The Patrician was trying to shave. Noblemen normally had people to do that for them, but Lord Vetinari had views about men with sharp knives at his throat. He had a goatee with jaw-line extensions, which required a steady hand and rather elegant turns of the razor. He had, most likely, the steadiest hands in Ankh-Morpork.
There were problems this morning with shaving because of Hanna. She had stepped in front of the mirror. She was wearing a silk dressing gown and was smiling with encouragement. The Patrician didn't want to know what she was going to encourage him to do.
"Yes, Hanna?" he sighed.
"I wanted a quick word with you."
The Patrician raised the razor blade. "Surely it can wait five minutes."
"I'll take only two. Promise." Her smile widened. "I just wanted to ask you a small favour. The Ansbach division of the Brewers Guild is planning a bit of a festival for Grune15. I wondered if they could use the Plaza of Broken Moons that day for the activities."
"I will have to talk to the Merchants Guild." He tried to wave her from the mirror.
"I've already asked them. They said they won't give up their market stalls unless you tell them they have to."
"I never tell anyone what they have to do."
After Hanna stopped laughing, she said, "No, really, that's what they said."
The Patrician was mildly irritated that after only four months under contract, Hanna was already ignoring his raised eyebrows. They'd always been a potent weapon, the eyebrows. Just last year he uncovered a plot by some of his enemies to shave them off.
He set his razor aside. It was warm in his bedroom; shaving soap began to slip in minute increments down his cheek.
"What kind of festival would the brewers like to have?"
"A beer festival."
"My word. And here I was assuming it would have something to do with cheese. Why would they like the festival on the Plaza of Broken Moons instead of in Ansbach?"
"Because it's the social center of Ankh-Morpork."
Hanna helped herself to the white fluffy towel around the Patrician's shoulders and wrapped it like a muff around her hands. "The drinkers of Ansbach beer are too specialized," she said. "It can't just be noblemen and the few other people in this city who actually have good taste. There are plans to expand the market. Increase consumption. That sort of thing."
She dropped the towel. The Patrician's eyes followed it to the floor. The soap on his cheek had negotiated the sharp drop of his jaw and joined its fellows slowly trickling down his throat.
"Plans," he said.
"Yes."
"The festival is one part of these plans."
"Yes."
"The most important part?" Hanna gave him a neutral shrug. He nodded. "I see. And if I say I will advise the Merchants to move their stalls on Grune 15, you will let me shave."
"That was my plan, yes."
Their eyes met and held for several seconds. Shaving soap slid down the Patrician's neck like cold, thin pudding.
"I will have a note sent over directly," he said.
"I'll tell the servants to fetch a warm towel." Hanna went on tiptoe and kissed him carefully.
After she left, he positioned the mirror, refreshed the soap, and tried again. At first, it was hard going. It's harder to shave when you're smiling.
**
"Ve have to sell it at a loss, Lotte, or give it avay," said Hanna later.
"How are ve going to make payroll by giving beer avay?" Lotte paused to kick the thermometer attached to the starting tank at Stein's Brewery, where Thorsten was slowly adding small amounts of yeast to the liquid inside. Hanna trailed behind her, a sheaf of papers in her hand.
"I've calculated it. Ve start a new brand called Ansbach Beer, ve get all the local brewers to contribute from their stocks and ve'll divide the proceeds."
"Ve've alvays competed, Hanna, you know that," said Lotte. "The brewers vill never agree to vork together."
"They vill. Trust me. Then ve'll sell at a loss, but charge slightly more than the cheap beers. I'll make up the difference myself."
Lotte regarded her sister. "You said you vere running out of money."
"I'll find it. Ve have to invest in the campaign for avhile, and then you can charge vhat you vant."
Her sister rubbed the stubble on her cheek. "There's no guarantee that this… add-vord-icing…vill vork. And I'll be out of a varehouse of stock."
"Don't vorry, Lotte. You should be at full production vithin a couple of veeks. Promise."
