Strandpiel, Book Two

by A.A. Pessimal

The continuation of the saga of interlocking families and friends, spread across at least two continents.

30. Pipers at the gates of dawn

Strandpiel 30

Gang Culture

In which it is possible that a new Gang emerges to make Ankh-Morpork's street theatre even more interesting. Regardless, representatives of some of the Discworld's biggest gangs – those honoured by the distinction of "Nation States" – are in conference to resolve a possible turf war. For the small-g gang: Depends on the way the story goes in my loose plotting and planning.

By the way, it is now late March in what will promise to be an eventful year. A bitterly cold winter is fading into a wet and muddy Spring, as one young Witch knows at a very deep personal level. Had to do some thinking based on the canonical Discworld calendar to try to work out if the month is actually called March (it is) and given a 16-day "January" followed by two 32-day months, does the Discworld have the equivalent of a Spring Equinox, and if so, when does it fall? Decided to work on the assumption it does and to keep it a bit vague. Put it down to the ceaseless but constant movement of the Disc on the backs of the world elephants, and that the Winter Quarter is now gradually passing overhead and becoming Spring. Which means "Spring Solstice" varies day by day depending on where you're standing…

Wasn't intending to, but a Piper At The Gates of Dawn appears here.

V0.03. Bloody FF chopping random bits of text out. Also, typos. Just typos.

---

Spa Lane, Ankh-Morpork.

The Air Watch contingent was warmly welcomed to the party assembling at Spa Lane. Olga introduced Yulia as a junior Pegasus Service pilot who was still learning the ins and outs and the fine details of the job, where she ceased to be an Air Policewoman or a duty Air Watch pilot, and was entrusted to fly missions and messages on behalf of Vetinari and the city.

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it quickly." Lord Downey said, kindly. "In my experience, the Pegasus pilots are exemplary people."

"His Lordship asked for you to go on the missions to Brindisi." Martin Vinhuis said, thoughtfully. "And your background is interesting. I understand you were set for a career in professional orchestral music when Witchcraft happened to you? The Wotua Doinov Conservatory. That delivers a thorough education in all aspects of classical music."

"The Wotua Doinov Conservatory." Lord Downey said appraising Yulia. "Doktor von Übersetzer, my Head of Music, speaks of the place as highly prestigious, where only the very best are admitted."

"Il Doge places a high priority on music and opera." Clement N'Effabl remarked. "Brindisi is the world leader in these things and its ruler considers himself to be a man of culture. Therefore, Lord Vetinari assigns a Pegasus pilot who has a classical music education."

Yulia grinned.

"His other title as Head of State is "il Duce", sir." she said. "The Leader. Il Duce can also be Brindisian for the conductor of an orchestra."

"The correct pilot for the correct job." Olga Romanoff remarked. "Always. And this is Sergeant Popova. She is not Pegasus Service, but she is one of my most experienced officers. She has recent experience of visiting the Zulu Empire on City business, and today was her first visit to Rimwards Howondaland."

Olga left this hanging and said

"Johanna, I have despatches for you personally from Mariella, and interesting news of what Rebecka's been up to. Also, local papers from Bitter-fountain that you will find of interest."

"Bitterfontein." Johanna said, automatically correcting her. "Salt Springs in Morporkian, if you must." Olga went to pass on the papers.

"Gentlemen, it will do no harm to break for a few minutes, while Doctor Smith-Rhodes catches up with her family news." Downey said.

"Of course. A courtesy." Martin Vinhuis agreed. "And newspapers from Home, albeit local editions."

Olga Romanoff smiled, appreciating one of the things that gave her job satisfaction over and above, relishing why Johanna was doing a double-take over the newspapers.

"Sacharissa's going to get copies, isn't she?" Johanna said, flatly.

"Local interest, Johanna." Olga replied, straight-faced. "A girl from Nap Hill making her name in a distant country. The Times values this sort of thing."

"Am proud of her." Nadezhda Popova said. "She did as Witch and Watchwoman should. A man was being public nuisance. She dealt with it. I am sure Mr Vimes will be pleased too."

Then, as Johanna shook her head and invited Lord Downey and the ambassadors to come and see, Olga spotted something else of interest.

Ruth Smith-Rhodes Stibbons had been easy to overlook all this time. She had been sitting on a high-backed sofa facing away from the adults in the room and had been quietly engrossed in her own world, with the adult conversation in the room being little more than background drone. Periodically, Claude or one of the maids had discreetly refreshed her glass and had brought her a small plate of treats. Ruth had been sipping the soft drink as she worked, but the plate remained largely untouched. Ruth herself had been largely invisible to the adults and had been forgotten, after a while, to everybody except the servants.

"This is to do with the Time Clock, isn't it, devyuschka?" Olga said, with kind interest. "Am I allowed to see?"

Johanna reflected on somebody who was potentially one of the most powerful and important people in Ankh-Morpork still taking the time to ask permission of a nine-year-old girl to be allowed to enter her world. She couldn't decide if that character streak made Olga Romanoff one of the most decent people out, or one of the most dangerous. Possibly both.

"The big clocks are going out to the Clacks people and to the Rail Ways and the Post Office." Ruth said. Olga sat on the arm of the chair and nodded encouragement.

"And also to my Air Watch." Olga said, admiringly. "We have one on the wall of the Briefing Room now, where my Pegasus pilots assemble in the morning. And this marvellous thing is your design, devyushka. Your idea."

