Strandpiel 29
Recce:
In which a mission is flown, a new Air Witch is introduced and diplomatic discussions completely fail to happen in Ankh-Morpork.
For all the people who politely asked for new stories in 2022. Especially folk I've been speaking to on the A-M Times page on FB!
V0.06: the inevitable typos and tweaking. Yulia is easy-going but might not appreciate having her gender changed to "he". And the proof-reader's work is never done. Sorting out The Mystery of the Missing Footnote. Also thanks to reviewer "Guest" for pointing out a clutch of hold-outs. Corrected.
Ankh-Morpork, Tuesday evening. Spa Lane.
Tuesday evenings were a good time for the Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons parents to do adult things and have adult conversations. One daughter was in Howondaland; the middle daughter was safely at school, probably doing the necessary work of Prep for the next school day. At least, her mother fervently hoped so. The third was curled up on the sofa reading, diligently taking notes from the book she was reading, with a stack of books piled up next to her. Johanna was relaxed about this. Ponder had confirmed that whatever Ruth was doing, it wasn't going to be dangerous, lethal or embarrassing to her parents. She didn't feel she needed to ask further.
Johanna turned her attention to the guests who had dropped by for a discreet and informal chat. Like other City agencies in a position to do so, the Guild of Assassins facilitated this sort of thing for people who preferred sensitive discussions to be deniable, discreet, kept at arms' length from official channels, and which above all were unrecorded and un-minuted.
With the representatives of two different Governments here, from nations not inclined towards official discussions, the Assassins were providing a neutral location for informal conversation. Johanna was happy to oblige this, if it made for grown-up chats and the avoidance of conflict. The Guild had a policy that war should be averted between these two nations. It had been agreed that as this was wholly in keeping with Ankh-Morpork's foreign policy objectives, Lord Downey could speak for the City. He had indeed previously been Briefed by Somebody who felt his own presence was not, at the moment, required. As several people on both sides were Assassins' School graduates, if the story got out it could be dismissed as Guild members and friends having an informal evening drink at the home of a Guild teacher.
"Captain Romanoff and Lieutenant Politek are likely to be joining us later." Johanna said. "Their Pegasus Service duties will have taken them to both capitals and they will have spoken to prominent people in both places."
"Including my superiors." Martin Vinhuis said, thoughtfully.
His peer from the Embassy of the Zulu Empire indicated assent.
"Mine also." Canon Clement N'Effabl said. "No doubt the Queen-Regent Elect will send any further advice or instruction to me as she sees fit, knowing this meeting is happening."
"Ja. Pieter van der Graaf also." Martin agreed. He sipped the remarkably very good klipdrift, which Johanna had said was improved with a mixer drink derived from the leaves and roots of a plant found in Tezuma and Paraquat. She'd discovered it when pregnant, when Lady Sybil had sent instructions in how to make the non-alcoholic drinks that Sam found to be a consolation.(1)
"Klippies and… kola." Martin remarked. The mixture had a certain something to it. "From your sister's distillery, Johanna? I don't suppose you could ask her to quote me a deal on a couple of cases?"
He nodded at Clement.
"Highly informally and in a deniable way, I could then send you a couple of bottles."
"Ah, a hostage exchange." Clement said, amicably. "An accepted duty of Embassies. Have you ever tried warangi, Mr Ambassador? This is distilled from bananas in the more Hubwards regions of the Empire. I find it quite palatable." (2)
Martin Vinhuis chuckled, appreciatively.
"A gift of strong spirits from an Assassin. I might be worried about that, except for the fact we are both enjoying an Assassin's hospitality right now."
He nodded to Johanna. She grinned.
"There is no contract on you, Martin. I would know. So would Clement."
He grinned back.
"Zulu banana brandy in the Embassy liquor cabinet. There'd be advantages to having it as a conversation starter. So, two bottles of warangi in exchange for two of Lensen klipdrift, Clement?"
"Consider it done, Martin. I should add a third as a gift to Mr and Mrs Lensen. It may be officially illegal, but I was a teacher at the Guild School where Horst and Mariella were my pupils. And a gift from a teacher to former pupils should be understood."
"I'll ask Mariella." Johanna said. "Rebecka flies from there once a week."
She stood back, reflecting on how good drink and a good social atmosphere had moved both Ambassadors to affable first-name terms after the first glass. It was all good.
"Business?" Lord Downey prompted them. "And this is superb brandy, Johanna. Your sister is to be congratulated."
"I'll ask her to price a case for you too, sir?" Johanna asked.
"I should be obliged. Thank you." Downey said. He turned his attention to the other people present.
"Major de Menières, I understand work is well advanced on the new ships and very soon they will be going on their shakedown cruise?"
"Oui, milord." Marianne replied. "The ships approach completion, so marvellously swiftly! I have been to the shipyard to observe, and where necessary, to guide. Their first voyage may be a matter of weeks away."
Downey looked thoughtful. The two Ambassadors watched, intently. This matter concerned both, greatly.
The Comptesse de Lapoignard smiled reassuringly at Marianne, her house-guest. Next to her, Sissi N'Kime watched the Ambassadors intently, reading them for clues. Martin Vinhuis especially. This, she knew, was going to be the tricky one. She needed him onside. Ruth N'Kweze needed him onside.
"Oh, yes. The sea voyage." Downey said, smoothly. "First, a two or three day mission to Chirm, to disembark a cavalry regiment that will take ship in Ankh-Morpork for its deployment as part of a security detail. This allows the crews, and the engineer who devised the ships, to field-test the design and to remedy any small problems that may arise. In Chirm, you take on a new cargo, also of cavalry, who I understand are at this moment arriving there in greater numbers."