**
She hit the bars first. Ankh-Morpork had no lack of drinking establishments, most of them rather impromptu hole-in-the-wall operations involving a slab of wood balanced on a few cinder blocks, a couple of barrels and some rude stand-up tables. Hanna aimed a bit higher, at bars where the customers could sit down.
Obsidian the troll, who loaded carts at the brewery, and the dwarf Putty Slipstone carried the samples strapped to their backs and Hanna did the talking. It was tough. Everyone agreed that Ansbach beer was worlds better than the Ankh water usually served. Most of the barkeepers had no objection to allowing free sauce to be passed around but when they heard the price for a full order, they politely escorted Hanna and company out of their establishments. After the third bar in one night, Hanna called for a strategy break.
"We're doing this wrong," she said.
"Maybe we should try dwarf bars," said Putty.
"They'll be more likely to buy from us at these prices?"
Putty shrugged. Dwarves were known to be exceedingly thrifty folk. And that was putting it nicely.
"This is the cheapest we can get it," said Hanna in frustration. "I can't afford to lower the price anymore." She started walking quickly, head bent, Obsidian striding behind and Putty trotting to keep up. She was thinking so hard she didn't notice a piece of graffiti scrawled on the wall of a closed shop next to Harga's House of Ribs. Up with Ansbach! it said.
"We have to be smarter about this," Hanna muttered as they turned onto Gleam Street. "Targeted. We need…" She stopped suddenly. Putty walked into Obsidian's legs. Hanna pointed. "What's that?"
"Watch bar," said Obsidian.
"The Watch…" Hanna slowly smiled. It was the kind of smile her sister hated. She waved for Obsidian and Putty to follow her.
The Bucket was the watering hole of choice for off-duty members of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch. It was not too clean, not too loud, not too classy. Much like a cop. When Hanna, Obsidian and Putty stepped inside, about thirty heads, some helmeted, some human, turned to stare. All conversation stopped.
Very carefully and not so as to make it too obvious, many of the watchmen straightened up in their seats and took quick glimpses at themselves in the reflection off their beer glasses. A few spat in their palms and attempted to smooth back their hair.
It wasn't that they knew who Hanna was. They didn't. It wasn't that she was particularly pretty or well dressed. She wasn't.
What did get the watchmen wishing they'd put an extra hour's shine on their armour was that same quality that had made Hanna popular with some of the leading men in the city in her pre-patrician days. Call it open, natural sensuality. She wore it as easily and unselfconsciously as a pair of gloves. It was refreshing in a city where respectable women kept their unmentionables so bundled up that most men could only give a rough guess where they were. Or what they were.
She smiled at the watchmen and gave a communal wave. "Hello, there," she began. "I'm Hanna, and I'm representing the beer brewers of the Ansbach neighbourhood."
There was an embarrassed cough. Another watchman dabbed a wet beer mat at his throat in hopes that this would improve the smell.
"My associates here and I would like to offer all of you a free sample of the new Ansbach Beer," said Hanna. "It's made from grains imported from Uberwald and Borogravia and brewed according to the ancient techniques that my ancestors brought to the…" She realized that the watchmen were staring at her with the type of look that said they were not really listening, only wondering when she'd return to the point. The part about the sample beer. To a watchman, free beer was even more enticing than unmentionables.
A massive watchman at the back with an open, clean-shaven face, raised his hand.
"Yes?" said Hanna.
"I heard Ansbach beers were made from real mountain spring water," said Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson.
"Well…they used to be…" Hanna looked around. The other watchmen seemed to have stirred at the mention of water other than what needed to be hammered, boiled and strained after it came out of the Ankh. "But now, Ansbach beer is made from waters from…" Hanna took a breath, "…the slopes of Cori Celesti itself."
There was silence as the watchmen considered the quality of water from a mountain inhabited by the gods. Pretty high, they guessed. The watchmen at the table with Captain Carrot bent their heads together, whispering. Hanna waved for Obsidian and Putty to start unloading the beer.
