Strandpiel Book Two
Chapter Fourteen
Dasvidanya, part two - Interlude, Intermission, caught between the Realms
In which an old Witch departs. Not without surprises along the way
Overlaps The Price of Flight chapter one which will be heavily referenced.
Damn, meant this to tie up the Going Away. But again, what was to be a side-plot story has grown and multiplied. So this may now go into three chapters with ideas multiplying and leaping.
As always, this is V0.03. Revisions et c are in progress. Gods damn. One glaring error.
A continuing family saga charting the interlinked lives of family and friends on at least two continents, with a cast of characters both living and dead. In this chapter, an old Witch passes on. "Not before bloody time"
The scene is now set for the later events of Price of Flight.
The Patrician's Palace, Ankh-Morpork. Friday afternoon.
Lord Vetinari steepled his fingers. He looked gravely at the invited guests. A small knot of Wizards at one side of the room, a small group of Air Witches at the other.
"This is not, of course, a Court of Inquiry." he said. "we are here, as a Magical Hazards Investigation Committee, to discuss the events of yesterday morning."
He nodded slightly to Captain Olga Romanoff, who did her best to look attentive and impassive. Interacting with the Patrician always did this to her.
She glanced across towards Sam Vimes, who was lounging at almost-attention. Apart from Vetinari and Drumknott, he was the only non-magic-user present. However, he had argued that as this involved the City Watch, he should be here to support his officers, hear the facts of the case, and contribute to a discussion concerning what the Hells had exactly happened, and if this posed any risk to the safety of said officers.
"You have all had a copy of the summary report? Capital. This meeting has been convened because Captain Romanoff, in the course of a visit to her home country yesterday, encountered what is categorised as a Code Eighty-Two event. She therefore considered herself duty-bound to ask for a meeting of this committee, so that the precise degree of risk can be discussed and evaluated."
He nodded to Olga.
"Thank you, Captain. I understand a code Eighty-Two Event is defined as a Pegasus Service pilot, or pilots, encountering a previously un-known magical event presenting an unquantified and unevaluated degree of risk to pilot and Pegasus. Her report stresses that nobody came to harm and no injury or damage was caused, but she would still appreciate an opportunity to discuss the incident with other accredited magic-using-professionals."
Vetinari smiled, seemingly benignly.
"As any risk of injury to a Pegasus would be grievous to the interests of the City, I see my position here as one of chairing the meeting, and facilitating the free and open flow of ideas. So that if this situation recurs, we may understand more about what happened, and can implement any necessary precautions to be taken in future."
He nodded to Olga.
"Please present your report, Captain Romanoff."
From the other side of the room, as one of the group of Wizards, her husband Eddie gave her an uncertain little smile. He'd been there and was a material witness.
Olga took a deep breath, and began Describing.
Thursday morning, nearly nine am by local Zlobenian time, in the strange dimension known as Feegle Space.
The six Pegasi entered Feegle Space together. Olga Romanoff felt a professional satisfaction they'd managed this, and made a note to thank the Navigators. She wondered if Feegle from lots of different clans had somehow formed a sub-clan of their own in the Air Watch, and were now a sort of hive-mind for jobs like this. It was an interesting thought and one she stowed away for consideration later.
She heard a very loud bird nearby croak a call. It sounded like "CAW!" and it sounded like it was coming from immediately behind her. She also registered growing commotion among the witches and other passengers who were being ferried to Krapovits Oblast via Feegle Space. Her first instinct was to go to her communicator and activate it.
"Syren to all pilots…"
Then she realised the comms units were inert here. This was Feegle Space. Other rules applied.
She heard Eddie, on the pillion behind her, whistle and go "Ag, man! Jislaaik!"
Olga, slowly and deliberately, looked round her. At just the moment an actinic flare, behind her and to her right, erupted into Feegle Space. It was as if somebody had ignited a fireball. She heard Nadezhda Popova making an uncharacteristic shriek that sounded horrified. Which was not the usual Nadezhda. Something wrong was happening.
