Terry Pratchett is just awesome, that's all there is. I can't quite figure out how he does it. I think I know what needs to happen, now I just have to figure out how to make it all funny. It's taking a while.
Chapter 7
***
"In return for the Patrician's advice and the free run of the palace, we do certain tasks for him, things that could not be done by any human. It is similar to the way you describe your own involvement in the city Watch. We make sure that the vermin stay out of the palace. All kinds of vermin. You met one of our guards on the way in. We also patrol all the secret passages and small spaces of the palace, the parts that even the most trusted of Vetinari's human guards do not know about. If you would like to see our officers at work – I was just going to go on an inspection tour. Would you like to join me?"
"Certainly," said Darktan. He was a little bewildered by the air of control that hung around this place and these beings, as if in defiance of the chaos outside the palace walls. As they started running along the passages, he noted that Skrp had a dignified air about him that suggested that if he had been human, he would be walking stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back.
***
Mantis knew the city well. Not in the way that a nobleman might, one of his colleagues at the Guild who specialized in annulling his peers in daring style over the rooftops of his own street, and many of whom rarely set foot on the ground, between sedan chairs in the day and grappling hooks at night. Not the way a resident of a more humble stature might, having walked most of its roads and alleys, knowing the true meaning of the phrase, 'the city never sleeps.*' They had some idea of the murky depths of the place.
[*The air of the city, which, as mentioned before, has a character all its own, is afraid of dozing off in case it gets stolen out from under itself;** or as one of many other assorted guilds may happen to it.]
[**In which case, it might actually be easier to breathe here.]
Not even as one of the Thieves' Guild knew the city, with its mazes of warehouses and old abandoned buildings, the ins and outs of the place, how to get where you wanted to go. Even they rarely thought of the depths of the city in such literal terms as Mantis.
No human knew the cellars of Ankh-Morpork as well as Mantis.
He knew its darkest half, the maze of forgotten cellars, buried roads and ancient sewers that lay under the consciousness of its citizens. The only ones who knew them better were small enough to crawl through mouse holes.
He crawled through muck unseen. All assassins knew that leather was too noisy, and satin too apt to catch whatever light there was. Mantis considered that velvet was too heavy when it got wet, and silk too hard to clean and too expensive to replace. Most of the time he wore a simple wool coat.
He had never managed to explore the cellars of the palace. There were really very few entrances. Someone had been making sure that even the very bottom of the complex was well kept up. An intelligent man indeed, Vetinari, to do so even when so few assassins would lower themselves to such an entrance.
Even when Mantis found what he thought was a way in, he had never actually seen what was on the other side. One large pipe that seemed to be heading in the right direction had suddenly flooded, just as he had started up it. His lantern went out. He decided that way was too dangerous. He had gone home soggy. He kept making squelching noises and he dripped in a trail telling everyone where he had gone. That was the last time that he wore velvet when hunting underground.
One night, when he had finished a particularly auspicious poisoning, he was hiding out, and got curious about the palace dungeons again. He tried a different approach this time, widening a hole in a brick wall that had grown just big enough for him, but not big enough for him and all his equipment. He found a fairly clean cellar, but that was what was ominous about it. A cellar that clean was an odd place to find so many rats.
Ordinarily he didn't mind rats, he was used to them, but there was something odd about these rats, and his assassin's instincts were telling him loud and clear that right now would be a good time to be somewhere else. So he left. That night his only mission was to stay out of trouble.
But tonight was different. Tonight the Patrician would die.
***
Bestbefore trotted beside Rth as they navigated the gutters, headed for the Guild of Musicians. "You know, I'm starting to remember this place. I should, I lived here half my life. But I didn't care about things like musicians then. That way, isn't it?"
"You may well know the way better than I," said Rth. "I don't leave the palace often. The city's dangerous. I think this is it, I can hear the drums in the cellar. We can climb this drainpipe up to the windows up there. Now, how shall we find your young rat piper?"
They ran up the drainpipe, and along the ledge under the attic windows. "Wait, I smell him," said Bestbefore. "It's that window, second from the end. Hey, stupid-looking kid!" said the rat loudly as he reached the sill. Rth looked at him strangely. "Old habit," he explained.