Ruth went a little bit red. Overhearing, her mother tried to stop herself running the numbers. Copyright was Ruth's. She'd made sure of that. Her daughter got a percentage on each one built. Johanna made sure of that, too. The Smith-Rhodes Marketing and Management Consultancy also had one of the Universal Time Clocks on the wall, a symbol of its management of Ruth's financial affairs.

The significance of the clock was that it allowed somebody in Ankh-Morpork to calculate, just by turning a dial on the bezel, what the exact time was in any other place on the Disc in a matter of a couple of seconds. Given the complex interplay and dynamic movements of Disc, World-Turtle, Elephants and Sun, this had up until now necessitated some long complex time-consuming maths. Doing it via some sort of machine had been thought impossible.

Nobody had said that to Ruth Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons. Who had considered the problems involved, played with several dismantled clock and watch mechanisms to work out the mechanical principles involved, had an Insight or two, and then built one. Granted it had been the size of a large dinner-plate and had involved Ruth designing some brand new parts never before seen in a clock of any sort and then crafting them, but the idea had worked. The Guilds of Clock-Makers and Artificiers(1) were building them now, to order, for those institutions that had an interest in knowing what time it was in, say, San Dianus in Californicatia, so as to get a Clacks there on time from Ankh-Morpork, where it was eleven-thirty in the morning. Or the proper co-ordination of Rail Way services across the Disc, as lines spread further and the distances between stops increased.

The size of the built Clocks was diminishing as the makers learnt, slowly but surely, how to miniaturise the parts and refine Ruth's design. Even so, they were still too big to be comfortably carried by Pegasus pilots, the original reason for Ruth to build the first.

Olga, who wanted pilot-portable instrumentation, had a clear interest.

"Now people are using the Clocks, they've been reporting on how well they work." Ruth said, uncertainly. Olga smiled her encouragement. "Mummy and Daddy have been seeing their reports. Daddy talked about them with me."

"I get to see those reports too." Olga said. "People are really pleased with your idea, devyushka, and how well it works. I'm really pleased with you too!"

"Thank you." Ruth said. "Errr. I really did this for Bekki. Trying to find her a way to get to places on time. I know she isn't good at the sums."

"She isn't the only one." Olga said, encouragingly. "A lot of my pilots have difficulty with the sums."

She tried not to look at Yulia, who was having a renewed giggle over the newspaper pictures, which were circulating. In the background, Lord Downey said "Impressive!"

"Errr." Ruth said. "I saw reports from the Clacks people that said the clocks didn't work so well in high places, the really tall hills and mountains where there are Clacks towers, that sometimes they lose time and sometimes they gain time. I was frightened that was because of me. Not getting it right. I wanted to try and work out why. I think I know why. And you should know too. Errr."

"Go on." Olga said. She'd read those reports too. Clocks gaining or losing up to a minute in every hour, and always in high places.

"They're meant to work down here on the ground. That's the only place they've been tested. And they work really really well. On the ground. Even if they're the ones that went wrong high up, that have been sent back for testing. So I got to looking at the way they're made."

She indicated a book she was reading on properties of metals.

Some parts are made of brass. Others of copper. Other parts are steel. As you go higher, it gets colder. In the cold, metal contracts. You've got different metals contracting in different ways as it gets colder. That means the mechanisms work differently."

Olga nodded.

"And if you take these up in the air, they're going to lose accuracy as you go higher and it gets colder." Ruth said. "I've done the sums and a few ideas. At fifteen or twenty thousand feet up, the instruments might get really inaccurate. And Daddy's been working on other things you want to use, not just clocks. Things to tell you exactly how high up you are, and how fast you're travelling. The problem with metal in the cold might affect them too."

Olga saw the point of this. Equipment working perfectly on the ground, where the engineers and Teks worked, that might malfunction in the air. Where the pilots were, and where engineers didn't go.

"Have you spoken to Daddy about this?" she asked. "And thank you for noticing, by the way. It should not be too much of a problem for us because we rarely go much higher than six thousand feet. Two or three thousand, in normal circumstances. There is a Witch who went for the highest flight she could and estimated she reached fifteen thousand, but she ran into problems, and she had to go much lower very quickly." (2)

Ruth nodded.

"Do you fly often to really hot places?" she asked. "Because somewhere like the Great Nef is really really hot. In heat, metal expands. That will cause the mechanism to go wrong too."

"Same problem. Different direction." Olga said. "Ruth, have you a solution?"

"Invar." Ruth said, quickly. "Make as many of the important parts as you can in invar. It's a metal alloy that doesn't contract or expand."

Ruth smiled again.

"Two-thirds iron to one third nickel. Well, sixty-four parts iron to thirty-six of nickel. I've been reading about it. It's really really interesting."

Olga looked down. The top book on the stack was entitled Thermal Conductivity Coefficients in Metals and Metal Alloys, a Guide for Engineers and Artificiers. With Look-up Tables.

She had to remind herself she was talking to a girl of perhaps nine or ten years old. It was disconcerting.

"Daddy and Mister Librarian help me with finding the books." Ruth said. "I've got tickets for the library."

"They're very helpful." Olga agreed. "When I had to find something out and didn't quite know where to look for it, Mr Librarian got me tickets, too."(3)

"Mr Librarian really loves bananas." Ruth said. "He's nice."

---

"Impressive." Lord Downey said. "That brute of a man must be three times the size of Rebecka."

He sighed, resignedly, and set down the copy of the Bitterfontein Clarion (Morporkian Edition).