Olga allowed the bright after-images to subside and took in the scene around her. The fiery light had subsided somewhat and appeared to have steadied.
She heard voices calling. They sounded close to and far away at the same time.
"Firebird, how the Hells are you doing that?"
"Doing what?"
Rebecka Smith-Rhodes. She sounded puzzled.
"What the Hells?"
"Лекси, это выглядит очень неудобно!"
"Oh, he looks so pretty!"
"Bekki, can you turn that down a bit?"
"Turn what down?"
Olga patted Raduga's neck. Sergeant Wee Mad Arthur, perched in the mane, was watching in interested absorbtion.
"I don't know what this is, but I hope we can change them back!"
"Mine's perfectly normal. It's everyone else who's changed!"
She looked across to her left. Vasilisa Budonova was looking at her in an intently thoughtful and fascinated way. Nadezhda Popova, on the pillion behind her, was looking over and behind her, intent on something else.
Was Vasilisa wearing that blue coat with the white fur trim when we set out… and a white ushanka? Why is Nadezhda dressed like that all of a sudden – with a beard? And above all, why is Vasilisa's Pegasus suddenly bright brilliant blue with a vivid white tail and mane?
"Aye, weel. They're a wee bit late for Hogswatch." Wee Mad Arthur commented, drily. "Sergeant Popova done up as your folk's Hogfather, ye ken. Right down tae the false beard. Forebye, I hope that's a false beard. Mr Popova might have a few wee concerns."
Olga forced herself to look round. To her immediate right, Yulia Vizhinsky seemed to be perched on the neck of a huge violin that somehow still had a white mane, tail and Pegasus wings. Her flight-Feegle was seated on the headstock, looking utterly unconcerned. Yulia looked as if nothing was out of place in her own world, but she was looking upwards and to her right at the massive bird, flying in its corona of fire. In the midst of a largely orange-golden flame, Rebecka Smith-Rhodes was seated on its back, looking fully in control, with the two child passengers. Olga had a flood of sudden relief that Vassily was behind her, looking excited and delighted at what he saw, with Tatiana Yermaka in front, excitedly pointing to the other Pegasi and chattering to Bekki and Vassily.
This explained the sudden fireball-eruption of light and Nadezhda's horrified scream; her daughter had been in the middle of that. As was my son…
Olga had a sudden intuition about the bird-croak from behind her. It had sounded like a raven. Or a crow… with just a hint of whinny.
She looked behind her, angling to look over Eddie's shoulder.
Yes. A massive black bird. With Serafima "Vorona" Dospanova perched just where you'd expect the pilot to go. Olga reflected that Vorona's long angular face and unfortunately long large nose made her look more like a corvine bird than ever. With relief, Olga registered her daughter Valentina sitting in front of Vorona, looking excited and delighted at what was going on.
And young Lexi, the Fledgling… she and her apprentice Witch passenger were perched on their mount in a way that made Olga's eyes water in sympathy.
It's not even in a scabbard… they're straddling the blade…
Olga forced herself to breathe hard. She wondered why Raduga Desh, alone among six Pegasi, remained his regular shape and colour and why he didn't seem alarmed or spooked about weird things happening. She also wondered how the Hells she was going to explain five shape-shifted Pegasi to Vetinari, and hoped to Hells they could be changed back.
Is this a Code Eighty-One? Or an Eighty-Two? Or, Gods help me, an Eighty-Three or even an Eighty-Four?
She put Watch bureaucracy and the associated report writing out of her mind and tried to make herself think, and look at things, like a Witch.
She also closed the growing hubbub and consternation out of her mind and focused on Alexandra Mumorovka, seeking to look at her in a particular way…
-"Лекси, это неудобно?"
-Я не понимаю? Чего не хватает в комфорте?"
"Lexi, doesn't it, you know, hurt?"
"I don't know what you mean, Firebird. Why are you not burning to death?"