"How does it get here?" asked another watchman. Watchwoman, actually. She had long, blond hair and a look of controlled violence. Corporal Angua sat close to Captain Carrot.
"How does what get here?" said Hanna.
"The water. You said it comes from Cori Celesti. Do the gods just snap their fingers and fill a water tower up in Ansbach?"
Hanna cleared her throat to buy a moment of thinking time. "We… don't have a contract with the gods." She smiled. "Yet. You see, we've hired the Ice Giants to chip large slabs of ice from untouched glaciers. The ice is then secured in special wagons and by the time it reaches the city, it's melted into cool, pure water."
Corporal Angua stared at Hanna.
"What about aquifers?"
"What about them?"
"You don't get the water out of aquifers?"
In fact, the brewers did get the water out of aquifers, but Hanna wasn't about to be caught out in a lie.
"The snows of Cori Celesti," she said.
"I thought you said glacier ice."
"That too."
Hanna realised she had to work on her sales pitch. In her usual line of work, soliciting had involved a lot less talking.
Obsidian and Putty were busy pouring out beers and setting them on the tables. The watchmen looked at the glasses suspiciously. Of all people, they knew you don't get something for nothing. They were waiting for the hook.
"Drink up, then," said Hanna.
"We don' have t' pay, do we?" asked another watchman from Carrot's table, a scrawny man with a skin problem.
"It's our gift. From the brewers of Ansbach."
Reluctantly, the watchmen drank. The only sounds were of slurping, gulps and the scrape of glass on the tables.
"Have you ever tasted a better beer?" said Hanna.
The watchmen relaxed a little. It really was good beer. They started talking amongst themselves. The group at Carrot's table had their heads together again and were whispering heatedly. Finally, Carrot raised his hand again.
"You don't have to raise your hand, captain," said Hanna.
"Your name, ma'am," he said. "Is it Hanna Stein?"
All conversation in the bar cut off again. Hanna took a deep breath. She hadn't wanted this to happen.
"Yes. Yes, it is," she said.
The buzzing in the bar was louder than before and Hanna caught words like "seamstress" and "the palace" and even one or two "Patricians." There were a few back-handed snickers, but not many.
She waved for Obsidian and Putty to hand out another round of beers. The watchmen drank them down without hesitation. The entire bar was suddenly in an expansive mood.
"Best beer I ever had!"
"Refreshing, cold, no newts…"
"Bet the Patrician doesn't drink as good as this." The watchman who said this was smacked hard by several of his fellows.
Hanna thought it best to take advantage of the situation. "How would you like Ansbach to be the beer of choice for the Bucket? The exclusive beer."
"Too expensive," said Mr. Cheese, the owner. When she looked at him, he cleared his throat and added, "Ma'am."
"Not tonight. Let's discuss."
An hour later, the watchmen were cheering the news. Ansbach would become the only beer served at the Bucket. They pounded their approval with fists on the tables because Ansbach was the best beer in the city. Their enthusiasm had nothing whatsoever to do with Hanna's relationship to the man at the Palace who paid their salaries.
**
First thing in the morning, Hanna was at Pseudopolis Yard, headquarters of the City Watch.
Commander Vimes was at his desk, staring at a stack of paper as if the sheer force of his glare would get it read, processed and filed. He didn't look up after Hanna stepped into his office.
"Sorry to disturb you, Commander," she said.
Sir Samuel Vimes had what one could politely call a weathered face. It usually contained a scowl. At the sight of Hanna, the scowl metamorphosed into a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. He straightened in his chair.
"Good morning, Miss Stein."
"It's a morning." Her eyes were rimmed with shadow. "How's married life treating you?"
"Just fine. How's…palace life treating you?"
Hanna smiled as she took a seat by his desk. "Palace life is also fine. Life with the Patrician, on the other hand, is probably the same for me as it is for you. Normally irritating. Thank goodness I can cope with just about anyone."
"Glad to hear it."
They grinned at each other briefly, then Vimes shifted his gaze to various parts of his office -- the file cabinet, the pile of armour on the chair beneath the window, the crossbow leaning against the wall – as if they were exceedingly interesting.