"Such a loss to the Guild that her life had to take a different direction." he remarked. "But Witchcraft's gain."

"My gain. Certainly." Olga said. She had left Ruth to do her thinkng and note-taking, so as to come over and join the others.

"Some things definitely run in families." Clement N'Effibl remarked. He smiled at Johanna.

"Most certainly." Martin Vinhuis agreed. He'd been a lower-ranking diplomat in Ankh-Morpork earlier in his career and had got to know the Smith-Rhodes family during a trying time. He'd been a witness to exactly what they were capable of, and had learnt.(4)

"So what if that big thug comes back at Rebecka?" he said, frowning. "We've been here before."

Johanna shared the frown. She didn't like the idea that her daughter might well have attracted her own Preet du Plessis. That situation had caused her some serious concern and had dragged on for months.

"According to Mariella, this Swaart person is too stupid to be another duPlessis." she said. "But malevolent, certainly."

"Rebecka is an an associate Guild member." Downey reminded her. "She can call on us for protection. Her status confers a level of privilege. Besides, your sister and her husband are close, and are aware of the potential danger."

"And according to the news report, there are thirty – well, twenty-nine - big fifteen-a-side players who are inclined to be older brothers towards her." Clement remarked. "She is their medic. She tended to their injuries. They respect that."

"As far as they're concerned, she's a sort of honorary bru." Martin said. "Accepted. One of the fifteen-a-side family. If a brute that size steps out of line again, I suspect it won't just be a bit of rough treatment at the bottom of a maul for him."

"When I was training in Lancre, I heard about a thing called the rough music." Yulia Vizhinsky said. The others looked at her. "As I am a musician, was interested. But Morporkian is not my first language, and I misunderstood. I understand the rough music was played for this man on Saturday. People had taken enough nonsense from him. They showed him this. If is sensible, he will learn."

"And Rebecka is also Air Watch." Olga said, firmly. "I look after my people. So does Nadezhda."

Sergeant Nadezhda Popova made a very stern emphatic nod.

"Mr Vinhuis, we cannot operate openly in your country, I realise. We are not your nation's police force. We are in Ankh-Morporkian service and we wear this City's uniform. In your nation, this is something we must take account of. But if this man makes a further threat of violence against Rebecka, I believe some things might be understood, diplomatically?"

Martin Vinhuis considered this, then smiled slightly.

"I trust in your ability to be discreet and deniable, Captain Romanoff." he said.

"Khoroscho." Olga said and smiled. "Which brings me on to something else we should like to discuss with you, privately. Mr Ambassador, when the other important business is concluded here and which must take priority, I really would appreciate your advice on a potentially sensitive issue. As to how we may proceed."

"I'd be delighted." Martin Vinhuis said. He'd spoken to Johanna and had the outline of the Haartebeeste Business. He agreed this was also an issue of concern.

He looked around him.

Lord Downey, here to facilitate discussion and who by consent was not Chairing a meeting that wasn't happening, met his gaze. They shared a Look with Clement.

Downey cleared his throat.

"Gentlemen, we are here to discuss matters of international significance and importance. We are agreed this informal discussion is sensitive and should be conducted in conditions of the utmost discretion and should involve only the minimum number of people. I am authorised by… well, I am authorised… to speak on behalf of Ankh-Morpork. I consider it important at this moment to respectfully ask those who are not immediately required to be present, to leave the room."

Olga got the point of this. She nodded to her pilots.

"Sergeant Popova? Officer Vizhinsky?"

Johanna said

"Ruth, sweetheart? I know you're good and quiet, but just now, the grownups need to talk privately?"

Claude nodded to the two maids and directed them to go to the kitchen, for now. He would call for them to be present, briefly, when needed.

Johanna smiled. Claude would of course remain. It was universally accepted that a good butler absolutely kept confidences. Besides, somebody needed to be on call to replenish drinks.

"I am not Pegasus Service. I am not diplomat." Nadezhda Popova said. She glared at the men who were the diplomats. "But I have been recently on duty in Zulu Empire. Was interesting. There I saw army assembling for war. And was not only army gathering in that country."

She nodded at Clement and glared at him, making the point.

"You have been away from your country for long time. I saw your land recently. There is worry in the air. People who know a war is coming and who are frightened. I had same feeling in Vulga country of Kazakhstan, where my own people continually fight Muntab and Klatch. I am Witch. I read feelings. I know thoughts that people do not speak, which are still there to be read. I am mother of children. I know feelings other mothers have. People frightened. Of losing home, family children. Of death, of loss. I read feelings of those who have lost and who know what it is to lose husband, son, sister, brother, children. I will say, Mr Ambassador Clement N'Effibl, that the mood in Zulu lands is of worry. Of fear. Of the damage a war will cause. They do not want war. But if called to fight they will obey. And fight war."

She glared at hm again to make the point. Then she turned to Martin Vinhuis.

"Today, saw your country for the first time. Was interesting. Met white people in place called Bitter Fountain. Mistress Lensen, the older Mistress Lensen, is sad at heart when she thinks of coming war. She thinks this is coming. She has seen this before. She knows the signs. She sees the signs. She spoke to me of her sadness about this. Many people in your country think war is coming. They are fearful of this. They think is inevitable. Nobody talks about this, but fear is in the air."

Nadezhda paused.

"People who are frightened do bad things."

She scowled at both Ambassadors, as if they were junior subalterns being informally rebuked by an old-time Sergeant.

"Prevent a war." she said.

"I felt it too." Yulia said. "Fear and worry in the background."

