Evenin' all! It's been a bit hectic recently – I had to write out approx 150 envelopes for the invites to my little sister's wedding (sniff – they grow up so fast!), and we're halfway through putting a new kitchen in. But I shall update when I can! Cheers to: Scribbla, Angle of Ice, Elderberry, DDR Freak, Mercuria, Ivan Alias, Intrikate, Merlyn, Maiden Genisis, Unseen Watcher, James Jago, Domino Falling, Twist, Tindomiel and Mercator! You're all lovely people! I will give more detailed thanks in the next chapter (halfway done, so it shouldn't take too long.) Again, cheers!

Chapter Two

Rufus Drumknott had lost the Uberwaldian ambassador.

It would seem rather difficult to lose a man who was six and a half feet tall, with striking features, a rather alarming smile and wearing old fashioned evening dress, but he'd managed to achieve it.

It had all started out so well. Count de Magpyr had arrived in his coach, driven straight up to the very doors of the Palace in order to avoid too much exposure to the morning sun. Drumknot had greeted him and began to lead him through the halls and corridors to the Oblong Office.

And then he'd lost him. One moment the Count was strolling along beside him and commenting on the beautiful array of artwork upon the walls, the next, Drumknott found his usual diplomatic comment of "I hope your [insert appropriate title here] will enjoy your stay here," received no answer. He turned to find himself all alone in the corridor.

Oh, dear...

He sighed and began to retrace his steps.

o0o

Only a few days gone from Uberwald, and Count Karl de Magpyr found himself missing his mighty organ.*

He very much liked music. He especially loved performing, and was known to be quite the virtuoso on the keyboard.

So when he caught sight of a hapsichord, unused and forlorn in a room off the corridor, he'd gone in to inspect it without thinking. He paced around it, admiring the mahogany sheen of the wood, lifting up the cover on the keyboard and idly playing a few notes. The instrument was in good repair, the notes sounding crisp and clear.

Magpyr's fingers twitched, hovering above the keys. He should be following that young man, Drumknott, up to see Lord Vetinari, but...

Oh, go on, just a quick concerto. A few minutes shouldn't hurt.

He flipped back the tails on his evening jacket and sat down, raised his long hands over the the keys, paused, then brought them down and launched into one of Bubbla's concertos. The Count smiled as the elegant jangling filled the room. Magnificent instrument, this harpsichord. Perhaps he would ask the Patrician if he could come here for a few hours a week to play.

After a minute or so, the Count became aware he had an audience. He glimpsed a still figure out of the corner of his eye and, still playing, turned to see who it was. It was not, as he had expected, the Patrician's clerk, but a young lady in the uniform of a maid, standing in the dooway. She was petite and slim, almost skinny, with wisps of auburn hair peeking out from her bonnet. Her eyes were closed. A small smile was playing on her lips.

The Count found himself smiling too. The expression of gentle pleasure on the girl's thin face made her look quite pretty. He was always happy to meet young ladies who shared his interest in music; sometimes, if he was lucky, he could persuade them to share his other interest, too...

He stopped playing, and watched as the young woman returned from wherever the music had taken her. She sighed and opened her eyes. They were warm and brown.

She noticed him watching her and quickly straightened up.

"Oh. Um, sorry, sir—" A slightly worried look took her face over. Magpyr got the impression that she often looked like that. Such a pity. She looked too young to have that expression all the time.

"My dear lady, whatever for?" he smiled at her and stood up, guiltily remembering that he should be speaking with Lord Vetinari right now.

"Um, for disturbing you, sir. I just heard the music and wondered who it was," she paused and grinned shyly, "That was lovely."

He bowed to her, "Thank you. I'm afraid I was on my way to see your Lord Vetinari, but when I saw this," he ran his hand over the cover of the harpsichord lovingly, "I couldn't resist." He grinned, and the young lady must have seen his canines; her eyes went wide. She stared for a moment, then seemed to realise something.

"Oh, you must be the new ambassador from Uberwald!" she gave him a small curtsey, "Welcome to Ankh Morpork, your Excellency."

The Count was pleased. He'd become so tired of dim, helpless maidens who pressed their hands to their foreheads theatrically and swooned at the mere sight of a pair of fangs. He was told that Ankh Morpork women were made of sterner stuff, and this young lady was coping well.

"A more delightful welcome I could not hope for," he took her hand and kissed it, "Karl de Magpyr at your service, dear lady. Might I enquire your name?"

The lady looked at her hand, still gripped in his own, with a stunned expression, "Uh— Mildred. Um. Mildred Easy. I'm, um, I'm a maid."

He gently squeezed her hand, and a pleasant idea occured to him. "Delighted to meet you, Miss Easy. I wonder— would you be kind enough to show me up to the Oblong Office? I've abandoned Mr Drumknott, quite rude of me, and I've no idea where it is."