He paused here. Marianne realised she was to take over here. She noted the Rimwards Howondalandian Ambassador was looking uncomfortable and frowning slightly.
"That is so, sir." she said. "Four hundred officers and men with their horses and such supporting equipment as is immediately required. The rest and rear echelon units are travelling by convoy overland."
She paused.
"The ships will then take stores sufficient for a four-week longer sea voyage. They will also take aboard possibly four hundred and fifty Cossack cavalry, who are contracted by an…overseas employer. Other normally configured cargo vessels will join them en route."
Martin Vinhuis sighed.
"Yes. The overseas employer." he said. "I have to say my nation is concerned about this. I have to say my government has reservations."
"Then we talk about these things here." Sissi said. "Mr Vinhuis, will you explain what those reservations are? I am empowered to speak with the voice of the Queen-Regent here, by the way. I know her will and her thoughts concerning this."
Claude the butler entered and cleared his throat.
"My lady, Captain Romanoff, Sergeant Popova and Officer Vizhinsky of the Pegasus Service are here, and have asked to see you."
Yulia Raisanovna Vizhinsky's journey to the Air Watch had the usual sort of trajectory. A bright girl of above-average intelligence, she had been musically inclined ever since earliest childhood and had picked up her first violin at the age of six. Parents eager to foster musical creativity in their daughter had resignedly put up with the early unpromising tortured-cat noises, determining that she'd either grow out of it and put the damn thing down, or else get better. To their relief and parental pride, she got better.
Had Raisa and Ivan been more aware, they might have seen other things emerging in their daughter, as her growing musical talent led her to recognition by the prestigious Wotua Doinov Conservatory in their native Nobinovgorod, with the offer of a scholarship to a music-based education. Here, a general education was fitted in around an intense musical training, with the young Yulia being taught the international languages of music, Brindisian and Quirmian(3), alongside the world language of Morporkian(4), so as to school her for an orchestral career later in life.
From the age of around twelve onwards, she began to be plagued by feelings, thoughts, urges and strong emotions she couldn't easily objectify and deal with. Yulia, a pleasant and outgoing girl who was liked by her peers, responded by throwing herself into her music with teeth-gritting determination. Making herself into the best classical violinist she possibly could be seemed to dispel it, somehow.
When it became noticed that things happened around her, such as the pages of her music scores turning by themselves as she played, thus obviating the need for her to pause and turn them manually, people around her started to worry a little.
"Look on the bright side, it means we won't need to go to the expense of employing a Turner or an inside player for her. That's an expense spared for whoever hires her." the Director said. "And besides, she's a Talent. Talent means little peculiarities and eccentricities can be excused. It always has." (5)
Yulia's eccentricities were seen as at the far but acceptable end of normal for a place populated by Talent, and in any case, she was cheerful, outgoing, not inclined to anger or violent tantrums(5a), and liked by her peers. Life continued, until one day two Patrons of the Conservatory dropped by to see where their money was going and were given the Grand Tour.
Grand Duke Nikolas Romanoff and his wife were given the full red-carpet treatment and attended a lunchtime recital where the star violinist played, the student having been given the briefing that the two VIP guests happened to endow the Conservatory with a lot of roubles every year, and a big donation hinges on the quality of your playing. So, no pressure, Miss Vizhinsky, and, err, that thing with the pages turning on their own? We'd be obliged if, errr, you know….
Yulia turned in a flawless performance, with the designated Turner(6) turning most of the pages of her score for her. But something must have registered on Countess Ekatarinya Romanoff as she congratulated the soloist afterwards. In a low quiet voice, Her Grace said
"I've got a feeling you're the sort of young lady my daughter might like to meet. Just a feeling, you understand."
A few weeks later, a flying white horse descended outside the Conservatory. This drew gasps of wonder from the students.
The pilot was seen to receive respectful bows from the Director and his staff, and the students went on with the Work, wondering what all this meant.
Yulia Vizhinky, who had an inkling, was called to the Director's Office where she met, for the first time, Captain Olga Romanoff.
"Hear you've been having intense dreams." Olga said, almost casually. "Strong compulsions. The pages of your music scores turn by themselves. Want to know what it's all about?"
Yulia understood. Being a Witch explained it all. She wondered why nobody had noticed before. Olga smiled.
"Well. Genius musicians. You attend a school full of interesting personality quirks. It's not as if you stood out all that far." she explained. "My guess is that we've been lucky this far and the magic burnt itself off in the music. I know a couple of people like that in Ankh-Morpork. You've heard of Agnes Nitt, the singer?"
Yulia digested this. She'd heard of the opera soloist Agnes Nitt. Everybody had heard about the opera singer Agnes Nitt.
"I know her. You'll meet her." Olga said, casually. "She's one of us, too. You'll probably play for her, devyushka."
Olga added, mysteriously,
"Do you know the Hedgehog Aria? No? Take it from me. You'll learn."
Yulia found herself, with some regrets, leaving the Conservatory. She suspected a lot of arm-twisting had been going on in the background to get the Director to release one of his most promising students so early. A genuine talent, Lady Romanoff, one who is almost assured of a career in a leading Orchestra, such a source of prestige for this Conservatory…
Somehow, her final exams had been brought forward by two years. Yulia sailed through them with starred A's.
Her new home, at least for six months or so, Olga Anastacia said, was Lancre.
"Where's Lancre?" Yulia asked, puzzled.
Olga Romanoff, her new sponsor in Witchcraft, shook her head.
"Everything packed?" she asked, indicating the laden panniers on the marvellous flying horse. Additional instrument cases were securely fastened to the outside. Olga indicated the pillion seat.
"Khorosho. Hop on."
Yulia swallowed.
