III. Arrivals and Departures
The sun was setting over the Sto Plains and Cutwell was packed and ready to go. The Royal Cabbage Collector was going out as far as the village of Scrote to negotiate supplies forthe Palace kitchens. From there, Cutwell would have tomake his own wayto Ankh-Morpork.
Sitting on the steps of the Palace, he began to muse about the Unseen University - he had a lot of fond memories of the Library, and being chased out by the Librarian - a wizard changed into full-grown male orang-utan a year or two before Cutwell's graduation; he simply refused to be turned back.
Not to mention the old Archchancellors. Let's see, there was Weatherwax and Geriven, and that fellow just before the end of term...
Even the reek of the city seemed pleasantly nostalgic.
Sowhat of Ankh-Morpork itself? The frankly insane Patrician Snapcase and the hopeless City Watch were just two of the things Cutwell remembered about city life.
Two of the FEW things. Cutwell tilted his head. Maybe this vague amnesia had something to do with that bloody river. Something he'd have check out when he got there.
At long last, the cart arrived. "You! Bloke wiv uh pointy 'at!" hollered the Cabbage Collector.
Cutwell leapt up off the step (praising the gods for the Blacksmith Diet that enabled him to leap anywhere) and clambered onto the bench beside the Collector.
"Right - off we go!" shouted the Collector, less to Cutwell than to the spot where he had been sitting previously.
With a last glance at the Palace, Igneous Cutwell remembered the suitors that would arrive on Monday to attempt to woo the Queen. It was enough to make him consider skipping the reunion and running into the throne room for a conventional confession of love type of thing. Turning away, he heard the unmistakeable bass fanfare of Sto Helit.
The trouble with the gate of Sto Lat was that it was only wide enough for either two common carts or one aristocratic embassy. Unfortunately, Cutwell's common cart happened to reach the gate at precisely the same time as a haughty aristocratic embassy.
"Out of the way, you filthy little wizard!" snobbed a supercilious driver. "Make way for the Patrician's nephew."
"Ya know wot I fink of yah bladdy Patrishin?" howled the Collector, spitting on the ground. "That!"
Damn, thought Cutwell. He's from Sto Kerrig.
The loud and often indecipherable Sto Kerrig accent -which could pass for an extremely strong Morporkian one at, say, a Music With Rocks In concert - was famed throughout the Disc.
"The nerve! And what, might I ask, is so special about YOU?"
"I'm the Royauh Cabbidge-"
"We're nobody," interrupted Cutwell. He turned to the Collector."Just let them through," he pleaded.
"An' I'll tell ya somefink else-"
A dark head emerged from the carriage. "Cutwell, is it?" And it moved on.
Keli was feeling a bit down - and it had nothing to do with the six republican assassination attempts that morning. It was because she didn't have her best friend about. Best friend - that was the word.
Keli had invited the Duke and Duchess of Sto Helit to keep her company until the courtiers arrived on Monday, so at least she had someone to talk to.
Suddenly Keli caught herself on. 'What on earth would Father say!' she thought. 'I, Princ- QUEEN Keliherenna of Sto Lat, moping about over some useless wizard!' Her father hadn't been too fond of wizards. At all.
A fanfare at sunset announced Mort and Ysabell's arrival. A hyperactive herald, new to the job, burst into the throne room. All present rolled their eyes.
"Presenting the honourable Duke Mortimer Sto Helit, son of Lezek of- er- the Ramtops; and the noble Duchess Ysabell Sto Helit, daughter of," he faltered, "someone else probablyimportant. And their daughter, the Lady Susan Sto Helit."
With considerably less ceremony, Mort and Ysabell made their way up the hall. Keli stood up and went to meet them halfway.
"Evening," grinned Mort. He had finally grown into his own height in the yearssince becoming Death's apprentice; he had taken to wearing dark, simple robes, and today's were of dark blue silk.
And Ysabell had kept her fashion taste; the icy pink muslin confection she wore indicated that her sweet tooth also remained.
"Keli!" squealed Ysabell. After a definitely Common hug, she said, "Where's Cutwell?"
"Reunion at the Unseen University," Keli answered dully. She didn't like the knowing look Mort and Ysabell had exchanged.
"Oh," they smiled in unison. Keli rolled her eyes.
"Shall we?" she said graciously, gesturing to the dining room door.
As the couple opened their mouths, another herald - more experienced but also better supplied- burst through the doors. The Sto Helit herald glared enviously at him. You couldn't teach that kind of entrance.
"Presentiiiing Lord Edwin Nova Vetinari: son of Marietta-Susanne Vetinari; nephew of the Patrician Havelock Vetinari of Ankh-Morpork!"
A tall, muscled man in armour stepped into the hall. He wore deep red surcoat quartered with fetid green rivers and golden palaces, and his dark hair was mostly hidden under a jaunty plumed cap.
"He's two days early," said Keli, horrified.