Clement and Martin looked at each other.

"Good advice." Martin said.

"From somebody who has seen what the public mood is currently like at home." Clement agreed. "For both of us. Thank you, Sergeant."

Nadezhda nodded acknowledgement.

Johanna reflected. Then she said

"Ruth, you've been buried in those books since you came home from school. I would like you to put them aside and do something different. Miss Vizhinsky is a musician. Why don't you show her the music studio?"

Ruth became more animated.

"She plays the violin." Olga said, helpfully. She smiled at Yulia.

"Off you go." she said. "For however long I'm in here, you get to play the violin in Air Watch time. I'm not unreasonable."

Nadezhda smiled.

"I can make some tunes on the balalaika." she observed. "Can also sing a little. I should go with them, if I am required to wait?"

"That's the one Babiushka Ogg described as the funny-shaped banjo with the square box." Yulia said. "As you play one, Sergeant, I am wondering if such instruments are a part of Witchcraft. Affinity, perhaps."

"Da, and there is song about hedgehogs." Nadezhda admitted. "But not in front of children, not even in Rodinian."

Excited, Ruth had taken hold of Yulia's arm and was moving towards the door. Nadezhda smiled and followed. At the door she turned towards the dignitaries again.

"Remember. People are worried." she said, and then turned her back. The door closed behind them.

"I met Sergeant Popova at the port of Sagalo." Marianne de Mènieres said. She was unsure as to whether she was meant to be here or not, at this point. "She was Ankh-Morpork's representative when the first ships were unloading. She and several other Air Witches."

"An observer." Olga said, smoothly. "So as to report back that certain informal preconditions were being met. Also, a Cossack. I deputed several Air Watch and Pegasus Service people to be there. Ones who could speak in Rodinian to fellow Cossacks, together with one whose Witchcraft places horses first, and makes them the most important thing to her. One who knows horses and their ailments. As a courtesy."

Lord Downey beamed.

So we now have evenly matched diplomatic delegations." he remarked. "Ambassador N'Effibl speaks for the Zulu Empire, supported by the direct envoy of the Queen-Regent Elect, Miss N'Kima.

"We also have Ambassador Vinhuis of Rimward Howondaland, supported by Doctor Smith-Rhodes, who knows how these games are played and has long experience.

"And possibly as impartial external observers from an uninvolved and neutral third party, one trusted by both sides, the Comptesse de Lapoignard and Major de Mènieres. Although it is noted that the Major is in the employment of the Queen-Regent Elect.

"And representing Ankh-Morpork, myself and Captain Romanoff. Eight people. All with a measure of political and diplomatic experience. Shall we proceed?"

Claude answered the door.

"Lieutenant Politek of the Air Watch, my lady." he reported.

"And that's everybody, I think." Olga said.

"Then let us proceed."

Lancre, late March, the same evening.

A cold late winter day on the cusp of Spring had passed into twilight. At this time of the year the receding and setting Sun was somewhere on the other side of Cori Celesti and would apparently sink into the sea somewhere on the opposite rim of the Disc. Technically, Lancre should have twilight for longer than, say, Ankh Morpork and definitely for a lot longer than Rimwards Howondaland, where by now it would be true night.

But, as Apricity Brabble had realised, that would only hold true if Lancre or the part of it where she currently stood, was on the flat, and not towards the bottom of a mountain valley. As well as that, she was in the middle of a deep dark wood. So she might just as easily be in the depths of a Dwarf mine at midnight.

Apricity steeled herself as she stood with the witches, grouped to one side of the Members of the Public who had gathered to bear witness to what was going to happen.

The place where they stood had for a long time been the Steading of an old Witch called Eumenides Treason. Standing on this spot to bear witness twice a year had been the Duty of the Witch who held this steading. Following a little Incident when Miss Treason had been unable to hold back a young witch who at the time was her ward, and Things Had Happened, it was now held prudent for there to be a lot of Witches here. So they could keep an Eye on each other and restrain any desire to get up and dance.

This was held to be understood, even though Miss Treason had Passed On and, in the manner of a Baba Yaga to a Vasilisa, the Steading was now that of Annagramma Hawkin.

Apricity had heard the story of the Going Away for the very old Witch in Zlobenia, a month or two back. Lancre-based student Witches from Rodinia had been given the day off to go Home as, well, it was Right for them to. Oxhana, Svetlana and Ludmilla had come back wide-eyed and subdued, having briefly interacted with one of the most powerful Witches of the old type left on the Disc. And to interact with senior Witches of their own ethnicity in their own space.

All three were here tonight, to observe and learn from a Lancre custom. All three had been told not to even try to dance. Older witches were there to watch and keep guard.

"Eumenides Treason." Svetlana said. "Hear she was BabaYaga."

Oxhana Petrovska snorted derision.

"Da, but a Baba Yaga always yields to the Vasilisa, who succeeds her," she said. "Miss Hawkin. She got Steading young, da, and she is blonde, certainly. But a Vasilisa?"

"Tiffany Aching was the pupil to the Baba Yaga." said the thoughtful Ludmilla. "Could be Mistress Aching was meant to be Vasilisa here. But she moved on. Steading only then got Annagramma Hawkin."

Apricity grinned. Annagramma was on the other side of the clearing being bossy, and hadn't heard that.

"She isn't so bad." Apricity said to the younger Witches. "Seriously. When she realised she had to shape up, she made herself learn. Annagramma is a Witch. When there's a need, she's actually quite good. Maybe you just haven't seen it yet."