"I've never been on a horse before."
"What, never?"
"Never."
Olga shook her head. For a moment, she appeared to be in communion with her mount, who turned his muzzle to her, then looked over at Yulia. She had the fleeting impression that there was more intelligence in there than a horse of any sort was meant to have.
"Just hold on tight. Won't matter so much when we're in the air. And Raduga knows. He won't let you drop."
Yulia paused for a moment, wondering exactly how she was meant to get aboard. It seemed like a long way up and there wasn't anything helpful there, like a stepladder. It was as if the winged horse suddenly sensed he was dealing with a total novice, and, possibly uniquely in the nature of horses dealing with newbies,(7) appeared disposed to assist.
The big stallion – Yulia at least recognised this, as some things are obvious – elected to kneel down.(8) Its rump was still higher then its forward parts, but it brought the rear stirrup nearer to the ground.
"Right foot in the stirrup." Olga said, kindly. "No, the rearward stirrup. Nearest the tail. Put your weight on it, it will hold, and swing yourself up and over. Get settled in the rear saddle. Steady yourself to the handrail on the cantle."
Olga paused.
"That's the raised part at the back of the pilot's saddle." she said, helpfully. "Handrail there for passengers."
Yulia scrambled aboard, with inelegance. She tried not to yelp or wobble too much as the horse rose beneath her. She shied back as Olga's left leg, her left calf folded back against her thigh so as to safely miss the passenger, swung over in front of her. Yulia reflected that Olga probably had lots of practice in how to mount when there was a passenger in the rear.
"Ready? If you're wobbling too much, grab hold of me." Olga said.
As the crowd of Conservatory staff and students waved goodbye and called farewell, Yulia Vizhinsky concentrated on staying in the saddle, discovering that the short forward canter wasn't too rocky, and as the marvellous wings unfolded and bit into the air, it actually became quite smooth.
Then she yelped again, as the tiny and villainous-looking little man emerged from where he'd been somehow nesting in the mane.
"Good take-off, Mistress." he said, in heavily accented Morporkian. "Did ye remember to give the broon paper baggie to yon lassie in the back seat?"
Underneath her, Yulia Vizhinsky's old life receded into the past. She wondered again about her future. And about Lancre. Wherever that was.
On that same Tuesday, but earlier: over the Turnwise Caarp. In Rimwards Howondaland, it is approximately breakfast time. (nearly lunchtime in Ankh-Morpork)
The two Pegasi popped into mundane existence after a short trip into Feegle Space. Olga, who had been here before many times, looked down on the red-brown earth punctuated by patches of green. Here and there below, there were more obviously cultivated places with greener, regular, fields. The Orange River flowed down towards the Turnwise sea, the water showing occasional ripples and wakes from barely visible boats. Olga wondered if the Navy had worked it out yet, as to how visible their ships were from several thousand feet up. Sailors had marvelled as to how the Air Watch unerringly found them, when it came to delivering orders and mail from Home and collecting returning post to deliver. She wondered if she ought to use her one Agatean pilot more on these trips. Then wondered why she was automatically associating Akuma-san with aggressive action directed at warships. As if the two somehow went together. (9)
Olga heard Skripka's gasp of wonder at the verdant green of the hillsides, that seemed to stretch as far as the hills did and even sprawled a way onto the flat plain. She grinned, and spoke into her communicator.
"Syren to Skripka. You're looking at lots of grapevines, devyushka. They're the reason for this place. Don't get sidetracked and remember the briefing. Syren out."
Olga considered. It would have been better to bring three Pegasi on this flight. But for operational reasons she had not wanted to do anything out of the ordinary or attract too much attention. It was known the Lensen plaas had an attraction for the flying horses. One landed there fairly regularly. Within the last four months one was now living there pretty much permanently. Two Pegasi were therefore not an uncommon sight in the sky here. Local people still thrilled at the sight, but were getting to accept it as normal and everyday, especially since Bekki still had to take Boetjie up for regular exercise. She knew the local secret police were not overjoyed at people in Ankh-Morporkian service flying into their country's airspace with impunity, but the government in Pratoria had over-ruled their objections. Even so, three Pegasi in the sky here would be unusual and unprecedented and would attract attention. Not what she needed just now.
Olga sighed at the operational need to fit three people onto Raduga, but it had been necessary. Her stallion was big and strong enough to carry three, but only for short flights. And it made things aboard a little cramped. She assessed, and remembered the sketch map Mariella and Rebecka had provided for her. Orientating herself on the line of the Orange River, which from up here did indeed reflect the red-brown of the earth, she decided on a direction.
"Syren to Skripka. Follow me on bearing one hundred. We are going to give the impression we have temporarily lost our bearings, and are flying in a wide circle to reorientate ourselves. On the way we will overfly the place called Hearty-beast-er. To all people present: Remember the briefing, and keep yourselves open to the impressions you receive. Use no active magic of any kind. Important. Thank you for your assistance. After this we fly on to Ves Sand-Rift, where Firebird resides. Acknowledge, Skripka. Syren out."
Leading her flight down to a thousand feet, from which she judged they would be able to get a sensation of anything magically out of place below them without being affected by it, she reflected, and reached for her communicator again.
Bekki Smith-Rhodes sat down for proper breakfast, reflecting that in a working day that had started before six, this felt almost like lunch. In those three hours she had performed the necessary morning therapy and pain relief for Mevrou Hendricka, dealt with several minor injuries to farm workers, and then with the inevitable trickle of people travelling out of Bitterfontein town and neighbouring farmsteads to seek attention. This part of her workload seemed to be increasing.
She quietly got on with it, eventually detailing her orderly Dertien to keep an eye on things while she had breakfast, and to send word if any emergencies showed up that couldn't wait.
