The curtain rises on the Audience participation stage, revealing the Author and James arguing.

James prods the Author in the shoulder. "Why do I have to respond to the reviewers? I've already gone!"

"So Have I! But we've run out of characters. So you're up again."

"What about Carrot? Or Angua?"

"They don't count. You know that. I'm just glad we got them out of the green room. We'd best not tell the audience there are pictures up on my deviant site."

Can't Robin do it?"

"He hasn't been introduced yet!"

"Rosencrantz and Guildenstern?"

"If you mean your brothers in law, they haven't been introduced either! And if you mean the real Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, they're dead."

"Alright, alright."

"Egleriel, Thank you for being a constant reviewer. My mercenary skills will be used to beat up Carrot as much as possible."

The Author pipes up. "Frosteh, I do apologize for your hurting sides. I'll hurt them more, however, if you don't update soon! And I don't owe a cat at the moment, due to my landlord, but there are still several cats in my life, including Pickle, who inspired Carrot II."

James glares at the Author. "Blank Ned, if I recall correctly, I was originally more of a Ferdinand character. You'll be meeting the Ariel character soon, curse his hide. And again, we finally got Carrot out of the leather closet. I think that Protective is cutting off blood to some vital areas."

"ihadanepiphany, we can't tell you yet how Sara controls her plants. But you'll find out soon."

"Artemis-chan of Redwing, thanks for the review! Keep reading!"

James begins to walk off stage, relieved it's all over. The Author catches him by the vest and drags him back over. "And stay tuned after this presentation for a preview of Carrot beatings in the future! And keep reading and reviewing!"

Locks and Doors

Chapter 6: Reading Tea Leaves

Sergeant Angua had often been told that she had no gender on duty, and for the most part she had gotten used to it. She was 'sergeant', not 'miss', and corrected those who thought that the two extra large dents in her breastplate meant that she was a pushover. However, as she watched undercover (from a tree) the ambassador's wife carefully tend to her garden, her inner female was feeling quite a bit envious. It wasn't that she wanted to be domesticated- her inner wolf would never stand for it- but something about knowing the joy of being a family, or even just knowing that you were the most important thing in someone's world, made being a watchman- or a werewolf- the unwanted second prize in the game called life.

She stilled as Sara got up from her gardening, stretching her shoulders a bit before brushing off the dirt stained frock. Instead of heading back inside or going to the secondary structure connected to the garden, the former queen walked up to the wall where Angua's tree hung over. "Sergeant, if you wanted gardening tips, you could have just asked." Her voice held no hint of anger, but instead a humorous undertone that made the spying nothing more than a simple joke.

Angua was unsure how to respond- if she didn't, would Sara go on, thinking she had imagined a watchman in her tree? Who was she kidding- the woman didn't strike her as one to accuse a tree without good cause. "How did you know?"

"I heard of plants doing a lot of things, but sighing isn't really one of them- at least, not around here. Would you like to come in for some tea? It's rather chilly out, and you can still tell your Commander you kept an eye on me."

Angua had to admit that sounded better than staying in the tree. Her bottom was getting sore sitting on this tree branch, and a cup of tea might do something to stave off the chill of late autumn. Carefully, she shambled out of the tree, onto the wall and then down onto the stone path of the garden. "Was I really that loud?"

"Not particularly, but were women. We generally will hear another woman's misery than anyone else. And I have to say, you don't sound like you're having a good day. And I don't think it has to do with wolves being unaccustomed to trees."

Angua nodded a moment before the words got to her brain. She turned sharply. "How do you-?"

Sara ducked her head apologetically. "I heard about the Watch having a werewolf, and saw you with the captain a couple nights past. Unlike Mr. de Worde, I do know that hair color is a factor in a werewolf's appearance. There aren't very many blonde females on the Watch, are there?"

The ousted werewolf nodded distantly. "You've met others?"

"A couple. Myrrna has several clans up in the mountain region. They're more of a nomadic group of people than in Uberwald, from what I understand. But they're good folk. Even helped out when Genua decided to try and invade through a mountain pass." She unlocked the back door of the house, leading to a cozy little kitchen, complete with a swamp dragon stove and an indoor pump basin. Dozens of herbs dangled upside down from the ceiling, in various states of dehydration. Angua breathed in the wondrous smells, reveling in the cleansing effect it had on her nose- she'd hadn't been able to breathe like this since she'd been in Ankh-Morpork.

"I'm not a werewolf, but I still spent a lot of my childhood outside of cities. I don't know how you people manage to stand it- the river alone could kill someone." She walked over to a line of what Angua smelled were tea leaves. "Any particular tea you prefer? I have vanilla, black, Patrician, peppermint and licorice. Rosehip and Klatchian are ready yet for brewing, I'm afraid."

Angua shook her head, slightly distracted. "Vanilla, I guess. With criminals using peppermint spray lately, I don't think I can stand it anymore." She watched Sara unhook a vanilla bean and a bundle of tea leaves. "How do you know so much about herbs? Whatever you gave Carrot really kept the swelling down. Isn't royalty generally within cities?"

