Mariel smoothed the soft material of her new wool skirt with nervous fingers and inspected her reflection in the mirror. A pale face stared back at her, two black eyes partially faded but still giving her a gaunt and haunted look. Her hair was, for the first time in memory, clean and clumsily piled atop her head, struggling against it's restraining pins. The figure in the mirror wore the white blouse and dark skirt of a servant, but they hung on her frame, emphasizing the thinness of her slight body. Although two weeks of good food had gone into her, and she had finally shed her starving appearance, Mariel retained the stunted look which so many girls tried to starve themselves into.

She sighed and turned away finding herself wondering what Tom would think of her mirror gazing. What any of them would think. Mariel bit back the sob welling up inside of her, forcing herself instead to think of the pleasures they would find in their new homes. She had won them safety but lost them in the end, if he had offered the deal again, would she still accept?

Remembering the look of joy on Jonathan's face as he learned he was going to sea, and the surprise the twins felt at going to school, Mariel knew she would. As long as she blocked out the image of Gracie, clinging to her hand, Tom's rough embrace and promise that everything would be all right, the sorrow of the twins, and the single tear running down Jon's cheek, hastily swiped out of sight.

The opening of her bedroom door interrupted her reverie. "His lordship is awaits you in the Oblong Office miss," the maid said dropping a quick curtsy. "And I am to assist you if you need anything."

"The…" Mariel blushed and ducked her head, hating to feel so childish, "the buttons on the back of the blouse…" She spread her still stiff and awkward hands helplessly, unwilling to admit to the twinges in her shoulder and broken arm if she attempted to stretch them in any direction.

"Of course miss." Once more Mariel stood still while another person helped her to dress. "You're all done up now."

"Thank you."

The maid must have seen the helpless frustration and embarrassment welling up in her eyes for she suddenly dropped her formal tone and gently patted Mariel's arm. "Don't worry about having to call me up if you ever need anything. I've had broken fingers before and know just how terrible it can be."

Just before she was out the door she heard a small voice from behind call out, "Wait!" Turning to the girl she heard, "please, what is your name?"

"Julia, Julia Edwards."

"Thank you, Julia." And the maid could see the slightest of smiles playing against the corner's of Mariel's mouth.

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"Come in Miss Daniels," a voice greeted her softly, stopping her hand before it even had time to knock. Mariel entered feeling slightly foolish, and her eyes were drawn to the Patrician as he sat, head bent over his work, behind his imposing desk.

"Please, take the chair."

She moved to sit in the small chair in front of the desk but was stopped as without raising his head he said, "no, the other chair." It was then that she noticed the second chair seated alongside his desk, with a portable writing portfolio set neatly on top of it.

Sitting correctly this time she noticed two things at once. The first was the special padding on the straight back of the chair. It cushioned her so nicely she could barely feel the aggravating effects of her half healed back. She glanced sideways at the Patrician, but as he was still systematically ignoring her she turned back to the second thing which had caught her attention.

The wooden writing box had, elegantly embossed across the top, Mariel Elisabeth Daniels. The fact that the Patrician knew her full name did not surprise her a bit. In fact unless she was very much mistaken he probably knew her age down to the exact second, every job she had ever applied for, the nickname Tom had for her when he was four, and various other sundry details.

Inside the box she found sheet after sheet of top quality smooth white paper. She let her fingers reach out and stroke it reverently. Gently she reached out and touched each of the inky pens, ruefully remembering her charcoal bits and makeshift chalk. Further exploring unearthed a gilded letter opener, sealing wax, and a modified version of the Patrician's seal, clips, envelopes, and lined paper for accounting.

However, she somehow felt there was more, and emptying the box she let her fingers wander over it. Closing her eyes she slowly modified her breathing until she felt as though she was spinning, glossing her fingers over the smooth wood as though it were finely spun silk. At last she found it, the smallest of lumps in the perfect harmony of the wood grain. Pressing it just so she watched as a small compartment slid out of the base of the box, just big enough to store a small stack of important papers.

Clever, she thought, but not wholly unexpected. She stared back at the profile of Vetinari once more, noticing at last that he seemed just a little too absorbed in his work for it to be anything but an act. This is a man who spins plots within plots, wheels within wheels, and secrets within secrets. At that point her mind froze and screamed at her to repeat that last thought. Secrets within secrets. Secrets within…

Without hesitation her fingers flew back to the open drawer and in seconds she had the false bottom removed. Underneath lay a far cleverer compartment, not visible unless one knew to look for it. It was thinner than the other, only able to store a dozen papers at most, but much more secret than the other. For indeed, who upon discovering a secret would immediately discount it's contents as false or unimportant and immediately search for another.

Gently Mariel replaced the false bottom and set the rest of the papers neatly inside the box, leaving out only one sheet and a pen. Setting them down in front of her she smiled and waited, if patience was what he wanted then by god he would get it.

Vetinari smiled to himself as his new charge discovered the second of the secret drawers. He had not believed that she would find it so quickly, when Madam had given an equally similar box to him for his seventeenth birthday it had taken him a week before he knew all of its secrets.