Breakfast at Wes Sandrift was the usual relaxed working meal, with invited people joining the table to discuss the working day. Bekki was intrigued that one of the diners this morning was the local journalist Roberta Skribelaar, who had ridden over to say hello. She had brought copies of the latest edition with her, which had gone to print overnight for distribution later in the day.
"I dropped a load off at Viani's Stores for sale." she explained. "Makes sense. Then I reckoned you're not that far away. Thought I'd deliver personally."
Aunt Mariella and Mevrou Hendricka, who had been looking over the Bitterfontein Klarion and were showing amusement, looked up and grinned at her. Uncle Horst, Baas van Linden and Mr Graham the master distiller also had copies. They also seemed amused.
"You're in it." Mariella said, laconically. She composed herself to a completely straight face.
"Have breakfast." Hendricka said. "You too, Roberta."
"Well, we know now not to get her angry." Mr Graham said soberly. He too had a completely straight face.
"Ag, man." Baas van Linden said. "Markus Swaart. Eish."
Bekki suddenly had an intuition. Roberta had taken lots of iconographs…
"I've been getting lots more people coming out of Bitterfontein to consult me." she said, as realisation dawned.
Mariella shrugged.
"Bush clacks." she remarked, as if this explained everything. "Word gets around. And Klipdrift Henderson's a bit unreliable as a doctor. Now people know there's an alternative."
Mr Graham looked at Mevrou Hendricka as if seeking her permission to speak. She nodded back.
"Doctor Henderson was a close friend of the deceased Mr Lensen." he said, "They, err, socialised together."
Uncle Horst winced. That spoke volumes. Bekki recalled how Horst's father had died, and understood. It went with the nickname Klipdrift. No need to spell it out.
Hendricka looked grave and faraway for a moment.
"A good man, when he's sober. Used to be a better doctor, too. But times change."
"We're looking to persuade him to retire." Mariella said. "But that kind of hinges on getting a replacement in the job. Can't have no doctor at all in a place this size… don't panic, Bekki. We're not proposing you. You can only go so far. I've got a candidate in mind. Fellow Horst and I knew in the Army, he's demobilising soon. Needs a civilian job. Married to a nurse, too. Good for everybody."
Hendricka looked grave. Bekki looked across. Yes. She got the distinct impression that Roberta was in on the plan too, to persuade the old doctor with a drinking problem to call it a day and retire.
"While we're making a plan. Organising things." she said. "Somebody like you might need to fill in. Go a bit further. Pick up the slack in the rope. And it's out now that there's a healthcare practitioner in town and she's good at it."
"It got you in the paper." Roberta said. "You haven't seen a copy yet?"
Bekki was about to see exactly how the local paper had covered her when Jona the maid ran in, sounding frightened.
"Please, baas-lady. Muti. There is a ghost or a spirit speaking in Miss Rebecka's room. But no person is there. The ghost says she is called Siren, and is demanding to speak to a Fiery Bird."
Jona looked, with fright and fear, at Bekki.
"I believe I know what this is." she said, remembering her Air Watch communicator was in her bedroom. "Jona, I'll explain later there is nothing to worry about. May I be excused, mevrou?"
Bekki ran to collect her communicator, answering the call on the run. She acknowledged and identified herself.
~~In future, devyushka, keep it with you at all times? Olga Romanoff said. I did say I'd be visiting early this week. Got things to discuss with you and Mariella and Hendricka. Landing in ten minutes. In fact, is Hendricka there? Syren out.
"Read you, Syren." Bekki responded. "Going to find Mevrou Hendricka now. Stand by."
She ran back to the breakfast room with the communicator.
"Errr… it's for you." she said, holding the box to Hendricka. "If I hold the Receive button down, Olga Romanoff's asking to speak to you? She'll be here in ten minutes." Bekki switched to Transmit. "Go ahead, Syren."
Hendricka raised an eyebrow. Jona made a muted shriek as Bekki switched back to Receive, and Olga's voice sounded clearly.
~~By your leave, Hendricka. I'll be landing shortly with two Pegasi and seven people. Bit cramped, but we're managing. Things to discuss, concerning the Hearty-beast-er situation. Also, by your leave, a solution to another problem Bekki asked for help on.
"You're always welcome, Olga." Hendricka assured her, speaking in an over-loud voice.(10) "But seven people, on two horses?"
~~Two of them are Navigators, Hendricka. They don't take up too much room. And they know not to go raiding the distillery. There are four Hags here to enforce that.
"Five." Bekki said.
~~And one Healthcare Practitioner. Who the Feegle also respect.
"So, seven more for breakfast, then." Hendicka said, warmly. She nodded at the maids, who went to work. Down at their end of the table, Wee Archie and Grindguts grinned at each other, then soberly realised. Not just any Hag. The Hag O'The High Airs herself. In person.
"Better smarten up." Grindguts said.
"See there is sufficient tea." Hendricka said to Jona. "It will settle your nerves to know who the Syren is, I think. And lots of sugar."
She paused. Then smled, and addressed her maid in a kindly voice.
"Jona, tea with lots of sugar appeases those who bring muti and makes them kindly and well-disposed. Sugar is good muti."
As one, they interrupted breakfast to go out and await their visitors. Soon, the Pegasi were seen in the sky.
"What a story!" Roberta Skribelaar exclaimed.
"Uggh."
Olga's pillion passenger, or one of them, sounded utterly repulsed. That appeared to be the general consensus of the flight as it passed over Haartebeeste. Especially over the isolated shadowed farm plaas some miles out from the town.