Olga smiled slightly. On one level she was seeing a fourteen-foot long Cossack sabre. Which wasn't scabbarded. Lexi and the young pupil Witch – Olga tried to remember her name – were seemingly sitting astride an extremely sharp blade. With no sign of discomfort, or – ouch! – hurt. Lexi's flight-Feegle was sitting cross-legged on the pommel – Olga absently recognised the horse-head design of the Baikal Host – and was watching events with great interest.
Lexi appeared to be having a shouted conversation with Yulia Vizhinsky in one direction, and a second with Rebecka Smith-Rhodes in another. It was one of many shouted conversations that were happening. Olga sighed. She focused.
The improbable fourteen-foot sabre shimmered, faded, and a Pegasus took its place. Two girls and a Feegle were now mounted exactly where you'd expect to see them, pilot, pillion and Navigator.
Ah.
Except that the Pegasus wasn't white. It was a sort of steely gunmetal-grey colour and shimmered, like metal turned into horseflesh and was oddly, if austerely, beautiful. The wings gleamed silver-grey in a way that somehow seemed right for a flying creature. No feathers were visible. Just panelled metal. Looking made, manufactured. Except that they still moved like flesh-and-feathered wings.
She heard a snatch of music. It sounded like a horse's whinny re-scored for violin.
She looked up to the large bird in the halo of fire. Her son Vassily waved at her from behind Rebecka. Tatiana, in front, was watching with delighted big-eyed interest.
"Mummy's got a beard!" she said, in one of those penetrating five-year-old girl voices everyone for miles around can hear. Bekki, who was trying to shush her, visibly winced.
Olga tried not to laugh, and focused. Yes. There it was. Barely visible in the aura of flame, there was the ghostly outline of a Pegasus. The pilot, two children and a Navigator were there, in the right places.
Olga gathered herself, and called for quiet. She was barely heeded.
Nadezhda Popova, recognising what was needed, stood up in the passenger stirrups behind Vasilisa. Olga felt suddenly glad she was there. A Sergeant's voice has authority and carries, even when she isn't shouting. People listen. And they do as they're told.
"You will listen to Cap… to Olga Anastacia." Nadezhda said, through the improbable full white beard. "She will address you. Thank you."
Olga nodded to Nadezhda.
"Thank you, Nadezhda Veranovna." she acknowledged. "I require each pilot, in turn, to give me a situation report on what she is seeing. I will need to report on this when we return to Ankh-Morpork. Therefore, as accurate as you can." She nodded over to her left. "Vasilisa Danutovna?"
"I see everyone else has changed, although Stravinsky remains normal." she said. "My Pegasus is white. Nothing I can see has changed. However, where others are, I see a large bird wreathed in flame. I see a large black crow, or perhaps a raven. I see a massive shashka sabre. I see a flying violin."
She looked speculatively at Olga.
"You are flying a Pegasus still. But one with a rainbow for a mane and a rainbow for a tail. His skin is still white, but every so often a rainbow begins at his neck and flows back over his body towards the tail. It is pleasing to look at."
Olga looked down at the pure unchanging white of her Pegasus. There was a complete absence of rainbow colour.
"I see." she said. "I think."
She frowned, and looked up to where Alexandra Mumurovka had unpacked an iconograph and was industriously taking pictures. Olga remembered an iconograph, fully loaded with imp, ink and paper, was part of the standard issue kit to a Pegasus Service rider and was carried in the forward right-hand pouch with Essential Kit. (1)
She smiled. Lexi might only be a Cadet, but she was showing good presence of mind.
"Cad… Alexandra? Please keep those images safely. I may need them later. Thank you."
Olga noted Lexi studying one of the pictures as it was extruded from the iconograph, looking up to compare it with the real thing, and looking down at the picture again in a puzzled way.
She moved on to Yulia. Who confirmed her own Pegasus was perfectly normal to her, and does it really look like a flying violin to everyone else? As she passed from pilot to pilot, a consistent picture emerged.
Her husband Eddie, who had been sitting quietly behind her, observing, diffidently said
"Errr. Olga?"