"When Olga Anastacia brought me out here to learn, she said things are done differently here." Oxhana remarked. "But she and Nadezhda Veranovna said, is still Witchcraft. Just different Witchcraft."

"Hold that thought." Apricity said. The three girls acknowledged her, then went into a conversation in Rodinian, which to Apricity's ears was spiky and solid, in the way a tangle of blackberry briars was spiky and solid.

"How do, Priss, love."

Apricity turned to meet the delegation of older Witches. Nanny Ogg had made it out here to witness the night. She was accompanied by Lucy Warbeck and Petulia Gristle, who looked a bit tired and strung out. Apricity recognised the fourth as Stacey Matlock, who was in Air Watch uniform. She was normally based at the Air Station just outside Lancre town. Somewhere a horse neighed.

"I flew Nanny over." Stacey explained. "Short flight, faster, and spares her freezing on a broomstick. Besides, Olga wanted one of us here tonight."

"How do you people do it?" Petulia asked. "All the time? I feel as if the day is six hours longer than it had a right to be. Howondaland was really interesting, a bit of a problem with pigs I'd been asked to advise on, but I arrived at nine in the morning when every bit of me was telling me it was only six o'clock. I was glad to be there, but, errr, even now I'm back, everything's really got out of step with itself."

"Timezones." Stacey explained. She patted Petulia's shoulder. "Occupational hazard for us. When you're moving around the Disc so fast that Time doesn't keep up. It sort of lags behind. Right now, Howondaland is ahead of Ankh-Morpork by two and a half hours and ahead of Lancre by three. You can easily get lagged."

Stacey frowned.

"It never seems to bother the Pegasi, though."

Nanny grinned happily.

"Everybody here? Okay then, girls. We're here 'cos this is an edge. Witches and edges go together. Where there's an edge, there's a Witch. And tonight, this is one of the oldest Edges of all. Needs Witches. To Watch. And because of what happened here a few year ago, but at the other Edge time, all you young girls is going to have an older more experienced Hand on your shoulder just in case you takes it into your feet to go dancin'. Can't have that. Caused bother, last time."

Nancy nodded to the older witches who each took station behind one of the younger girls. Svetlana had the feeling the friendly hand on her shoulder might turn into a vice-strong grip if it needed to. Apricity, who had no guarding responsibilities, stood a little way to one side.

Together, they watched the Morris dancers dispel Winter and dance in the Spring. It was, Apricity reflected, explained away as symbolic.

She appreciated the conjurors' trick the dancers used as the clothing they wore went from pure white, winter snow, into the greens and russets and yellows of growing life. Knowing how it was done didn't make her less appreciative of the expertise.

The rhythms of the dance and the music reached her. It had an almost hypnotic effect. It completely failed to move her feet. But other parts of her started to do strange things. Suddenly, the real world faded out for Miss Apricity Brabble and a different reality intruded.

"Nanny?"

Nanny Ogg looked over and saw Apricity in a swaying trance. She registered the visible growth that was happening around her feet and saw the corn growing where previously there'd been none.

"Oh, bloody hells." she said, feelingly. "Should have thought on something like this was bound to happen. Come on, girls. We needs to get her feet up off the ground afore she's drained. We've got to get her to bed."

"What's happening, Nanny?" Anagramma Hawkin said. She had pitched in to get Apricity into the air and off the ground without needing to be asked or prompted, and was also telling people – not shouting at them, just telling them, firmly – to improvise a stretcher of some kind.

"Not sure, love." Nanny said, frankly. "But young Priss here is a Hedge Witch, in the best sense of the word. She deals with the green and the growin'. And we all saw her win the Witch Trials last year, din't we?"

She frowned.

"Tonight the lads is dancin' Winter away and Spring in." she said, half to herself. "Tonight's an Edge. Things happen on Edges. And Priss is our Hedge Witch. Somethin's took her. Best get her to bed and see if we can work it out."

Spa Lane, Ankh-Morpork.

"Geography." Johanna Smith-Rhodes said. "The classic invasion route into White Howondaland is over the Ulunghi Bend. The river flows shallow in summer end the land offers a direct route into the Heartlands, towards Pratoria."

Sissi N'Kima, sat on the opposite side of the table, looked at her old teacher without fear, and reminded herself they were here as equals. And opposites.

"That is correct." she replied. "Leaving aside that there are other axes of approach and the Ulunghi is not the only one. From our point of view, the same condition offers White Howondaland an equally strong jumping-off point across the river into the Ulunghi Province of the Empire. Supported from your two military fortresses at Lawke's Drain and Fort Rapier."

Sissi reminded herself that Johanna's family and home were right in the path of such an invasion. She had a right to be worried.

"It's also fair cavalry country." Ambassador Vinhuis remarked. "Any attack that co-ordinates cavalry in sufficient numbers with infantry coming up behind could make a lot of inroads into our nation before sufficient force could be amassed to meet them. And these days, you also have artillery. All three traditional arms of service. The days when the Zulu army was infantry-only seem to have ended."

People tried not to look at Marianne de Mènieres, who had brought the concept of field artillery to the Zulu Empire. The Queen-Regent-Elect had been enthusiastic about this.

The Comptesse de Lapoignard, present as a necessary neutral observer representing a third nation, as an accepted witness to the discussion, put on a sympathetic face.

"We seem to be reaching the heart of the matter." she said. "Both sides are deeply fearful of the intentions and capabilities of the other. It is possible that while sincerely meaning to avoid a clash of arms, in preparing for war and seeking to deter the other, battle may yet be joined."