Olga looked over to her left. Nadezhda Popova, on the pillion behind Yulia Vizhinsky, was intently looking down over the place that was causing concern. The shabby farm huis looming in between two hilly outcrops, with the coppice of tall trees just behind, its vines stretching out on the flat and up onto the foothills of the slopes for a long way in all directions.
Something wasn't right there. She could feel it, like a grey fog, stretching outwards and some way up, reaching into the air. Olga felt a tug of nausea and wished they were going higher. Even then she thought it would still reach them.
"Miasmatic." her husband Eddie said. He was perched awkwardly in between Olga and the passenger who had the true pillion seat. Olga had needed to push the pilot's saddle forward and the pillion back to make space. But Raduga was a big stallion with a lot of rump. This was just about doable, provided you weren't in the air for too long. And she'd only needed to pick Eddie up from Witwatersrand, where they'd had a necessary talk to Direktor van Rijnswaand, the senior Wizard in Rimwards Howondaland. Everybody else had flown from Ankh Morpork, after Yulia had picked up her passenger in Lancre. The navigators had been instructed to plan Transition so as to keep them in real space for the shortest possible time. She was pleased with the way Senior Sergeant Wee Mad Arthur had managed the jump from Pratoria to the Caarp.
She forgave him the Wizard-Speak. "Miasmatic" was in the circumstances, a good word. There was indeed a psychic miasma rising up here. Tangled, dark, murky.
"That is not a happy place." Yulia had remarked, as the fog of negative emotions receded behind them. "Scary."
"Da. I can feel it. The balance is wrong. There is something very wrong there." Nadezhda agreed. "A young girl is fearful. I can feel that strongly."
"We won't linger." Olga decided. "The next stop is Ves San-Drift."
She then made a comms call to Bekki, feeling irritated that there was no reply, as if she'd put her comms unit in a drawer and forgotten about it.
A year or two previously
Yulia Vizhinsky felt relieved about Lancre. Yes, she did accept that she had been an undetected Witch and that it had taken till she was over sixteen for anybody to notice. This was down to her having been resident in a specialised sort of boarding-school-cum-university set aside for people with Musical Talent. There were so many personality quirks here that mere Witchcraft had been well within the accepted spectrum of Normality.
She was sorry that her formal musical education had ended, for now, but Olga Anastacia had said that once she learnt how to be a witch and to use the magic safely, it was something she could return to.
Yulia accepted that you just could not have an undetected Witch out there who had access to magic and no training in using it. You just couldn't. It was a duty to identify such people and give them the supervised magical education that they needed. Or else, things happened, like great big smouldering holes in the landscape.
Gloomily, Yulia resigned herself to fate.
She soon discovered it wasn't going to be as bad as all that. Olga Anastacia delivered her to a smart and neat isba, well, a cottage here, in Lancre town. She then discovered her supervising witch was a small rounded babiuschka called Nanny Ogg.
"You're musical." Olga said. "So is Nanny. We do try to match people."
"Ow-do, Julia love." Nanny said. "Let's get you settled in. Got somewhere to park your broomstick?"
Yulia looked at Olga.
Olga sighed.
"Actually, Nanny…" she said. "My people don't, as a rule, use broomsticks. Or fly."
"What, we got a Witch who can't fly? Best we do something about that."
Part of Yulia's week was then spent up at Hobley's Stud Farm, where she discovered the Air Watch had a base. The mildly military nature of this took her by surprise, but on Olga's instructions, she was taught to fly a broomstick the Air Watch way. A succession of pilots took her up on two-seaters with, to her relief, Rodinians predominating. But the Principal Tutor who had the last say on when she went solo, was not Rodinian and frankly frightening.
"She is above-average competent." the scary Sergeant von Strafenburg said. "A natural pilot."
There was also the kinder and older Sergeant Popova, who smiled maternally and said "You are not Air Watch, devyushka, but to me you are a Fledgling, while you are with us. Come to your Mother Hen, if you need to talk to a friend."
Flying lessons also placed her near to the breeding stud that generated the winged horses. They enthralled and fascinated her and she sought to be near them.
The rest of the week, she Went Round The Houses with Nanny Ogg, learning the ins and outs of everyday witching.
"I knows you'll not be a Steading witch, Julia, love." Nanny said, affably. "A lot of girls don't have the mind or the temperament for it. My thinkin' is that you'll go to a band or an orchestra and burn the witchin' off in your music. But you still needs to get a taster of a steadin'. So you knows. And if you goes to a big orchestra, you'll have the knowin' of a few witch skills you can apply as and when people needs 'em. Allus useful."
In the evenings, Yulia brought out her instruments and learnt to provide violin accompaniment to her soloist, in pieces like The Hedgehog Aria. As well as the popular Il stave del Mage e senza nobule allo termnato libretto.
After a while a girl in particolour motley and a belled cap knocked on the door, introduced herself as Alison, the Castle Jester, and said she'd heard the music, "and, err, could I join in?"
Yulia discovered she wasn't neglecting her music at all. Especially when she was asked to be Court Violinist, By Royal Appointment to King Verence and Queen Magrat.
Lancre, and Witchcraft, was working out for her.
She had been there for nearly eight months, learning Witchraft, playing music, accepting that to Nanny Ogg she'd always be Julia with a soft "J", now flying solo for pleasure, and visiting the Air Station at Hobley's regularly, when the pregnant Pegasus mare went into foal.
And today, Yulia was one of the visiting party meeting Bekki in her Steading. This was the first time she had been to Howondaland. It surprised her that in terms of people and the style of building and the layout of a place that was part-farm and part-factory, she might as well still be in the Central Continent.
Then she started seeing lots of people with darker skins, more than you usually saw in Ankh-Morpork and very definitely more than you'd see in Nobinovgorod or Pskov, and remembered this was a new continent.