Reasoning that this was as bad as it probably got and nobody was in any sort of imminent danger, she turned to look at him.
"I think I might know. Or et least, have an idea. Es to whet is happening."
She nodded to him.
Eddie looked around, nervously. He gulped. He looked round at a circle of serious female faces who had placed him at the centre of their attention.
Olga reached a hand round to him. It suddenly occurred to her that her husband was in a place where Wizards tried not to be(2), and he needed a little encouragement. She smiled.
"Whatever it is, I think we should hear you out." she said. "Quiet, please."
"Olga. Up until now, how many people have ever been into this place together? How many Pegasi? How many riders?"
She considered this.
"Almost always, singly. Recently, with more new pilots in training, we have sent people through this place in pairs. As instructor and trainee. One in a blue moon, two riders on different journeys might cross paths. But that last is very rare."
Eddie nodded.
"Never more than two? And your pilots have to report, don't they, if anything odd happens?"
"Da. And we will have to report this. Carry on, Eddie?"
Eddie gulped again. He'd been married to Olga for long enough to recognise a hint. The harmonics in his wife's voice said Keep it short, Eddie. He also felt the glares being directed at him in the same way a seismologist recognises an active volcano.
"Well. Justnow, Olga, there are six Pegasi. You are all carrying passengers. Everybody here is a magic-user. Errr. At least three people have never been into this place before. Being a magic-user means you are receptive. Suggestive. To a place with big background magical potential. Err."
Eddie felt the lava-heat again. He winced.
"When I met, err, Zenia…"
"Her name is pronounced Kh-SEN-iya, Eddie."(3) Olga said, patiently.
"K'seniya. She's coming along later? Irena's bringing her? You should talk to her, Olga. Anyway. She said to you, this is a God's place, Topackki? The god of illusion and bad practical jokes?"
Olga forgot to correct his pronunciation. This had simply not occurred to her.
"My guess is, Olga. Six Pegasi. Eleven Witches. Excluding Valentina, for the moment."
"And Tatiana". Olga said, in a low voice. "And you too."
"Err.. at least twelve magic users. Eleven Witches, one Wizard. Errr. My guess is that we've got a critical mass. And in this place, what we've done is to touch off one massive illusion spell."
Eddie paused. At this very moment he felt very uncomfortable indeed, the sole Wizard in a space full of Witches. He'd also heard about a thing women in general darkly described as mansplaining, where a man would take it upon himself to explain a fact or an event or a phenomenon, often at great condescending length, to the women around him.
He'd also heard about a specific sub-category of mansplaining which witches described as wizardsplaining. Irena Politek had defined this for him as when a Wizard assumed Witches were too simple-minded or unschooled in magic to know what was happening, and a nearby Wizard then put himself centre-stage to give them the technical explanation. At great length, using too many words, and in what Irena called wizardspeak. He gathered this was not generally appreciated by Witches.
Hoping that being actually married to a witch gave him a bye, Eddie ploughed on.
"Err. You're all Air Police. You've all got your callsigns. And you all named the Pegasus you're bonded to. Names have got power. All magic users know that. And. I'm sorry my Rodinian isn't brilliant. But I'm learning."
He looked over, and indicated her.
Rebecka. She's Firebird. Zharp-titsa in Rodinian, ja?"
He pointed to her.
"So the magic obliged by making everybody else see a phoenix. Zharp-titsa. Bird in flames. But from her point of view, she is only seeing her own Pegasus. Boetjie, which in our language is Boy-child. But only two of us here speak Vondalaans. Yes, Vassily. Four, with you and your sister. Quieten down now, Daddy's talking. But everyone speaks Rodinian. They see a phoenix."
He paused again. Eddie seized the moment.
"Alexandra. Shashka is Rodinian for a sabre, right? She gets a great big sword. And, Yulia. You're a musician? You play fiddle? You named your Pegasus after your instrument? Skripka. Violin."
Various noises of understanding were reassuring Eddie he was on the right track. Not noises of approval. He was a wizard, discovering that one thing Witches found harder to deal with than a Wizard who mansplained was a Wizard who was had managed to work it out faster than a witch could. This tended to irritate Witches.