Sara shrugged as she dropped the concoction into a teapot and fed the dragon a charcoal brisket. "Even as Myrrnatian royalty goes, I'm a bit of an oddball. Not the most pleasant thing to born into, let me tell you right off, no matter what they tell you. You can't turn around and say 'You know, I really think I want to be a painter' and enroll in art school. Being a girl just makes it worse." She plopped down into an old chair and motioned Angua to sit in the other across the table. "I suspect it's a little like being a werewolf. But that's just my opinion."

Except you get to don't deal with fleas, Angua thought, but she had to admit it sounded a little similar to her own familial problems. "Still doesn't explain a queen drying her own tea, though."

A lopsided grin fell over Sara's face. "Or how a werewolf ends up being a Watchwoman dating a dwarf." Angua rolled her eyes at that. "Tell you what. You tell me how you decided to join the force, and I'll tell you a little about myself. Sound fair?"

Angua had to agree. So she explained how she had managed to spot a poster for the Watch after realizing being a seamstress was not how she wanted to spend her evenings. Sara listened intently, even as she pulled the tea kettle off the dragon and poured them both two large mug-fulls. She didn't give most of the details how she and Carrot ended up together- that was something even a watchwoman didn't mention in polite company. Sara seemed to get the idea, however, but politely hid her smile in her mug.

"-and Carrot got promoted to Captain, and Mr. Vimes became the commander." Angua finished. "Not exactly a fairytale ending- or even a beginning for that matter, but we seem to make it work."

A faraway humor danced across the features of the older woman. "Fairytales are overrated, if you ask me. They lead people to have misconceptions about anything they don't know about. But I think we both know about that." Her smile slipped into a bit of a smirk. "Seven Hells, if it weren't for fairytales, I would have never gotten into this mess of a life."

Sara swilled the remaining tea in her mug, as if divining her past. "Tell me, what would you say if I told you that I was originally a prince?"

Angua choked on a mouthful of tea. Coughing a bit, she tried to make sense of what was just said. "What?" She managed weakly.

The grin was back again. "Oh, I've always been a girl; don't worry about that. Let me back up and explain.

Myrrna has always been a bit of an odd place- there's still areas of wild magic running about, and different species have been forced to coexist for quite a while. We've always been a bunch of misfits, and it takes a lot more than someone with a crown and some great ancestor to get it all to work. A child has to pass a series of tests in order to become an heir apparent-don't ask me how the tradition started, but it seems to have worked for hundreds of years.

When I was born, the first two tests were presided over by six appointed lords. Since they're all chosen by their peers by hidden vote, there's no way they can conspire to fake the results. Only after they finish the first tests is a birth officially announced. This is all well and good, but several of those lords were, well to put it bluntly, old. And they were used to tradition. So when they performed the tests and I passed- no one checked the sex of the new heir. Before anyone could stop them, they had announced the birth of a viable, healthy prince." She rolled her eyes.

Angua hid her laughter behind her hand. "Oh, no…you're kidding."

Sara winced. "I wish! Dad tried to explain, but then people thought there were twins! It didn't help that my brothers were twins either. They too passed the trials of birth. I was first and held precedence, but I was a girl." She looked away, letting out a sigh. "I wondered if I would have been happier if I had let them take the throne. But we can't always have our way."

"Heirs had always been trained as knights to better lead the armies and understand the personal pains of their people. People knew I existed, even if they thought I was a boy, so they couldn't simply send me to be a proper lady. So I was trained as a field medic at first, keep my identity a secret. That's where I learned so much about herbology."

Angua blinked. "How did you manage to become Queen then? And who's ruling Myrrna now? One of your brothers?"

A staccato of laughter startled the watchwoman. Sara waggled a finger, tsking. "That's a story for another day. But if you must know, my father still sits on the throne. My brothers never took the final test for the crown." A sudden sobriety enveloped her. "I hope you understand that I can't tell you everything. You've done a lot for me, and I feel bad if secrets kept us from being friends."

Angua was confused. "Friends?"

Sara blushed slightly and ducked her head. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be presumptuous. I don't have many here. It seems the nobility here only believes in allies." She looked at the bottom of her mug. "Allies don't have tea and talk about life. Allies stab each other in the back."

Angua grimaced weakly. She smelled so honest when she said that. "I don't know if a werewolf makes a very good friend…"

Sara stuck out her tongue. "Let me decide that. Everyone's allowed to have their quirks."

"I don't think being a werewolf counts as a quirk…"

"Most would say the same about being a formal queen."

"Point." Angua wasn't sure what to say next, and was relieved when the small clock on the wall chimed the hour. "I'd better get back to the Watch House. Mr. Vimes will want me to check in with him before signing off."