She had seen through his act as well, although in truth he had been reading the reports with care as well. But it was not necessary for her to know all of his numerous talents. After another few seconds which she let pass by in prim silence he raised his head from his work.

"Miss Daniels, I trust that everything is to your liking?"

"Yes your lordship." He watched with amusement as her eyes darted to the box with a knowing twinkle.

"Very well, in which case I would like to begin your training. You can read and write and do sums I trust?"

"Yes." She tried not to look offended at the slur on her education. "My mother taught me before she died."

"We will begin with basic correspondence, please copy a suitable response to each of these and bring them to me when you are through." With that he passed her a sheaf of papers and went back to the piles on the desk.

"If you please your lordship, what response am I to give?"

"Whatever you think suitable, I shall go over them before I sign." With studied nonchalance he added, "there is a little table by the window for your use. However if you prefer it can be exchanged for a desk."

Mariel glanced at the sunny window alcove, "the table will be fine milord."

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Your Lordship,

A most distressing affair has recently come to my attention. I recently discovered that all of the watchmen patrolling my street are dwarfs. Now as I am a family man, I am most concerned for the safety of my wife and children. And you know what they say about dwarfs. I have spoken to Commander Vimes, who was quite rude and blatantly refused my request to dispose of the miscreants. I am certain that you will be able to rectify the situation immediately.

MartinTaylor

Cheese Merchant

My dear sir,

I appreciate the nature of your concerns, however, the dwarfs are law abiding Ankh-Morpork citizens as well as members of the watch. They are no cause for worry, and I trust they will be treated with complete respect. The patrols will continue as before.

From the Office of the Patrician

- New diplomat from Klatch, needs welcoming letter and ack. of credentials.

Your Excellency,

You are cordially invited to begin your diplomatic residence in the city of Ankh-Morpork. If you will come to the Patrician's Palace on the third at one o'clock, bringing your credentials with you, the Patrician will formally recognize you and your party. The new Klatchian Embassy has been rebuilt on Filigree Street, if there is anything your Excellency finds himself wanting, please do not hesitate to ask. The city is at your disposal.

The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork

Havelock Vetinari

Queen Molly would like to request one (1) palace, 10,000 dollars, and a steak feast.

No.

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By midday Mariel had finished the last of the papers. She had written nearly a hundred responses and felt like screaming at the small minded complaints and politically correct replies.

Wordlessly she handed the papers to the Patrician and accepted the mug of tea she felt pressed into her hand. Breathing deeply into the steam, she sighed and let the tension she felt melt away. By the time she had finished loosing herself in the soothing brew, Vetinari had gone through the majority of the papers.

"Well done." He smiled at some of the wording and commented, "don't you really think this letter is a little pointed?"

"Which, oh him. No I most certainly do not, and if you had read what he had to say about anyone who was not a "pure and unsullied Morporkian" you would agree with me, your lordship."

"Very well." Quickly he worked his way through the stack, signing letter after letter. Mariel wondered idly if his hands ever cramped up from signing things. "Take these down to the first floor and give them to Mr. Grosbeak. He will see that they are delivered."

"Yes milord."

"Then you can begin this next stack here." The Patrician gestured to a high pile of papers, tottering unsteadily on the corner of the desk. Mariel barely suppressed a groan as she trotted the first batch downstairs.

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The stars were shining in the night sky before Mariel finished her work for the day. Wearily she placed it on the desk and stretched out her aching neck. The Patrician set down his pen and glanced at the night sky.

"I believe that is enough for one night."

"Thank you." Mariel turned, and began to leave for her room.

Vetinari's voice stopped her. "Are you not hungry?"

Listening to the growling of her stomach she paused. The meals she had received over the past weeks were spoiling her, she never had minded hunger so much before. "Yes, I suppose so milord."

"Will you dine with me?"

Puzzled she allowed him to lead her to a different room, a study. Here a sumptuous dinner was laid out on the table. Gallantly, Vetinari pulled out a chair for her and helped her in it. He's up to something, her mind whirred.

All through dinner they made small talk until Vetinari mentioned trade relations with Genua which were pushing up the price of silk and wool. This sprung into a heated argument in which Mariel forgot she was speaking with the Patrician and instead debated taxes candidly, as if he had been one of her brothers. By the time it ended Mariel was flushed and breathing hard, her mind more stimulated by his clever words than it had ever been.

Such a mind ought not go to waste, Vetinari thought. Standing he motioned to the chessboard. "Would you honor me with a game, Miss Daniels?"

"I've never played."

Mariel listened carefully as he explained the movements of each piece, battles and traps already forming in her thoughts. She lost her first game spectacularly. The second was a little better and the third greatly improved. Although she consistently lost, it was with less and less of a margin.

Only when the clock struck two in the morning did they stop. Vetinari ushered her off to bed on doctor's orders, staying only long enough to change the bandaging on her back. Mariel drifted off into a dreamless sleep filled with wily bishops, crooked knights, and pawns metamorphosing into queens.