"Hello, Bestbefore," said Keith, who was sitting at a small desk in the attic room, playing a flute. "You know, nobody here eats strawberry yogurt. Hello," he said to Rth.
"Good afternoon. I am a messenger for the rats of Vetinari's palace. There will be a diplomatic reception in the palace tonight, and we would like to hire a group of musicians who are trustworthy, and not afraid of rats. I wonder if you could choose a few players you trust, and intervene on our behalf."
"I suppose," said Keith. "Wait here, and I'll get some people." He left the room.
"It seems he's had many adventures with you. Not much surprises him anymore, does it?" commented Rth.
"It's funny, but I don't think we ever surprised him."
***
Mantis had prepared, for one, by brushing up on his knife throwing and dodging. One of the few things that could be drawn clearly from the records was that in his first years at the school, Vetinari had competed at top levels. Unfortunately, Mantis had little idea how to prepare to face an opponent well-versed in language studies. He figured that if the balance stood at a place where what Mantis needed to do was remember an obscure root in Latation, the match was probably too far gone and he was in Vetinari's hands. Well, Mantis was prepared for almost anything, at least.
He approached the cellar that was one of the few places in the city that had successfully unnerved him. Nothing. No rats out here. He entered through the hole in the brick wall. Many rats. Going in and out of a hole in the stone wall on the other side.
He generally didn't mind rats. They were rather familiar, the little sneaks. Fighting, and biting, and killing one another. Actually he felt quite at home; it reminded him of the Guild.
But there were so many rats. All in one place, all crawling in and out of that hole that led to the palace cellars. So many! He knew that if he tried to go through, one of them would probably bite him, and then they would go into a frenzy, and he would be eaten alive.
And they were acting very strangely. He was usually very sure of what his eyes told him, but he thought he saw one of them wearing a sword at its side.
And he was sure one of them had just /said,/ "Squeak!"
He exited, fast. As he crawled out of the tunnels to the alleys of the city, he contemplated a more traditional approach. Climbing walls was not something alien to him. But he was definitely disconcerted by the incident.
***
Chapter 7
***
"In return for the Patrician's advice and the free run of the palace, we do certain tasks for him, things that could not be done by any human. It is similar to the way you describe your own involvement in the city Watch. We make sure that the vermin stay out of the palace. All kinds of vermin. You met one of our guards on the way in. We also patrol all the secret passages and small spaces of the palace, the parts that even the most trusted of Vetinari's human guards do not know about. If you would like to see our officers at work – I was just going to go on an inspection tour. Would you like to join me?"
"Certainly," said Darktan. He was a little bewildered by the air of control that hung around this place and these beings, as if in defiance of the chaos outside the palace walls. As they started running along the passages, he noted that Skrp had a dignified air about him that suggested that if he had been human, he would be walking stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back.
***
Mantis knew the city well. Not in the way that a nobleman might, one of his colleagues at the Guild who specialized in annulling his peers in daring style over the rooftops of his own street, and many of whom rarely set foot on the ground, between sedan chairs in the day and grappling hooks at night. Not the way a resident of a more humble stature might, having walked most of its roads and alleys, knowing the true meaning of the phrase, 'the city never sleeps.*' They had some idea of the murky depths of the place.
[*The air of the city, which, as mentioned before, has a character all its own, is afraid of dozing off in case it gets stolen out from under itself;** or as one of many other assorted guilds may happen to it.]
[**In which case, it might actually be easier to breathe here.]
Not even as one of the Thieves' Guild knew the city, with its mazes of warehouses and old abandoned buildings, the ins and outs of the place, how to get where you wanted to go. Even they rarely thought of the depths of the city in such literal terms as Mantis.
No human knew the cellars of Ankh-Morpork as well as Mantis.
He knew its darkest half, the maze of forgotten cellars, buried roads and ancient sewers that lay under the consciousness of its citizens. The only ones who knew them better were small enough to crawl through mouse holes.