"Serafima? They call you Vorona, right?"
He looked behind him and upwards at the improbably large crow. Or raven. He reflected that while the long thin woman with the unbound streaming black hair could look oddly attractive in the right light, that long beaky nose and the pronounced chin meant she'd never be a beauty. He drew attention to the observed fact that the massive black bird she was apparently riding had long white feathers all the way down one side of its neck, and where you'd expect the tail to be all black, it was actually white.
"Vorona. The crow. Or the raven. Rodinian uses the same word for both, right?"(4)
Serafima Dospanova gave him a grudging nod. Eddie, seeing his personal finishing line in sight, resolutely galloped on.
"Vasilisa. You've been Snegorochka to your family ever since you were tiny, yes? And she's the handmaiden to the Hogfather? And her colours are blue and white? Well, then."
Vasilisa delivered another grudging nod.
"Ded Moroz." she said. "Snegorochka is his grand-daughter. He is not Hogfather, in Rodinian."
There was a childish giggle. Eddie was reminded that in this place everybody's voice was as audible as if they were six feet away, despite the – presumed – Pegasi being spread out over several hundred yards of objective space.
"If my Tetushka Vasilisa is the Snow-maiden, then that's why Mummy, who is older, is Ded Moroz. She's the Hogmother!"
People went very impassive, or tried not to snort with laughter, as they considered Nadezhda Popova, in blue robes trimmed with white, with the improbable long white beard. It was very possible that somewhere underneath the robes and hood and behind the white beard, one a Wizard would have approved of, Nadezhda was scowling. Their flight-Feegle had changed too: he was currently manifesting as a pixie in green trousers and a red tunic, with a flopping-over white hat, a happy little pixie a young child would love to see on Hogswatch Night.
"Well, that's everybody." Olga said, quickly. She now knew why others were seeing her on a rainbow-coloured Pegasus. Raduga Desh. Rainbow Dash. No need to spell it out. "Eddie, so this is an illusion spell. I think you are right. A pretty picture, disconcerting till you see past the illusion, but nothing to worry about, and not dangerous. Khoroscho. So what do we do next, in your opinion?"
"I would give the order for Transition, Olga." Eddie said, in a low voice. More loudly, he added:
"My guess is that this will all wear off, when we are back in the real world again. Not consciously cast, by the way. Just… critical mass. Whatever's creating the illusion will stay here."
"Khoroscho." Olga said again. "Mr Wee Mad Arthur? Give the word, will you?"
Ten minutes later, five Pegasi reappeared in the real world over a landscape of green fir forests topped with white. The line of a wide meandering river was visible in the distance.
Olga looked down on the landscape of her own childhood and adolescence, and felt a powerful warm ache of Home. She registered that she was once again in command of a flight of five pure white Pegasi with pure white manes and tails. She frowned. Five? Somebody missing… then she took a closer look at her own mount, Raduga Desh.
She decided to deal with the bigger problem first.
The Patrician's Palace, Ankh-Morpork. Friday afternoon.
Lord Vetinari steepled his fingers,
"Fascinating." he said. "As Professor Stibbons and the Arch-Chancellor have said, a massive discharge of random ambient magic in the dimension we know of as Transition, the place the Air Watch describes as Feegle Space. Doctor de Kokamainje…" he nodded to Eddie, "was an eye-witness who was able to observe the event from a Wizard's point of view. His opinion is that so many magic users in a space of which we know relatively nothing, in a place where the usual rules do not apply, generated a critical mass of magical potential and this was the result."
Vetinari picked up an iconograph.
"And a clue to this being illusion is that the iconographs taken by Air Cadet Mumorovka show nothing more than a group of Pegasi and their riders, presenting completely normally, with no change or alteration at all." (5)
He scrutinised Lexi, one of the selected pilots Olga had brought along to give evidence.