And the loud three-part, mocking, discordant, call of some sort of bird, one she'd never heard before, that sounded as she and the three others made the obligatory witch-bow to Bekki, the Witch whose Steading this was.
"Hadeda bird." Bekki explained. "As common as pigeons here and also a bit of a pest."
Yulia caught a glimpse of something large and vaguely comical with a heavily drooping beak. It hadeda'd again, almost on cue.
Courtesy over, hugs and kisses followed.
"Hi, Eddie." Bekki said, to the disregarded fifth. "What brings you too?"
He grinned.
"University business." he said. "Witwatersrand University, that is."
"You have not brought the children, Olga?" Hendricka asked, she sounded disappointed.
"Nyet, Hendricka. School day. They're back in Jo-burg."
Olga shared a grin with Mariella.(11)
"We do, however, have another mother of small children here. Well. Smallish."
"Lots of new faces, Olga." Hendricka observed. "Edward, I know."
Olga made the introductions, stressing Nadezhda's multiple motherhood.
"Yulia, one of my junior pilots. I have brought her here for the experience, but mainly because I needed somebody to collect from Lancre and bring a guest over."
Olga made the final introduction.
"Mistress Petulia Gristle, from Lancre."
Breakfast became a bigger and a more cheerful affair. Even more so after the newspapers circulated. At last Bekki got to see what the fuss was about. And the amusement. She winced.
"Mrs Skribelaar." Olga said, with a completely straight face, "I know Ms Cripslock at the Ankh-Morpork Times. She's always on the lookout for interesting copy from around the world that she can syndicate to the paper. I would like to take her some copies? Local interest, after all. Bekki was brought up in Nap Hill."
As Roberta squealed, Mariella helpfully added that Bekki's mother might like a complimentary copy too. Olga agreed this was a good point.
Nadezhda Popova looked up from the illustrated sports pages. She smiled.
"Good arrest, Firebird." She said. "This man, built like large bear, three times your size. In this picture you have brought him down. You are kneeling on his back. You are woman in charge making him take injection he does not want to receive."
"Also, well cropped for publication." Olga remarked. "I am wondering how many large men were holding down his arms and his legs while Bekki was injecting him."
"At least six." Bekki said, embarrassed. Olga kindly patted her arm.
"I know that. You know that. But they are not showing in the iconograph, are they?" she said.
"People won't mess with you," Mariella added. "Shame the men are gone off to work again. Or else I could show you Mr Graham and Mr van Linden. They were impressed."
Petulia Gristle frowned. She'd just heard the story of Markus Swaart.
"Excuse me. But this big man, this bully who Rebecka put down and made to look silly. The iconographs of him getting what I'm sure is a deserved come-uppance, like the injection in his rump and this one of him flat-out sleeping with his thumb in his mouth, are going to go a long way. He's going to feel humiliated. Now if this was some sort of novel or fiction, he'd learn from the humiliation, and try to be a better person."
Petulia frowned again.
"But this is the real world. I'm concerned he is more likely to come back and try to take some sort of vengeance on Rebecka."
"Good point." Mariella said. "I'll keep an eye out. I have a little influence locally."
Three Feegle and a Demon at the far end of the table had gone very still.
"Show us this man, Mistress Rebecka. We'll sort him oot for ye!" said Wee Archie. He was still piqued he hadn't been able to attend the fifteen-a-side on Saturday.(12)
"Aye." Wee Mad Arthur agreed. "We Feegle are sworn tae fight for our Hags. If the man makes trouble for ye, Miss Rebecka, call for us!"
"Problem solved, then." Hendricka said. "Mrs Gristle, did I hear you say you own a large pig farm?"
Petulia brightened up.
"I do. And I smelt pig in the air as we came in to land."
Hendricka scowled.
"The smell of pig. Yes."
Petulia smiled.
"Mrs Lensen, Rebecka said you might need somebody to visit and look over your pigs. Somebody with experience. Olga suggested I came along and took a look. Then make suggestions to the younger Mrs Lensen as to what should be done. By your leave, that is."
Hendricka looked relieved.
"I would welcome that. Go with her, Mariella, and show her your piggery? Dankie."
But before that." Olga said, "We need to speak about the other problem. This is why I brought Nadezhda, that is, Sergeant Popova, as she has experience. I have been considering ideas about Hearty-beast-er and its resolution. I would like to ask your help. You know everybody locally. Mrs Skribelaar, I may need access to your newspaper archives? And to your local knowledge. We overflew this place on the way in. I now absolutely know there is a problem that requires solving."
Bekki and Yulia, surplus to requirements, found themselves together in the dispensary, dealing with patients. Yulia's eyes lit up when she saw the orchestral bass, cello, and bass guitar, propped up in a corner of the room.
"You play, Firebird?"
"Up to a point." Bekki replied. "I got the cello from my little sister. She had a spare, and said I might want to experiment with it. Couldn't say no. I'm better on the bass. I practice out here when I can, nowhere near the house."
"I bring my violin sometime." Yulia said. "Now my Navigator knows the way. There are things like Rondo for Violin and Bass. I bring sheet music!"
"Err." Bekki said. Her ability to read music was pretty much on the level with her ability to read Rodinian. She saw the happy look on Yulia's face, and decided she'd ask Ampie for his help.
"This place nearby with the ghosts." Yulia said. "We flew over it on the way in. Unpleasant. Nasty. Stank. We all felt it."
Bekki nodded. She hadn't even thought the negativity would go up as well as across. But it made sense.
"I'm getting that Olga and Nadezhda came out here to do a recce and start making a plan." she said. "I hope they tell me what it actually is, once they've made it. But, err, you?"
