A/N okay this chapter is a bit dark in places but the rest are lighter, honest. Hope you like it.
Chapter 1: Mrs Palm's Story
Rosie Palm had been an attractive young woman with that kind of voluptuous attractiveness which involved curves and a talent for husky voices. Back before the Guilds she had been one of many girls living in the Shades under the protection of the Agony Aunts. They hadn't been Seamstresses then, not even Ladies of Negotiable Affection. The names she had been called back in the bad old days were one of reasons Mrs Palm had selected a somewhat more ambiguous title for her guild1.
However Rosie was a very capable young woman and not in the habit of getting herself into positions she could not easily extricate herself from2. To this extent her name had become her most powerful weapon and even the killers and barbarians that hung out at the Broken Drum knew that when Rosie Palm aimed a slap in your direction you ducked if you wanted to keep your head on your neck. The woman had a forehand smash like a lead bar and her backhand was no more subtle.
Unfortunately the finer points of female street fighting were not on the syllabus at the Ankh-Morpok School for Assassins. This did not seem to deter most of its scholars though and because she was attractive and known to be more than commonly intelligent for a street girl most of them sought her out for an evening's pleasure. At their expense of course.
Rosie was quite used to seeing the obvious shadows detach themselves from the wall opposite her house as she watched from her window. There was the soft tap at the door and the courteous request for Miss Palm to join them. They had heard about her from a friend. After that things varied a bit but they always ended with the boy handing over three dollars and saying he would mention her name to some of the other boys he knew when he would slope off looking rather sheepish and forget to notice the loose roof tiles that peppered the roofs of the Shades.
On one evening however, things went slightly differently. For one thing the shadows around the door were thicker and the knock was loud. The voice that called out her name was loud too; loud and arrogant.
Rich. Thought Rosie as she brushed out her hair before heading down the stairs. She heard the muttering voices by the door as she reached the ground floor. They were all of that particular upper class drawl which she automatically associated with students of the Assassins. Lots of rich ones. She amended in her mind as she began to calculate her nights takings in the back of her head.
At the door she dropped a fetching curtsy to the five tall young men all dressed in jet black satin and velvet. Four of them were arranged in a fan behind a well built red-headed boy who was obviously the leader of the gang.
"Miss Palm?" he enquired snootily.
"Yessir."
"Downey. These chaps and I wondered if you would like to accompany us to a little party we're going to. Nothing formal you understand," he grinned evilly, "just some friends a few laughs. Yes?"
Rosie had to admit that she didn't like the look of him or his friends. They looked like thugs with good tailors. But the proprietess was looking at her pointedly. So she shrugged and nodded.
"All right," she told them and left the house on Downey's arm thinking desperately about the money she was likely to make this evening.
The evening rolled along slowly and Rosie was enjoying herself less and less. Downey and his friends were thugs and they were taking immense pleasure in humiliating everyone they met for her amusement. She smiled and tried to laugh at it all for fear that if she didn't look like she was enjoying herself she would be next.
Oh you've got yourself in a right mess this time you have. She thought to herself as she watched the assassins peel the helmet off a young drunken dwarf in the city on business and taking the night off for a bit of a spree. They whacked him on the backside with the iron rim of the helmet with gleeful whoops until he fell on his knees and began to vomit.
Rosie had had enough. While her escorts were preoccupied with their prey she slipped silently down a nearby side street and walked slowly until she reached the corner when she began to run as fast as possible back towards home. When she reached the corner of Gleam Street she paused to catch her breath. That was when she felt the cold steel edge of the knife against her throat.
"Now why on earth would you think you could get away that easily?" whispered Downey softly in her ear.
The knife was so close to her throat she was afraid to swallow never mind answer him.
"Rosie Rosie Rosie. My dear girl we haven't had any fun yet and you wouldn't want us to go home without having any fun, would you now?"
There were tears in Rosie's eyes and she bit her lip so hard that it bled. Downey smiled darkly at her before leaning forward and kissing her hard. She could feel him sucking the blood from her lip and he laughed.
Somewhere in the darkness behind Downey where his cronies lay in wait for their turn there was a soft thump… and another then two more quite close together. Rosie heard them because she was trying to concentrate on anything but Downey, his dagger and where his free hand was going.
"Excuse me," said someone.
Downey turned around angrily.
"Wait your turn!" he shouted and then stopped.
"Well look who it is. Little Havelock the Dog Botherer."
Behind the big lad Rosie could see another tall boy dressed in dark grey. Unlike the black of the others which showed up easily because it was really darker than the shadows he was difficult to see even close up because the grey simply melted into the darkness of the unlit street. He was slimmer than the other boys too and his thin pale face had a peculiarly intelligent twist to it.
"Good evening Downey," replied the other boy. "I was wondering if I might have a word."
"Really? But can't you see that I'm busy?" Downey's voice was callous and he swung Rosie roughly around in front of him.
"Yes I can see however I don't particularly care."
"In that case, if you wouldn't mind waiting."
Downey pulled Rosie tighter to him once more but the one called Havelock spoke again before he could kiss her properly.
"Actually I do mind. It is a rather pressing matter."
Downey whirled around angrily.
"What is it then Dog Botherer? What is so damn important that it can't wait until after I'm done?"
"This."
Rosie wasn't entirely clear on what happened next but Downey suddenly crumpled up on the ground with a gasp of pain without the other boy seeming to have moved, although she couldn't be sure of that. All she did know was that the thin boy stepped forward quickly enough to pluck Downey's dagger from his hand before it did any real damage to Rosie's rather sore throat. He dropped the dagger on the ground beside Downey.