"Is pravda, sir." Lexi said. "Imp in iconograph tell me, basic model, he paints only what is there. If I wish for imp to paint illusion, maskirovna, Air Watch should pay more dollars for advanced model."
Vetinari looked as if he was holding back a smile.
"Very true, Air Cadet. Sir Samuel, maybe they should be issued advanced model iconographs? A point worth considering. Nevertheless, Air Cadet, you had the presence of mind to take the iconographs."
He looked at Olga.
"As always, Captain Romanoff, you attract above-average recruits. Commendable. I understand no real harm was done, you brought – eventually – six units out of Transition Space, and on the return home from the duty you attended yesterday, to be on the safe side, you despatched your units back to Ankh-Morpork two at a time. Nobody reported adverse effects on the flight back."
"By then, we were seven, sir." Olga said. "Lieutenant Politek was flying independently on a separate mission and joined us, with her passenger, at Krapovits Oblast. She flew back as part of a trio, but reported nothing out of the ordinary. As we are learning all the time, I am now making it a Standing Order that no more than three Pegasi fly on the same mission if it involves Transition. Just to err on the side of safety."
Vetinari nodded.
"A wise precaution, Captain. I judge that no blame attaches to you or to the Air Watch, and you were correct to bring this event to me for my information. Does anyone have anything to add?"
Mustrum Ridcully harrumphed.
"Olga, m'dear. I read your report. Absolutely fascinatin'. Do you have any objection to my lodgin' a copy in the University library, as a contribution to the total sum of human magical knowledge?"
"No objection, Arch-Chancellor, but I do remind you this is marked "Restricted". Perhaps to be kept securely, to be accessed by authorised researchers only?" she said.
Vetinari smiled slightly.
"See to it, Arch-Chancellor."
There was a scraping of chairs as attendees got up to leave.
"Just one last matter." Vetinari said, without looking up from the Air Incident Investigation Committee Report (Magical Hazards).
"This marginal possibility, that a God may have been involved?"
Olga sighed. She had been dreading this being brought up. It was characteristic of Vetinari to get people in a relaxed mood, thinking business was complete, and then bring up a hitherto overlooked little point for clarification. She made a little nod to Irena Politek.
"I did not see the main event, sir." Lieutenant Irena Politek said, taking over for the Air Watch. "Both my flights, to Lancre first and then from the Air Station to the Vulga River, were uneventful. The interesting event occured when travelling from the Vulga to the Ronbas, when I entered Feegle Space for the fourth time. My passenger, who witnessed this event, expressed a wish to return to her home in Khazakstan when her part in the day was done. However, she wrote a short report on what we encountered which is in the file for your attention, along with a Morporkian translation."
Vetinari received the documents Drumknott helpfully sorted out for him. He looked down and read
Меня зовут Ксения Другоймировна Галена. Я шаманка для своего народа. В Потустороннем мире в компании Ирены Яннесовны я увидел моего Бога, который мне улыбнулся.(6)
He looked up at Irena. Then read the witness statement back, in perfect Rodinian.
She winced. She knew Vetinari was good at languages. She hadn't realised he'd be this good.
"Drugoymirovna." he said. "An interesting matronymic. I understand it to mean something like "Daughter of the Otherworld", does it not?"
"Yes, sir." Irena replied. "She is a shaman as well as a witch. The role of a shaman and a… priestess… is to mediate with the other worlds. Which is why we brought her to the…funeral... yesterday."
"And on your journey?"
Irena sighed. One of those mornings. Nichevo.
Irena's flight had been to collect Xenia Galena from the Vulga River country in Khazakstan. The outgoing flight had passed uneventfully. All Irena needed to do was to be very aware of the timings for the flights, so that she could link up with six other Pegasi in the sky above Krapovits Oblast and join formation with them.
Olga had been very definite about that. Irena understood the need: seven Pegasi flying formation in the sky above her family home would be a clear message to her father.