Though Vimes was not one of Hanna's ex-clients, he thought he was. He had a fuzzy recollection of meeting her for drinks a few times when she was younger, before her skills called her to the attention of more nobby sorts. The memories were vague but Vimes knew there were only two possible ways their times together had ended: With him passed out in a despondent heap in his Bearhugger's whiskey or…the other way.
He was now married and off the drink but he was still a man with pride enough to hope that once, just once, he hadn't been that drunk.
Then again, there were some experiences he did not want in common with the Patrician.
"So," he said. "What can I do for you on this fine morning?"
"I have something rather delicate to ask."
"Wouldn't have anything to do with that graffiti around, would it?"
"Graffiti?"
"Political stuff. Ansbach arise, freedom, but spelled…" Vimes looked at the top sheet of the stack of paper he'd been staring at when Hanna came in, "…f-r-i-e-d-e-m."
"That's not even good Uberwaldean," said Hanna, who could speak a dialect that had died out 500 years ago in Uberwald itself.
"It was carved on the gates of the palace last night." Vimes waved the paper. "The Patrician sent a memo."
"I didn't see it. Last night I was at the Bucket. A nice bar." She started absently folding a piece of paper she'd taken from her handbag. "The Watch seems to be comfortable there."
Vimes watched her hands work the paper, creasing it here and there.
"I passed around some samples of Ansbach beer and the watchmen loved it," she said. "They have good taste, you know." She smiled, but Vimes kept his face neutral. "Yes. And in future, the Bucket will be selling only Ansbach."
"Bit expensive, isn't it?"
"There's a special."
Vimes was thinking about his dumb luck. He was born in poverty and was now married to the richest woman in Ankh-Morpork but it was just his luck that when he could actually afford to try a bottle of Ansbacher beer, he couldn't. It all started with one drink…
"The deal with the Bucket is at a significant discount, a loss for the breweries," Hanna was saying as she put the final folds on the paper in her hand. "But we'd really like the Watch as a customer. It would be a wonderful exchange if the brewers could add-word-ice that Ansbach is the beer of choice for the Ankh-Morpork City Watch." She stopped.
Vimes' face had frozen up.
"Add-word-ice," he said.
"Yes."
"That the Watch is full of drinkers."
"Not at all. That the Watch is full of men and women and…miscellaneous with excellent taste. Ansbach is not for drinking."
"It's not? Better for a good shower, is it? Watering the flowers?"
"It's for enjoying. A gourmet's beer."
"We're more the Klatchian curry, burnt crunchy bits, distressed pudding types."
"Would it hurt to change the image a little?"
His chair tipped back, Vimes stared at her for a while, an unlit cigar bobbing in his mouth as he champed it.
"Does the Patrician know about all this?"
"Not yet. I don't think he'll be very happy about it."
Vimes felt a smile coming on. He'd known the Patrician for many years and liked him less as time went on. Vetinari had granted Vimes a knighthood, and like most of the Patrician's gifts, it was one the recipient didn't want.
"What do we get in exchange for this add-word-icing?" asked Vimes.
"The brewers will confirm a one-year discounted contract with the Bucket and they'll provide all watch houses with tea and dart board replacements during the same period."
"We drink a lot of tea. And we need about ten new dart boards a year. It's the Librarian. He--"
"We'll take care of it." Hanna unfolded her origami butterfly and passed the paper to Vimes. "What do you think?"
It was a rather good drawing of a watchman holding a bottle. In bold lettering beneath was: "Ansbach Beer: Official Beer of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch."
"The Patrician won't like this, eh?" said Vimes.
"The Watch is a city institution. He feels the city shouldn't play favorites in business."
The watchman looked happy with his bottle. Vimes remembered the feeling. He handed the paper back and knew that a scolding from his wife was going to be the least of his problems. But it was somehow irresistible.
"Make it obvious he's off duty, and you got yourself a deal."