Yulia shrugged.
"They needed a second pilot. Red Star couldn't come. Vetinari wanted her to fly to Queen of the Zulus, or she would have come here. Valkyrie was not on duty. Nottie on Control. I was the reserve."
A hadeda bird made its loud mocking call again, from near to.
"So they sent me to pick up Petulia the Pig Witch. To bring her here, to deal with thing here concerning pigs, that you asked about. She is with the younger mistress of this place now. Myself, sent to assist you in your steading and keep myself busy. You lead busy life here, Firebird!"
They worked on together, dealing with visitors. Yulia explained what had happened to her after the Thing with the Pegasus.
The Pegasus foal had happened quickly, as if it and the dam had made a pact to get all the tedious and uncomfortable childbirth experience over as quickly as possible. And the nearest witch had been Yulia. She didn't know much about animals, but reasoned leading the foal to milk would be a good start. She also, as she'd seen the grooms and the horsy people do, rubbed its back and flanks down with handfuls of straw.
Summoned to oversee and register the birth of a new Pegasus foal, Lieutenant Irena Politek and Corporal Stacey Matlock had seen the newborn alternately taking milk from the mother, and butting up against Yulia Vizhinsky in an affectionate way.
Irena read the situation.
"Khorosho." she said. "Change of plan for you, devyushka. As of now you are Pegasus Service, which means we swear you into the Air Watch. You and…."
"Skripka." Yulia said, without hesitation. Irena noted how the foal appeared to react to his name being used for the first time by his Witch.
"Skripka, when… he's… weaned. You're both coming to Ankh-Morpork. I hear you're good on broomsticks."
"Errr. Irena?" Stacey said. "Little problem…"
The lieutenant and the corporal went into a huddle. Yulia heard Irena say, incredulously "Never?" and Stacey firmly reply "Never."
Lieutenant Politek returned, shaking her head and looking cross.
"We have a little problem, devyuschka." she said. "For the first time, we appear to have a Pegasus Service pilot who has never, at any point in her life, ever learnt to ride an actual horse."
She glared at Yulia.
"It all works out, Irena." Stacey said, soothingly. "The foals always seem to know who's right for them."
Irena glowered.
"Not every Rodinian is a Cossack, ma'am." Yulia said. "Never learnt."
Irena considered.
"I had to learn late." she said, as if talking to herself. "Olga nagged me to. They say if you have to start learning to ride at seventeen, you're too old and you'll never do it. Well, that is so much bly'at and dermo. And govno. As I managed it."
She grinned at Yulia.
"Listen. A Pegasus rises to maturity in between eight and ten months. They grow fast. While that is happening with Skripka, you will learn to ride. It is achievable. I will speak to Captain Romanoff. Who is now your commanding officer. Welcome to the Pegasus Service."
And that was it." Yulia said. "I went to Ankh-Morpork. Nadezhda's husband, Yuri, saw teaching me to ride was a challenge. Kept falling off. Yuri taught me to fall so I didn't break any fingers. He knows they're important for violin playing. After a while I began staying on longer, going faster and falling off less often. After eight months, Skripka was grown and ready to ride. The next lessons were in the sky. Today I do runs to Brindisi. Vetinari thought since I speak Brindisian and can discuss music and opera with Brindisians, it would suit me. I like it!"
Elsewhere, plans were being made. A family of visitors who wanted to explore the Caarp Country would rent a guesthouse for a few weeks. These would be a mother, father, two sons and a daughter who, being foreign, would be excused any eccentricities.
Hendricka Lensen sad she would provide the guesthouse, having seen iconographs of Nadezhda's family. Two decent young boys and an absolutely sweet little sister, same age as Olga's Valentina. I should like to meet them. Nadezhda said she would be pleased to bring her family over.
Olga smiled and said this would allow them to roam, as all were above-average horseriders. She didn't add that it would put Nadezhda where she needed to be for another Duty, to periodically fly out to sea to report on the progress of a convoy of ships that would soon be turning round Cape Terror on their way to the Zulu Empire. It also meant that a more experienced Witch would, discreetly, be nearby to support Rebecka with regard to the Haartebeeste Affair.
Olga and her own children might join the others for a couple of days, f that's alright, Hendricka, and then three Witches might be on hand to root out the ghost with the thing for scissors and female hair. Plus of course one wizard, who could operate fully in the open, having received written instructions from his Direktor to "root about a bit, and to get to the bottom of this."
A lot later in the day, Eddie was returned to his University, then Olga came back to the Caarp to pick up Petulia who'd been happy to spare an afternoon from her own farm to help out with a pig problem. After Olga and Nadezhda had seen and approved of Bekki's Steading and had given her the outline of the working plan, Yulia picked up Nadezhda and two laden Pegasi returned to Ankh-Morpork via Lancre.
Knowing what the late afternoon and evening had in store, Olga vectored the returning flight to Spa Lane to do some diplomacy, catch up on people, and of course deliver the Bitterfontein papers to Johanna, plus a letter from Mariella. She rehearsed the points she'd been briefed on earlier by Pieter van der Graaf. Olga had sighed a deep resigned sgh. Having to shuttle people around at least four locations on the Disc,with only two Pegasi immediately available, took organisation and the mind of a chess-player.
At that point early on in her day she'd left Eddie and most of the others at her home in Joburg, promising to pick them up later. Yulia had accompanied her to the Foreign Office as Second Pilot, but had been politely refused clearance to be in the room with Olga and the Foreign Minister. She had waited in an ante-room, while the two senior people had an unminuted and unwitnessed meeting. This was entirely in keeping with the one that would begin later in the day in Ankh-Morpork.