He crawled through muck unseen. All assassins knew that leather was too noisy, and satin too apt to catch whatever light there was. Mantis considered that velvet was too heavy when it got wet, and silk too hard to clean and too expensive to replace. Most of the time he wore a simple wool coat.
He had never managed to explore the cellars of the palace. There were really very few entrances. Someone had been making sure that even the very bottom of the complex was well kept up. An intelligent man indeed, Vetinari, to do so even when so few assassins would lower themselves to such an entrance.
Even when Mantis found what he thought was a way in, he had never actually seen what was on the other side. One large pipe that seemed to be heading in the right direction had suddenly flooded, just as he had started up it. His lantern went out. He decided that way was too dangerous. He had gone home soggy. He kept making squelching noises and he dripped in a trail telling everyone where he had gone. That was the last time that he wore velvet when hunting underground.
One night, when he had finished a particularly auspicious poisoning, he was hiding out, and got curious about the palace dungeons again. He tried a different approach this time, widening a hole in a brick wall that had grown just big enough for him, but not big enough for him and all his equipment. He found a fairly clean cellar, but that was what was ominous about it. A cellar that clean was an odd place to find so many rats.
Ordinarily he didn't mind rats, he was used to them, but there was something odd about these rats, and his assassin's instincts were telling him loud and clear that right now would be a good time to be somewhere else. So he left. That night his only mission was to stay out of trouble.
But tonight was different. Tonight the Patrician would die.
***
Bestbefore trotted beside Rth as they navigated the gutters, headed for the Guild of Musicians. "You know, I'm starting to remember this place. I should, I lived here half my life. But I didn't care about things like musicians then. That way, isn't it?"
"You may well know the way better than I," said Rth. "I don't leave the palace often. The city's dangerous. I think this is it, I can hear the drums in the cellar. We can climb this drainpipe up to the windows up there. Now, how shall we find your young rat piper?"
They ran up the drainpipe, and along the ledge under the attic windows. "Wait, I smell him," said Bestbefore. "It's that window, second from the end. Hey, stupid-looking kid!" said the rat loudly as he reached the sill. Rth looked at him strangely. "Old habit," he explained.
"Hello, Bestbefore," said Keith, who was sitting at a small desk in the attic room, playing a flute. "You know, nobody here eats strawberry yogurt. Hello," he said to Rth.
"Good afternoon. I am a messenger for the rats of Vetinari's palace. There will be a diplomatic reception in the palace tonight, and we would like to hire a group of musicians who are trustworthy, and not afraid of rats. I wonder if you could choose a few players you trust, and intervene on our behalf."
"I suppose," said Keith. "Wait here, and I'll get some people." He left the room.
"It seems he's had many adventures with you. Not much surprises him anymore, does it?" commented Rth.
"It's funny, but I don't think we ever surprised him."
***
Mantis had prepared, for one, by brushing up on his knife throwing and dodging. One of the few things that could be drawn clearly from the records was that in his first years at the school, Vetinari had competed at top levels. Unfortunately, Mantis had little idea how to prepare to face an opponent well-versed in language studies. He figured that if the balance stood at a place where what Mantis needed to do was remember an obscure root in Latation, the match was probably too far gone and he was in Vetinari's hands. Well, Mantis was prepared for almost anything, at least.
He approached the cellar that was one of the few places in the city that had successfully unnerved him. Nothing. No rats out here. He entered through the hole in the brick wall. Many rats. Going in and out of a hole in the stone wall on the other side.
He generally didn't mind rats. They were rather familiar, the little sneaks. Fighting, and biting, and killing one another. Actually he felt quite at home; it reminded him of the Guild.
But there were so many rats. All in one place, all crawling in and out of that hole that led to the palace cellars. So many! He knew that if he tried to go through, one of them would probably bite him, and then they would go into a frenzy, and he would be eaten alive.
And they were acting very strangely. He was usually very sure of what his eyes told him, but he thought he saw one of them wearing a sword at its side.
And he was sure one of them had just /said,/ "Squeak!"
He exited, fast. As he crawled out of the tunnels to the alleys of the city, he contemplated a more traditional approach. Climbing walls was not something alien to him. But he was definitely disconcerted by the incident.
***