You are my father. You are Grand Duke Nikolas. But you are not absolute ruler here. In this matter, Witches decide. Nobody else. Here I am senior witch. I will decide who succeeds Natalia the BabaYaga. While the land and the isba and the domovila technically belong to you, you only have the title deeds. We are witches. We have the real rights. Do not forget this.
It would also signal to the People. Witches are here today in some numbers. We have power. Do not anger us.
Olga wanted her return to her home town to be memorable. As it was Irena's home town too, she was all in favour. She remembered the first occasion she had revisited, after the manner of her leaving Home. The memory of being run out of town again, and not at all being welcomed, still made her burn with a sense of shame and unforgotten humiliation. (7)
Collecting Xenia and her necessary equipment had been straightforward. Transition into Feegle Space, with the aid of Buggy Swires, had been routine.
The little green man – she assumed man – in the green clothes, standing about three feet tall, had not been routine.
He had tipped his little green hat to them and was standing there, in apparent empty space, grinning at them with dazzlingly white teeth. The grin, to Irena, had said I know something you don't. There was a suspicion of high-pitched giggling at the upper edge of hearing.
"Hey, Jimmy." Buggy Swires had said, growling. "I'm warnin' ye, china. Take a step further and I'm aff the back of this beast, and I'm claimin' ye."
"Buggy…" Irena had said. She recognised something more here. Something she couldn't quite get a grasp of. She looked at the little green man, who seemed to be radiating a green glow, surrounding him like an aura.
Irena frowned. The shape of that hat, a flat circular brim, the crown like a truncated flat cylinder… it suggested something from further out widdershins and Rimwards, and that poncho coat, a square blanket with a central hole for the head. Tezuma? Paraquat? That general region?
She heard Xenia, behind her, make a tutting noise.
"Oh, so it's you." Xenia said. "What do you want of me this time?"
"You know him?" Irena asked. She heard Xenia snort.
"Da. He's a God." she said, in the tone of voice that spilled the words "bloody pest."
The God grinned.
Irena concentrated. She got the shape of a conversation, the clouds of words, suggesting a conversation between Xenia and her God. Only it wasn't said in words.
-You didn't need to take the drugs this time, Daughter of the Otherworld.
-No need. Irena Yanessovna and her comrades have the secret.
-Oh, yes. Her comrades. Lots of them passed this way a little while ago. So many I was drawn to them. And so much magic. Such receptiveness. I hardly had to do a thing.
Irena's attention was drawn and her guard was up instantly.
"What did you do?" she demanded, in words. The green man turned to her.
-Honestly? Very nearly nothing. I just suggested to their reality what shapes things could become. They brought so much magic with them that they did the rest. Usually they only come in ones. Thirteen lit up such a beacon that I had to go and see the flames.
The green man shrugged. there was the suspicion of a giggle again.
-This is my realm. I gave them a Vision Quest. Something for them to think about and discuss later. I assure you they are all safe now. Even the red-haired girl, who, Irena Yannesovna, you will need to chase, as her Navigator is not the best in the world.
He nodded to Xenia.
-Daughter of the Otherworld, I greet you. You have joined the sisterhood of the flying white horse?
-Nyet. But they are, I think, my sisters.
-Go in peace, shamanka. Tell the red-haired girl to beware of scissors.
The God Topacxi grinned again, tipped his green hat, bowed, and vanished.
Irena looked at Xenia. She shrugged.
"I meet him occasionally." She said. " Trickster God. Don't trust him. Likes playing practical jokes. But it's rare to actually encounter him."
Irena nodded.
"Buggy? Get us out of here."
"The God of smoke and illusion." Vetinari said. "Possibly an alternate manifestation of Hoki the Jokester. But you say he hardly bothers to manifest, and because this Plane is vast and Pegasi are hardly in there for very long, such encounters are random and rare?"
"That is so, sir." Irena confirmed. "Now we know more about him – thanks to Xenia Galena – we can alert pilots to the potential risk. But my reading is that he likes playing instructive, non-lethal, practical jokes. Danger is minimal."
Vetinari smiled slightly.
"Do so, Lieutenant." he directed. "This will be all for now. Thank you."