"Her Majesty sincerely wishes to avoid open war with White Howondaland." Sissi repeated. "And everybody in this room, at one point or another, has met her. Some of you taught her at school. Others knew her as a colleague as a teacher at the School. Ambassador Vinhuis, in a previous term of service here, you met her several times. Riders of the Pegasus Service meet her officially in the course of their duties. Do you read the Queen as one who would lie and dissemble to achieve her will? I repeat. Her Majesty is sincere when she says she seeks to avoid war with White Howondaland. War is not her intention."

"I believe you." Lord Downey said. "I believe her."

He reflected for a moment.

"The old King lives. Yet Princess Ruth is even now being hailed as Her Majesty and as Queen?"

"The Paramount King lives, true. But barely. More and more of the duties of rulership are being assumed by Queen Ruth. Out of necessity. The end for Mpandwe cannot be long now. He is conscious for barely two hours of the day and is slowly slipping into the place where he will meet his ancestors."

"That is pravda. Truth." said Lieutenant Irena Politek. "Earlier today I was granted a brief audience with the King. He was lucid. He recognised me. He told me it was not yet time for the last farewell. But having greeted me, he wished me well, and passed on greetings from a brother ruler to the wily old fox in Ankh-Morpork. He then slipped into sleep again."

Irena sipped her tea.

"I have seen Death in many forms in many places." she said. "Usually as a working Witch. I would give him at most three months. Possibly less."

She looked grave.

"Sissi. Mr Ambassador. People in and around the Royal Kraal are living in a time of uncertainty. It pays to step away from the powerful and the decision makers, and to move among those who are powerless. The people are worried. And fearful. They want this twilight time to be over and for a new Paramount Monarch to emerge uncontested. Some are hailing Queen Ruth already. The people have no choice, and they know this. Queen Ruth is preferred. But the people would also serve a King Simbothwe if he emerged as victor. Maybe not as willingly, but they'd serve. What matters to the people is certainty. And a strong uncontested monarch. Whether it's a king or a queen is immaterial. When you look up from the bottom you just see a crown. And the points of sharp spears."

She smiled at Sissi.

"Have you given any real thought to the "hearts and minds" stuff?" Irena asked, pleasantly. "Now would be a good time."

"As Lord Vetinari has often remarked, what matters to the people is the assurance that tomorrow will be the same as today." Clement N'Effibl said. "If the ruler can reliably provide this, then rulers are much of a piece with each other. Interchangeable."

He looked at the others.

"In all nations."

Marin Vinhuis reflected on this.

"In all countries. Indeed." he said.

Emmanuelle de Lapoignard gave him an expression of sympathy.

"Speaking of the health of rulers, mon ami, your nation's Prime Minister is currently indisposed?"

Martin winced. He thought of the news from Home that Prime Minister van Vryman had been hospitalised, at just the moment the nation required leadership. It was thought that he would not be coming back and retirement would be forced on him, at exactly the wrong time for the state. His deputy had taken over management of the Cabinet, but a power struggle was going on among Ministers for the succession to Head of Government. Defence and BOSS, the hawks, were pushing hard. His information was that Pieter van der Graaf, the Foreign Minister, was working behind the scenes to block the hardliners and ensure a compromise candidate emerged.

"We have uncertainty too." he agreed.

"So what we decide here, if it is presented at home in the right way and to the right people, might be crucial." Johanna Smith-Rhodes said. "Present them with a done deal. Something that guides the thinking of Queen Ruth and assures her there will be no distraction to her taking down her brother. And reassurance to our nation that there will be no Zulu War."

"Her Majesty is mobilising an Army." Sissi said. "That is no secret. You will look over the river and see this happening. You will even see it approaching the Border in the Ulunghi Province. Advance units, according to my information, are there now. The queen's cavalry are patrolling the river. Scouting. But it is not there to be used against you."

"But her brother is also mobilising an Army." Martin said. "He is not giving assurances that his Army will not be used against us. I accept your assurances the Queen will not use her army against us. I have met her. Unless her mentality has changed on ascending to her current rank, which I doubt, I read her as being honest and favourably disposed. Pragmatically, she cannot afford a war in two directions at once. Especially when her brother's armies greatly outnumber her own. Her priority has to be her brother. And there, I put it, is the problem."

"And there, Martin, is the problem." Clement said. "The wild son of the King. The one who would go to war with your people. He has to be stopped. The threat neutralised."

"Civil war in the Empire." Marin Vinhuis said. He shook his head. "However short. Clement, there are people on my side who would see that as an opportunity. That's no secret."

"To foment division." Sissi said. She glowered and looked fierce, running a finger around the big surgical brace on her neck. "To keep us fighting among ourselves. It's also no secret that your people view the Ulunghi Province as yours, and you're still smarting at the defeat that forced you out of all but a tiny corner of it. So our concern is that while we are tidying the internal affairs of the Empire and our military strength is diverted, what is to stop your hardliners declaring the time is right to push back to what you call the Blood River?"

"Madam, if the succession in government places BOSS or Defence into the ascendent, the I can give no such assurance." Martin Vinhuis said, honestly. "And I agree, and Pieter van der Graaf agrees, such an act would be reckless and stupid. Mr van der Graaf concedes the Blood River country is lost beyond any hope of retrieval and he accepts the current border is correct."

Sissi nodded. She ran a finger around the neck brace again.

Martin continued.