"Oh, dear. I've kept you much longer than I should have." She cleared the mugs into the sink. "Do you mind if I walk with you? I don't want you getting in trouble for me catching you, and with James off teaching, I've got nothing to do around the house."

Angua shrugged. "Sure, I-wait, 'teaching'?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Yes, beginner music theory at the Guild of Musicians. I feel sorry for the poor things; he takes it a bit too seriously at times."

Angua processed this, a low groan building at the back of her throat. "Oh, no. Carrot…"

The ambassador's wife blinked. "You mean…Oh dear. I've heard the Captain isn't very good at undercover work."

"He's isn't; he's terrible at it. He thinks it's wrong to hide the fact that you're a cop; not that you could disguise him anyway. But no one else would volunteer, after the, er, incident at the Bucket." And the fact that he's a mercenary had several decide they had last minute funerals to attend.

"I can see that. James isn't the easiest man to get along with. I take it that Vetinari mentioning his former occupation wasn't very helpful in that regard either."

"You knew that we knew?"

A sly smile reminded Angua that Sara wasn't a simple noble; she had once been very aware of the intricacies of power. "Your Patrician was very thorough in his information gathering. So were we. I'd have been rather disappointed if he didn't manage to find it out."

Angua scratched her cheek absently. "I can see that, I guess." Another thought weighed her down. "Do you know what your husband and carrot talked about after they left the Bucket? It's just, well, Carrot's been acting a bit…odd, since then." If you can describe catching him stealing glances at her whenever they were together, and him being rather quiet odd.

"Besides the whole bit about calling him sir, no. James wouldn't tell me what they talked about. But…" She shook her head. "He just said something about old mistakes. Sorry."

They paused for a moment while Sara locked the front door of the Embassy. "I wouldn't worry too much, though. Men are incredibly fickle when it comes to relationships. You just have to be patient."

Angua sighed. "Carrot's not like everyone else."

"I would hope not. What's the point of dating everyone else? And I take it you're not talking about the whole raised by dwarf bit."

A sigh escaped the beleaguered watchwoman. "Yes. Carrot's wonderful, for the most part, but it won't work. One day people will figure it out and I won't be able to stay, and who know what it will do to him…"

"That's a very stupid way of thinking, if you want my honest opinion. But I can understand it's frightening. James said it too." She, too, sighed. "He didn't know who I was for a while. When he found out, he figured it would be for the best if we didn't see each other anymore."

"What did you do?"

"Threw a tankard at him, actually. And about anything else I could get my hands on. He needed twelve stitches." She shrugged. "I told him you can't decide what's best for anyone else but yourself, and when you get to those problems, it's a lot easier to cross them when you got someone you can trust with all your heart by your side. After he regained consciousness, of course."

"And that worked?"

"Of course not. It took a war and an assassination plot to get him to figure it out."

Angua digested this. "I used to think my love life was bizarre. I almost think you're pulling my tail."

"I wish. Anyways, if the king and queen of Lancre can do it, and we can, why not you and your dwarf?"

"Very funny. Do you know how hard it is to drop naughty hints when your boyfriend's concept of subtext is footnotes?"

Sara blinked. "You're kidding me. How do you survive?"

"Barely. The only way seems to be direct force. And that's hard when he's six foot six." Angua grumbled.

"You know, I was going to suggest we go save him from James, but right now I think he may deserve having the stuffing kicked out of him." Sara grinned. "And maybe after work we'll take you lingerie shopping."

Angua glared at her. "Um, wolves and lots of strappy things do not work well."

The grin was taking on a downright evil look to it. "Oh, lingerie is not for wearing, mostly. It's for dropping hints even the Captain would have a hard time ignoring. I mean, you could simply stick it in his locker…"

"He'd probably think it was some sort of new cloth for buffing armor."

"…We're really going to have to work on him, aren't we?"

"I've given up, in all honesty."

Sara tsked. "Never say never. Perhaps if we consulted the memoirs of Casanunda we can get hints on getting through dwarf literalism."

Angua had to admit she hadn't thought about this. "I must say you're scaring me the amount of thought you've put into this."

A laugh escaped Sara as she walked ahead and spun around. "It's fun! Plus, can you blame me for wanting my future child to have playmates?"

"Yes!" But the laughter was infectious. If anyone wondered why the top watchwoman and a noble lady were having a hard time breathing, well, they ought to know better. Ankh-Morpork was never known for being normal.

Unbeknownst to anyone in Ankh-Morpork, a stranger was walking towards their city with a bit swagger and the occasional detour towards a lady of interest. But he was heading towards Ankh-Morpork, bringing trouble in every stitch of his patchwork coat.

dadadum...

"And now," The Author coughs, "We promised to continue beating of sense into Captain Carrot. So, without further ado…."

Carrot is seen running, much like a lion with its tail on fire, from stage left. James, wearing all black, launches after him, hands outstretched like claws. "Oh, come back here you wuss!"

The Author watches for a moment. "I guess this will have to wait until James catches him. Maybe next time."