Chapter 12 - Non Sum Pisces
If you somehow manage to move throughout the great city of Ankh-Morpork without being noticed you are, well, most likely dead. Or Death. Either one.
No matter how nondescript you are, no matter how mediocre, how average, how... fit in you appear, somebody's got their eye on you.
They're watching, and they're just waiting for you to slip.
She moved through the midday crowds with an ease befitting her apparent stature. She swung alongside merchants and peddlers and, once in a while, a worried and distracted watchman.
She was proceeding, and she was good at it.
Eventually she proceeded down the stairs and though the door and onto a barstool belonging to the fine establishment known as the Bucket, letting herself order a bloody mary and placing her carefully organized sheaf of papers onto the grimy counter.
She was taking a risk, sitting here in the cops pub. She smiled around her glass. No crime had been committed, of course, (of course) but a risk was a risk in this man's town. She patted her tight bun carefully to catch any loose strands, and set her cup down gently on the counter.
"Ms Strom," she said, without turning, and the girl behind her had to swallow her own heart.
"Ye gods," Carlin exclaimed, eyes huge. "Do you use this to inspect ladyparts? It's so... so... ominously twiddly!"
Dr Lawn carefully took the ominously twiddly implement out of the watchman's hands, laid it gently on a cloth covered metal tray, and waved his hands in the air as though he'd just thrown out of mice cadaver. "You may want to wash your hands," he said in a mildly tense sort of voice. "With lots of soap. The sink is over there. But what was this about urgent and humiliating animal care?"
"Oh," Angua said. "Well, that was sort of a lie."
Dr Lawn gave her a doctor look. "I see."
"Sorry about that," said Carlin over her shoulder. "It was spur of the moment."
"Young lady, I do hope you don't take this the wrong way... but it would serve you well to focus your energies more on scrubbing and less on, well, anything else, really."
Carlin went white. "Oh dear."
"Indeed. Now, Sergeant... what did you really want to speak with me about?"
Angua steeled herself. The scent of human blood was creeping underfoot in tinkly green waves of stench, making her thoughts dull and her teeth sharp. She had to do this like a human... like a woman. "Well... er... have any new wings been added recently?"
Dr Lawn looked at the ceiling in thought. "There's the intensive care unit in the Body Order wing... but that's not a whole wing, just a few specially-fortified rooms within an existing wing. And we put it in a year ago anyway, after that whole mess with the post office burning down. But no, there haven't been any wings added."
"But Captain Carrot said-"
"Keep scrubbing, Commander. If you know what's good for you, by the gods, keep scrubbing."
"Er."
"He did," said Angua, trying not to get irritated. The reek of this place... "He said there was a new veterinary wing. Do you have any insight as to--?"
"Wait," said Carlin, dropping the soap and staring at Angua's reflection in the grimy mirror. "Say that again."
"Er... 'do you have any-'"
"No, the other bit, before that."
"... 'A new veterinary wing'...?"
"Gods dammit!" Carlin groaned, spinning. "That damn sneaky bastard! If only he hadn't had to be so damn cunning!"
Bella Strom swallowed her heart and moved to sit next to the stately woman. Bella knew she hadn't made a sound... it was unnatural, that's what it was.
"Reporting," she murmured.
The woman took a genteel sip of her drink. She looked like she was supposed to be holding charity balls and organizing luncheons for your better class of impoverished individuals, but instead she was sitting on a barstool in a grungy policeman's pub drinking an alcoholic fruit beverage out of a glass that could be considered three different health hazards all by itself. "Proceed," she said, and smiled in what seemed to be intended as an encouraging sort of way.
"Sergeant von Uberwald is dealing with the authority quite nicely," Bella said, waving off the barman. "The Klatchian girl, Commander Carlin, seems to be fumbling a bit. But she's doing all right, I suppose. Better than... some."
"Mm. And the vampire?"
"Sally? Hmm. Not much to report. She seems to be going along with everything. Not like we expected."
The woman gave a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement. "How about our girls?"
Bella narrowed her eyes unconciously, respecting the secrecy and trust between them. "They're doing all right. The young one, well, she's still wet behind the ears... but she'll do well in time."
"It's good to know you're keeping an eye out for them, dear," the woman said, and gave Bella a warm smile. "Thank you for meeting for a quick chat with me. Unfortunately, I really must be off."
"Um, yes," Bella said, and waited for the door to close before she waved the barman over to her end of the bar. That woman... she was going to need a stiff drink to calm her nerves.
And outside the woman set off on a peculiar, and specially indirect route back to the palace, winding around two bridges, three marketplaces, and the Shades.
Four eyes watched her come and go.
The owners of the eyes would be surprised if they had the time to be surprised these days.
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