"Assassins do not threaten young ladies in dark alleys; it is the height of bad manners and more in common with a thief than a gentleman. You wanted like to be called a common thief would you Downey? Downey?" He poked the unconscious boy with his toe and smiled grimly. "I thought not. I'll just have to get them to send the drunk wagon for you in the morning. That'll make the third time this month; quite shameful. I wonder what you father will say when he finds out."
He looked up at Rosie and held out a hand.
"Forgive me. Havelock Vetinari, Student of the School for Assassins."
"Um… Rosie Palm," murmured Rosie, still staring at the open blade on the ground which had been recently so well acquainted with her neck. Vetinari noticed her look and thoughtfully kicked the knife into the shadow on the other side of the street.
When it was gone she finally looked up at him properly.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Quite all right. Now, where do you live. Not that I don't think you are perfectly capable of finding your own way home but you have had a rather nasty shock and I don't think you should be left alone quite yet."
He eyed her curiously.
"Downey tends to have a rather adverse affect on women," he added quietly as he took her arm and guided her in the general direction of home.
It occurred to Rosie that she should probably call for the Agony Aunts but there didn't seem to be any harm in this new lad, at least none directed towards her. As they neared the relative safety of the boarding house she looked him over and asked quietly.
"Why did you help me?"
"Because I can't stand Downey and I was brought up to believe that one should not threaten a lady."
"I'm a lady?" she almost laughed.
Vetinari gave her a sidelong glance and smiled wickedly. Rosie decided she rather liked him.
He paused as they reached the top of her street and she wondered how he knew that. He rummaged in a pocket for a second before pulling out a handful of coins and handing them to her. She could see there was easily twenty dollars there.
"I presume that that is your typical fee plus a bonus for, shall we say endurance?"
Rosie shrugged, she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The most she would stretch to was. "It's a lot of money."
A thought struck her and she smiled at him seductively.
"And would you be wanting anything in return sir?"
She leant forward and let her lips brush against his tantalisingly but he stepped back and shook his head.
"Sorry but not tonight Miss Palm, it is a little late and I should be getting back."
Rosie pouted although she wasn't sure whether to feel angry or relieved. Vetinari gave her another smile.
"You should see to that tear on your lip," he told her.
She shrugged nonchalantly.
"You going to be back down this way you reckon?" she asked.
"I don't know. Perhaps. However until next time Miss Palm," and taking her hand he kissed it delicately before melting back into the shadows where he disappeared completely.
Rosie sighed and trudged the few doors along to the boarding house where she handed over her rent and went to bed refusing to tell anyone what had happened.
For the first couple of weeks Rosie watched expectantly for a slimmer, deeper shadow to call but it never did and in the end she told herself to stop being to silly because he was never going to come. But that didn't quite stop her hopes from rising slightly every time someone said there was an assassin at the door. But he never came back.
Years went by and Rosie started her own boarding house. She looked after her girls and wouldn't let them go anywhere with a man who looked in the least bit sadistic3. And then came the news of the death of Lord Snapcase the Patrician and the announcement of his replacement.
When Vetinari formed the Guilds he sent out a public proclamation that anyone with reasonable grounds for building a guild around their profession should come to the palace to explain their cause. All of whom would be heard by the new Patrician. Rosie lost no time in confirming her appointment.
The first time the door to the Oblong Office was opened for her she had to remind herself to breathe. He was older, obviously. There was grey in his dark hair and a small beard which hadn't been there before. He looked up at her from a pile of papers on his desk and motioned her to take a seat.
"Ah Miss Palm," he paused. "Forgive me, Mrs Palm. I see you have petitioned for a Guild of what you are calling Seamstresses?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow.
She coughed a little uncomfortably.
"Ladies of Negotiable Affection yes," she replied carefully. "But Seamstresses seems to be a popular name as well at the moment."
"It is certainly preferable to some," murmured the Patrician and she blushed slightly.
"Quite. You see your lordship … well we are one of the largest um … professions in the city at present and bring in a good deal of money; something of an economic boon you might say. And I feel that my girls, and not just mine but all the girls of the profession deserve, perhaps more than most, the kind of security which comes from a legal state of business."
As she spoke she fingered her neck delicately in memory of what a lack of security could mean. She licked her lips and looked away uneasily. When she looked back he was smiling at her. The smile she remembered from just after she'd kissed him, really rather gentle.
"Of course Mrs Palm," he said softly. "I foresee no reason why such a guild cannot exist and I feel it would be in the best interests of the city if one were to exist."
She beamed at him and there was a companionable silence for a minute.
"You know Lord Downey is the head of the Assassins at present," said Vetinari carefully.
The colour drained from Rosie's face and she shook her head.
"I didn't know."
"Yes, he is somewhat reformed. I believe my succession has hit him badly and he is most anxious for the Guild system to be a success, or so I'm told."
A smile crept back onto Rosie's face.
"I don't suppose you could give him some special orders could you," she suggested coyly. "Painful ones."
Vetinari chuckled dryly.
"I'm afraid not, that would be an abuse of my power. However I can make things rather difficult for him in a number of ways. I don't think you need bother about him too much, it would only encourage him."
This time it was Rosie's turn to laugh. There was a tap at the door a disembodied voice informed them that the next appointment was here. The Patrician stood and walked around his desk as she stood to leave.
"Thank you your lordship," she said dropping a curtsy.
He reached out and took her hand.
"Goodbye my dear Mrs Palm," he said. "I do hope to see more of you in the future."4
Too bloody right you will sunshine, she thought. You're don't get away from Rosie Palm that easily.
1 Unfortunately for many clean living country girls this was not quite ambiguous enough and tended to cause a bit of trouble every few days or so.
2 Quit sniggering at the back there. I heard you. We'll have none of that kind of humour thank you very much.
3 Although with this being Ankh-Morpok it was difficult to tell.
4 I thought I warned you about sniggering. Alright get out you dirty minded bugger.