "Got to say it's all been pretty much the usual so far. Especially that little Rust madam last week. But I've got to say you interest me. You're doing it differently. Assassins are set in their ways normally, and easy to predict. Coming? Want to pick your pack up? I'll have the gardener collect the blanket and things you left in the shrubbery and you can take them away with you. That was a neat trick with the egg cups, by the way. I'll have to have new spikes installed that are too wide to fit anything over. And sharp ones."
Catherine allowed herself to be led back to Ramkin Manor.
"Alice usually gives me a rough idea of when to expect people." Vimes said, conversationally. "And as it's me you come here to see, I try to be good-mannered, and make sure I'm in."
He paused. "Damn, I usually have a Watchwoman on hand for this." he said. "Got to respect the protocols…. Sybil?"
Sybil Ramkin bustled over from the direction of the dragon-sheds. She frowned.
"Another one? I've got to say, Sam, Alice has been keeping you busy these last few weeks!"
"Would you mind, dear? If I'm inviting her into the house, got to be sure…"
Sybil smiled slightly.
"Sam tries not to frisk women he arrests." she said, by way of explanation. "He's usually good on that. Gets one of the girls to do it. Sybil Ramkin, by the way. You are?"
"Catherine Perry-Bowen, my lady." Catherine said. She added "Black Widow House. Errr…"
"Perry-Bowen, Perry-Bowen." Sybil mused. "Perry-Bowens over near Sproutington, as I recall. Good sound people. Francis Perry-Bowen's the local squire there. Town magistrate."
"My father, my lady."
"Heard he had a gel at the Assassins' School. And speaking of which. Sam wants me to search you for weapons. But we don't need to go that far, do we? On your Assassin's honour, are you carrying any weapons?"
Catherine swallowed. Nobody on the Vimes Run ever carried actual weapons, on the very prudent grounds that you really didn't want to annoy him.
"No, my lady."
"Oh, do call me Sybil! Saves time. And even if you had any weapons, would you use them on Sam if I invited you in?"
"No, my… Sybil. Assassin's honour."
Sybil Ramkin beamed.
"Sorted out, jolly good! Coming in? We usually have afternoon tea about this time!"
Catherine found herself sitting in the Turquoise With A Hint of Lavender Drawing Room, drinking excellent tea and looking at a full cake-stand and a salver of delicate sandwiches with the crusts cut off. These had been served by a large imposing butler, who had poured tea for them and then withdrawn to a position near the wall. Immediately behind Catherine, she had noted. Another addition to the room was a boisterous little boy of about three, who had taken a shine to her as a sympathetic female face and was trying to attract her attention.
"Let the young lady be, Sam." his mother said, mildly.
"She's got scars, mummy! Like Daddy!" Young Sam said, excitedly.
Catherine flushed slightly. This was not what she would have expected.
"They're not at all like Daddy's." Lady Sybil said, mildly. "Daddy's are big and obvious. He never got them sewn up by an Igor, did he? And, Young Samuel, if a lady has got scars it's considered jolly bad form to draw attention to the fact."
She turned to Catherine.
"I do apologise, my dear. If it helps, they're barely visible. Show up when you blush, though."
"Who did you fight?" Young Sam said, excitedly. "Daddy got his in fights! When I grow up I want a scar just like Daddy!"
"No." Sybil said, firmly. "You do not."
"Trust me. You don't." Old Sam said, benevolently. He turned to Catherine.
"Made you, now." he said. "That bloody day in the Park. With the animals. You're the girl who got chewed up by a monkey, aren't you?"
"Still got some of the animals here." Sybil said, reflectively. "They're moving over to the Zoo as and when, but young Johanna's asked if I don't mind in the interim. Jolly interesting chaps, aardvarks and armadillos. Armadillos even look a little bit like dragons. Fascinating to watch! They're even breeding out in the garden."
"What's it like, having a monkey bite your face off?" Young Sam asked, guilelessly. His parents went quiet. Catherine considered this.
"Just hope you never find out." she said, taking no offence.
"I remember the wizard, Stibbons, flying you in." Vimes said, to break the silence. "He got you to the Igors. Igor and Igorina patched you up. A little after that one of my Watchmen came in with a lot of broken bones."
"Sam felt responsible." Sybil said, helpfully. "He won't thank me for telling you this, but he saw Mossy Lawn got a couple of thousand towards your treatment."
Catherine now knew she wouldn't end up in the dunnikin. She had wondered if she was being given tea and cake first, as a sort of compensation before the inevitable.
"Thank you." she said.
Vimes shrugged. "Well, I hear Downey paid several grand as well. Miss Smith-Rhodes and the Black Widow both put in a few thousand between them. I bet Mossy Lawn made quite a bit of profit out of treating you!"
Catherine digested the information that her teachers had paid towards her treatment. It sounded like the sort of thing they'd do. To be a complete cow, you still had to have some sort of ethics.
"The Black Widow. Madame Two-Swords." she said.
"Yes. Remember her on the day." Vimes said. "Went over to talk to Igor and Igorina about you. Not sure exactly how it's done, but my Watch Igor is pretty innovative. He's apparently cracked how to make replacement eyes. You don't have to take them out of dead people any more, apparently. He just needs to take a couple of living cells from somebody. Just a scrape from the surface of the eye. Then they somehow breed and multiply if they're given the right sort of nudges. Two months later you end up with perfect copies. Took a scrape from the Black Widow's eyes. I remember she was looking a bit wobbly afterwards. And two months down the line he put the new eyes in you."
Catherine set down the teacup with exaggerated and pronounced care. She set down the sideplate with the half-eaten cucumber sandwich.
Catherine Perry-Bowen. Ask who donated your new eyes. They haven't told you everything….
"Madame Two-Swords. I've got her eyes. Or a copy of her eyes."
"Yes. You did."
Sam Vimes paused.
"You mean they never told you? Great Io!"
"Well." Catherine said, the knowledge settling on her like a bad curry. "I know now."
(1) The School also informally monitored their access to weapons, with more care than usual.
(2) This recently happened (October 2016) at a zoo in England. Whoever had to clean up the cage, after a gorilla consumed a gallon of yummy fruit juice designed to have a laxative effect – in smaller doses - must have been on the punishment rota. Too good not to use. By the way, the afflicted ape here is Junior, who ate all the daffodils in the Park. See my tale Nature Studies.
(3) But not anywhere where she could hear you. Otherwise you ended up having to eat the almond slice. The pupils also knew through the gossip network that she had an, errr, walking-out arrangement with Mr Mericet, the veteran Poisons master. It was held that this late-flowering romance was a match made in a particularly warped Heaven that nobody in their right mind would want to go after death.
Notes dump:
Things get bunged here as I do research. They may not go into this story. But if it's too good to miss, I jot it down to make sure it's somewhere. And I don't always edit these things out of the completed version transferred to FF. – one or two have slipped past. Whoops. Or even "nichevo".
Bentín ä
Your eyes are closed, but still they're showing.
Light the white flags of surrender.
Read more: Blue Oyster Cult - White Flags Lyrics | MetroLyrics