"Which brings us to the Bronkhorstspruit Question." he said. "The salient. Our enclave on what is otherwise the Zulu side of the River."

"The last remnant of your Blood River Country." Sissi agreed. "Queen Ruth's policy remains unchanged. The status quo remains. She is happy for this to remain yours. You have her assurance."

Martin nodded.

"But Prince Simbothwe."

"Would launch his legions and wipe it out." Sissi said. "Which means all-out war."

They contemplated this.

"May I speak frankly?" Sissi said. "In the longer term, the Queen is looking for détente and rapprochement between our nations. She suggests we should move – slowly and incrementally at first - to an open, demilitarised, border. She has speculated that Bronkhorstspruit is ideally placed as a crossing point, a trading gateway, a point of free movement between our nations. Therefore she would never move to destroy or capture it. In the long term, it is strategic and valuable."

Sissi smiled.

"And what would her brother do?"

She left the answer unspoken.

"If he attacks at Bronkhorstspruit." Martin Vinhuis said, slowly. "Then that is war."

"We do not want that." Clement N'Effibl stated. "You do not want that. But the peril is that Simbothwe will instigate it. Ruth's greatest priority is to stop him. She knows this. We are asking your nation to trust her and to stand back while she deals with him. And given the history our two countries have, this is a big leap of trust and faith that she is asking for."

"Has anyone attempted to speak to Prince Simbothwe?" Downey asked. "it would seem to be an obvious and a prudent thing to do. To ascertain his intentions, and to make the case to him that he is not living in the world of two centuries ago. T ake him see reason."

Irena Politek shook her head.

"Lord Vetinari's instructions to the Embassy in the empire, and to myself as a regular diplomatic visitor, are to keep trying to bring about such a meeting." she said. "But he blanks me out and considers I am beneath his dignity. The Ambassador to the Empire is routinely snubbed. Ankh-Morpork has been told by him to stay out of the affairs of the Zulu Empire. His friends and supporters at Court are cold and hostile. I understand foreign Embassies including Ankh-Morpork are quietly making plans to evacuate all except a skeleton staff, should he make a play for power. The usual sort of threats have been made about corroding foreign influences, for instance."

Irena shrugged.

"Doesn't help that I'm the same nationality as the hated white cavalry Ruth is importing." she remarked. "White people riding horses and speaking Rodinian really get the evil eye from Simbothwe's people."

"Any direct threats?" Olga Romanoff asked.

Irena shook her head.

"Not yet. No overt attacks on me or my Pegasus. Simbothwe isn't completely crazy. He knows, or he's been urgently told, what happens next if one of us is attacked."

"Take an escort next time." Olga said. "A co-pilot. And it wouldn't hurt to pack a couple more Feegle. Visible deterrent and a show of strength."

"Rules of Engagement apply. Got it, Olga." Irena said.

"I'd give you Sophie Rawlinson." Olga remarked. "She's a show of strength and a visible deterrent all on her own. Shame she's on other duties for the next month or two."

Clement and Sissi smiled.

"The one who fireballed the were-serpent. And punched out a Witch-Finder."

"He found a witch and wished he hadn't." Sissi agreed. "She has a reputation in the Empire."

"Miss Rawlinson." Downey said reflectively. "A young lady with a passion for horses. Captain Romanoff, I am assuming she will be part of the convoy fleet that will be transporting horses ultimately to Howondaland?"

"Not all the time." Olga said. "She has other duties. With relatively few people, I have to continually be flexible concerning their deployments. But she is a key part of the operation, certainly. One who can treat equine ailments and keep horses healthy."

"And so we come back to Cossacks." Martin Vinhuis said. "I have to say that nobody at Home is completely happy with this idea. There are some who are currently jockeying for increased power who would prevent this fleet from rounding Cape Terror, let alone allowing it to pass through our territorial waters."

"They will be sailing under the Ankh-Morporkian flag." Downey said, smoothly. "I'm sure even BOSS and the Bureau of Defence know the implications of this. Your Navy certainly will."

Ambassador Vinhuis nodded gloomily.

"Lord Vetinari has requested I make certain things transparently clear." Downey continued. "At present, I believe there is only one Rail Way line in the whole of Rimwards Howondaland. The one linking the Turnwise and Widdershins ports of Caarp Town."

"That is so." Martin confirmed. "For a long time, old-style sailing ships have been unloading on the Turnwise side of Cape Terror, their freight has been transported overland, and reloaded to a ship in the Widdershins port. This has been considered preferable to losing a ship in the passage of the Cape, so near the Rim. Building a rail link has vastly speeded this."

Downey smiled.

"So your nation now sees the value of rail. Would you like to accelerate work on a Rail Way that links the major cities, at least to begin with? Windhoek, Caarp Town, Bloemfontein, Pratoria, the port city of Turban, and New Scrote."

"And the line from Pratoria to New Scrote might call at Piemberg." Johanna Smith-Rhodes said. "Any line Hubwards from Caarp Town to Windhoek might pass through Bitterfontein. Just a suggestion."

"Indeed, Johanna." Downey said. "If all goes well, a consortium of private backers in Ankh-Morpork are prepared to advance the necessary finance to augment local investment, and make this work. But this is rather dependent on the work being carried out in a stable, peaceful, country."

Martin saw the point of this immediately. "I will pass this information on, my Lord."

"Also, the Clacks." Downey continued. "Your nation at present has a clacks network that connects the major cities with spur lines to strategic border locations, such as Chirundu and Piemberg. Potentially threatened border towns and cities where speedy communication would be vital for military purposes. But large regions of the hinterlands are at present not served."