To be continued….
timed out but feeling I need to put something up. Got to go into another chapter with this. Damn.
(1) Vetinari had suggested this. He had pointed out that Pegasus Service riders went all over the Discworld in the service of the City, and if anything was spotted from the air that might usefully be captured in a picture, his pilots should do so. After all, Captain Romanoff, a picture speaks a thousand words, do you not agree?
(2) Ponder Stibbons was not a sadistic or malevolent man. He was, however, responsible for the education of student Wizards. From hard personal experience, he argued that any Wizard who has never been in a position where he has had a group of Witches standing around him with folded arms, directing basilisk gazes in his direction while he is attempting to explain a concept to them, is not a fully-trained Wizard. It was, in Ponder's opinion, a situation every young Wizard should be in and seek to learn from. Eddie de Kokamainje was now in a position where he had to present a case to a total of thirteen Witches of various ages. Who were all indeed glaring at him.
(3) Again, my horrible (but improving) Russian. The name "Xenia" in the West can be "Zenia" in pronunciation. Took a while before I got that this is a Cyrillic "X" – this is an aspirant "Kh-" sound in Russian. Therefore Russian "Xenia"- "Kh-SEN – iya." Whoops.
(4) hoping this is correct – Russian does appear to use the word "vorona" for both "crow" and "raven". Please correct me if wrong.
(5) On a background showing very odd tricks of light and perception. H.P. Lovecraft's artist Mr Pickman would have handed in his paintbrushes.
(6) My extremely basic Russian, guided by translation engines. If it could be better, please correct me! Spassibo. The sense should read: My name is Xenia Drugoymirovna Galena. I am a shamanka and a witch for my people. In the Otherworld, in the company of Irena Yannesovna, I saw my God, who smiled at me.
(7) Go to my tale "Clowning is A Serious Business". And yes. I know. Stalled a couple of chapters away from completion.
The Notes Dump:- not a lot justnow but you never know
Scribbles about story continuation, with spoilers removed. Left her as a pointer for any psychiatrist trying to work out how my mind operates.
In Feegle Space.
Here, a Critical Mass of Witches, plus one wizard, does strange things. Facilitated by the medium of Feegle Space. Make this bit funky and psychedelic. Like a shamantic trip without drugs.
Krapovits Oblast
In the airspace over KO, five Pegasi reappear in formation. One emerges a mile away and has to fly hard to catch up. Words will be spoken later to Wee Archie. (two concerned mothers who have temporarily lost a son and a daughter due to bad navigation, not pilot error) Irena and passenger arrive to make it seven. Irena sees an after-effect from Feegle Space which has not completely dissipated. (MLP homage). It is discovered the two very youngest Witches are responsible, and their mothers have a little word.
Do Not Overfly the Domovila. Important.
The idea of a circuit overflying the local villages and the Estate House, Olga demonstrating to her parents that their wayward daughter has Arrived Home. "Look at me, daddy, I'm flying!"
The Going Away –
Borrow lots of dialogue and expand on episodes from TPOF.
Natalya has Last Words with each Witch present as a sort of going-away present.
{{Rest of these notes redacted as they'd be some very big spoilers - but the old Witch has a few Last words for everybody}}
The Funeral;
Xenia Galena, as Shamanka, glares the village priest to one side and opens the gateway to the Domovila, where the old witch is buried alongside those who have gone before. Vasilisa follows on, discreetly, and seeds the grave with the poppyseed-and-earth mix.
Pallbearers will be the village headman, the Cossack hetman, and Grand Duke Nikolas alongside three Witches (Olga, Irena, plus possibly Nadezhda) as this is Symbolic. The other Witches fall in behind.
Later, Bekki gets to discuss the Hartebeeste Problem. Nadezhda and Perspicacia Tick, who arrived by means of her own, will advise on what looks like a Class One Poltergeist. Or else an escapee from Somewhere Else that has latched onto a receptive mind. What they are and where they come from. And how to deal with it. Also aftercare for the Receptive Mind.