"Of course, sir. I'm going up there anyway, that's were I work."

"Excellent!" The Count tucked Mildred's arm under his own and began to walk her toward the door. He glanced down at her and saw that she was staring at her gently imprisoned arm with that stunned expression again. It appeared she'd not experienced anything like this before.

"Um, just along this corridor and up the stairs, sir," she mumbled.

"Ah, good. That sounds easy enough to remember. One must be careful when one reaches five hundred," he winked at her, "The old senile dementia might set in."

She grinned up at him and chuckled. It was an attractive little laugh, husky and deep in the chest. "You're five hundred years old?" She stopped and bit her lip, "I'm sorry, sir. That was really rude."

"Not at all. I'm sure it must be suprising for you." He leaned down and whispered conspiratorily, "I'm actually five hundred and fifty, but I'm trying to pass for five hundred. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

She chuckled again, "Don't worry, your Excellency. I'll keep quiet."

Her eyes sparked when she chuckled. Magpyr smiled down at her and found himself wondering if she left her window open at night. "You have my gratitude. Have you met many vampires before, Miss Easy? Or may I call you Mildred?"

Mildred Easy looked up at him with her wide brown eyes, confused again. It was obvious now that she had no idea what was going on. This puzzled Magpyr. She was quite a pretty girl; surely she must have received some attention from the opposite sex by now.

She shrugged, "Um, well, yeah. If you like. I've met a few vampires here. There's Otto Schreik from the Times, he's their iconographer."

"Ah, yes. He is most accomplished. Those pictures really bring that newspaper to life."

"Our Mam puts all the ones she likes up on the wall at home. Some of them are right crackers – there was a huge explosion at the Alchemist's Guild last month and he caught it at the right moment. You can see all the pretty colours and the bits of flying masonry and everything. He was going to take some more, but Mr de Worde pulled him away."

"Oh? Why was that?"

"Probably 'cause a wall was going to hit him. He sort of forgets about everything else when he's taking pictures, Mr Schreik."

Magpyr grinned, "Ah, typical vampiric singlemindedness. I tend to get that way about my music." He sighed, "I rather miss my pipe organ back at the castle."

"They've got a great big one up at the university, your Excellency. I'm sure they'll let you have a go on that," Mildred said, "You'll want to be careful, though; I think it's a Johnson."

"Bergholt Stuttley Johnson? Remarkable – he's the chap who built my organ."

The maid looked up at him with wide eyes, "You had Bloody Stupid Johnson up at your castle? And it's still standing?"

The Count raised an eyebrow, "Bloody Stupid Johnson?"

She blushed, "Um, pardon my Klacthian, sir, but it's what we call him 'round here. He just didn't have a clue. He did the gardens here at the Palace and it's not a good idea to go for a stroll out there. The chiming sundial explodes every noon, and the ho ho—"

"Ho ho?"

"Like a ha ha, y'know, those trenches to stop cattle getting in? Only this one is fifty foot deep," she shook her head, "There's a beehive roughly a hundred foot high, and we use it as an aviary. It was scale, y'see. He got it all wrong. I mean, the Colossus of Ankh Morpork gets kept in a matchbox and four families live in a saltshaker."

"My word. I had heard he had a— unique approach to architecture. I will say that I've found no problems with my instrument. I must ask the Patrician for a tour of the gardens, they seem to be quite an experience," he looked at her again and smiled, "Or perhaps you might—"

"Your Excellency!" Rufus Drumknott had appeared at the end of the corridor and hurried toward them, "I do apologise for this—"

The Count held up a hand, "No need, Mr Drumknott, it was entirely my own fault. I should apologise to you, disappearing like that. Fortunately, this charming young lady rescued me."

Drumknott looked over at Mildred in gratitude, and noticed her arm tucked into the Count's. He rose an eyebrow. Mildred looked back at him helplessly and shrugged.

"That's perfectly alright, your Excellency. His Lordship's office is just up ahead, if you would be so good as to follow me."

"Certainly," Magpyr started to walk after the clerk, but stopped as he sensed a certain hesitation on Miss Easy's part. She was looking at her arm, still imprisoned in his.

"Um, I've got to go and um, do my duties, sir," she said nervously. Magpyr smiled and released her.

"Pity. It's been quite a long time since I've strolled with a lovely young woman. I was quite enjoying that," his smile broadened, "Perhaps we could resume this at a more convenient time." Unable to resist, he kissed her hand once more, keeping his eyes on hers.

She bit her lip and blushed, "Oh, you'll probably find better ladies to walk with 'round here, sir. Um. It was nice to meet you, your Excellency." Mildred bobbed a curtsey and hurried off, her face scarlet. Magpyr watched her leave with that faint smile still on his lips. Then he turned to follow the ever patient Drumknott.

* Mighty pipe organ. Pipe organ! You, at the back there! Stop sniggering!