(I will likely catch up on some of these outlines in the next chapter – need to get something out there )
An extract of a letter from Mrs Mariella Smith-Rhodes-Lensen of the Turnwise Caarp, to her sister, Doctor Johanna Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons of Ankh Morpork.
Wes Sandrift
Bitterfontein
Turnwise Caarp
R.H.
Dear Johanna.
Greetings from the rural backcountry nowhere of Bitterfontein, where nothing ever happens, apart from the long slow unfolding of vines and the background note of hadeda birds, mocking the many conceits of the human inhabitants of the Platteland.
Apparently, I now have a younger sister of whose existence I was previously unaware. It is possibly inevitable and inexorable, but in the eyes of everybody in this area who has seen us, a younger girl in her late teens who shares red hair with me and has something of a family resemblance cannot be my niece. Apparently I'm too young for that. (Pleasing, but inaccurate). The democratic hive-mind of Bitterfontein society has therefore decreed, after nearly three months of her being resident here, that Rebecka is my sister.
I feel strangely pleased with this. Despite our family being large and widely spread, I do feel as if I am still too young to be an aunt to a girl of this age. After all Pink Death Johanna is my niece too, but she is only two years younger than me and right from the start she dispensed with the "Aunt Mariella" business. She only ever uses this in jest or exasperation and I am quite happy with that!
Have you ever seen our local newspaper, the Bitterfontein Klarion? It is obliged to produce two rigorously segregated editions, one in Morporkian and one in Vondalaans, as Morporkian speakers around here tend to get restive at anything written in "kitchen Kerrigian", as they call it.
I will take care to secure copies, as Rebecka features. And for all the right reasons, Johanna. You may be impressed. I do also wonder how, in her time, Famke might bepresented as a topic of a newspaper article. That's an interesting thought.
To be continued and expanded. Just totally done in right now… (3/2/22, mid-evening)
Got to get this out – it's been a while, I know – more to come!
(1) See Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Also the idea occurs to me that if Johanna sees the potential in the Discworld's version of coca-cola… "klippies and coke" is a South African thing. But who popularised it? Also.. Davinia Bellamy growing the coca plants. She goes into partnership with Johanna about refining and bottling the essence for commercial sale…. "teaching the world to sing in perfect harmony" and all that.
(2) Warangi is a Ugandan thing. Uganda is a long way north of South Africa. In the Discworld, I have the Zulu Empire having expanded far enough to take in the local Howondalandian analogues of Mozambicque, Tanganyika, Kenya and Uganda, ending at the semi-desert of what might otherwise be "Somalia" and the Sudan. Ruth N'Kweze, after I realised where her physical description was going and that this isn't quite ethnically Zulu, was retconned to have a "Kenyan" mother, giving her another African vibe.
(3) so that she could read the scores.
(4) So that she could negotiate a contract and talk to orchestral recruiters, agents and venue management.
(5) Think of the opera house in Maskerade and the people who are part of the opera community. And reflect on the fact that pro orchestras swim in the same sea.
(5a) Terry Pratchett mentions the orchestral conductor who used his baton to skewer the liver of a luckless out-of-tune musician, and then cooked it over a cymbal. That sort of eccentricity.
(6) You know the thing about failed wizards who become Thaumaturgists? Well, the class of orchestral employee called the Turner or sometimes the Inside Player are the same sort of thing; not nearly good enough to actually play, you know, the actual music, but they can follow the sheet music on the stand, and know when to turn the page for the soloist whose hands are otherwise too full to do it for themselves. The Inside Turner is the member of the string section who is at the opposite end of the prestige scale from the Leader of the orchestra or the Principal Violinist. Sometime somebody whose ability to play is only just acceptable, but they are strategically seated at the far end of the line and are expected to follow the score closely, break off playing and turn the page, thus giving the cue for a ripple of page-turning to go on all along the line of string players. Watch a pro orchestra sometime. Loads of stuff happens that is not remarked on. Turners have the same prestige as Thaumaturgists and are expected to be humble and to Know Their Place.
(7) Horses know. If the human is clueless and has no idea whatsoever, they tend to play games in the manner of a rowdy class with a substitute teacher.
(8). I know. In horsey circles this is called bowing. Not "kneeling" as horses do not really have "knees". Horsey people get, if not annoyed, reproachful and astonished that there are people who don't even know simple things like this. Then they'll correct you. At length. Cossacks have taught their horses to do some really extreme bowing. (without pain or discomfort).
(9) Pilot Officer Akuma-san had distinguished herself in the joint exercise where the Air Watch had planned and executed a mock attack on the Navy in its home berth of Pearl Dock. And proved the point that a Navy at anchor was a great big target for air attack, as Vetinari had suspected.
(10) Older people unfamiliar with telephones and communication devices. Universal.
(11) See previously for the derivation of the place-name "Jo-burg". Mariella and Olga both have a reason to grin about this. Really abbreviating the name didn't take long at all for the people living there.
(12) Because a suspected witch bringing what might be mistaken for demonic Familiars with her in front of a couple of thousand witnesses might have been held to be blatant. Wee Archie and Grindguts remained on the farm, for now.
Notes Dump
Missed this first time round. A story is not a story without these little unrelated end-snippets.
A "Swommi" thing:
Salmiakki. This stuff is especially loved in Finland, and it is ammonium chloride mixed with liquorice. The taste is simultaneously sour, fiery and sweet, and ingesting ammonium chloride will accelerate salivation. It is enjoyed also elsewhere in Scandinavia, Netherlands and Northern Germany, but not so much elsewhere. Salmiakki Koskenkorva (salmiakki mixed with Koskenkorva Vodka) is the Finnish version of the Gargle Blaster.