"My sister keeps me informed about her region, the Turnwise Caarp and the Little Kazoo." Johanna said. "There is discontent locally that they are so close to Caarp Town, one of the major cities, but are otherwise regarded as a rural backwater. She sees no reason why they should have been overlooked for so long with regard to infrastructure such as the Clacks. She also points out that when she runs a business involving transportation of a finished product in lots of glass bottles, it is not ideal for the roads to be rudimentary, unsurfaced, and full of large potholes." (5)

"So, investment in basic infrastructure." Emmanuelle said, thoughtfully. "Of the kind which may be indefinitely delayed, possibly because of the massive amounts of money needed to sustain a military, against potential external threat."

"This too can be considered." Downey said, dangling another carrot. "Ankh-Morpork has the resources to invest in partner countries. To facilitate their trade with the rest of the world and to boost the local economy. To prime the pump and enhance levels of prosperity."

He noted the national delegations considering this.

"The Zulu Empire at present has no Clacks." he said, offering the agreed bait. "Nor the Rail Ways. And the interests I am empowered to speak for are keen believers in being even-handed."

Sissi scrunched up her face into deep thought.

"If Bronkhorstspruit is opened up as a crossing point at the border between our nations." she said, "then Queen Ruth, who thinks for the future, might inquire about the potential for a Rail Way line here. Connecting the City of the Lionesses to the sea, at the growing port of Sagalo. After all, your nation only has the one port on its Widdershins Sea side, at Turban. Linking to a second port on this sea would double capacity."

"An audacious proposition." Martin Vinhuis remarked. He also noted the emphasis not on the old Royal Kraal, but to the new and growing stone-built city. "And certainly good for both our nations. In the fullness of time, obviously. The time may not be right now, and many smaller steps need to be taken first."

"Building continues at Sagalo." Marianne said. "When I left to come here, a second pierhead was being constructed, this time a more solid permanent one, and work has begun on creating a harbourside deep enough to allow ships to dock directly. Trusted people are overseeing this and there is no shortage of labour. Where there are simple instructions, good people to supervise, and the right people and the right resources are in place, building is swift."

"I don't doubt you." Martin said, sincerely.

"But all this is dependent on peace, and immediately, on security and stability." Downey said. "Or the sustaining finance will not be available. Investors do prefer to build in places where no destructive war is happening."

The delegations considered this.

"The Cossacks." Martin prompted. "The cavalry."

"Will not be used against White Howondaland." Sissi said, firmly. "The Queen has given her word. They will not cross the River. Her Majesty, however, reminds you of the sole exception to this assurance. If you invade us, they will fight, as part of her Army. She also respectfully asks you – your own cavalry may be more numerous, but are they as good? She hopes this is never tested."

"If that happens." Johanna said thoughtfully. "White people in Zulu service. Fighting other white people. BOSS will go utterly baboon-kak."

After a few moments of reflection, the conversation moved on.

"The clacks." Downey said. "Rimwards Howondaland has the clacks connecting all major cities. Largely, I have to say, along military lines of communications. It has been suggested to me that the next phase will tie in smaller cities and settlements which are not yet served."

He nodded to Johanna.

"Places such as Bitterfontein and the Winelands, perhaps."

"The clacks is a strategic thing, perhaps?" Emanuelle said. "The border regions that face potential threats are well served. So as to facilitate speedy military communications. But the Heartlands are not. And they ask why they are overlooked. Priorities, peut-etre."

"And the Zulu Empire has no Clacks at all." Marianne observed.

"That has also been noted." Downey said, smoothly. "Influential people are of the opinion that in assisting overseas development, Ankh-Morpork should be seen as even-handed and favouring none."

Sissi frowned.

"We have not needed the clacks as much." she said. "We have lots of people capable of running fast for long distances. These days we now have cavalry. The Queen depends on runners and messengers to relay news to her from all parts of the Empire."

"Such messengers could be waylaid and the messages intercepted." Emmanuelle said, practically. "if I were Simbothwe and wished to render the Queen blind and deaf, they would be obvious targets."

Sissi nodded, gloomily. It was a weak spot.

"With our newcomers, we are now setting up fortified way-stations in the Queen's lands." Marianne said. "I am told the word is stanitsa. To change horses and to speed the messengers."

"A stanitsa can still be attacked and taken by superior force." Olga Romanoff remarked. "To do so, however, means every Cossack in the Empire will then want to find and punish the aggressor."

"Which opens a civil war." Martin Vinhuis observed.

"Which adds a risk to any Clacks lines being offered to the Zulu Empire." Downey said, smoothly. "Should we offer such an advancement to the Empire so as to facilitate the Queen having even swifter communications at her disposal, such clacks towers might follow the lines of the stanitsa waystations, which I suspect Her Majesty is establishing along fast direct lines of communication. The engineers might find the ideal locations for Clacks towers have already been surveyed, which would speed the process."

Johanna considered this. Then she started to realise the greater implications. She looked over at Sissi N'Kima. The same sort of realisations appeared to be dawning in her face too.

"The Grand Trunk Company of Howondaland." Sissi said. "Would this, by any chance, also be responsible for establishing the Clacks in the Zulu Empire?"

Dwney smiled, benevolently.

"Why should it not?" he asked. "It makes administration so much easier if both Clacks networks tie into the same framework. And I'm sure it's occurred to Doctor Smith-Rhodes that a Clacks tower at Piemberg would be in direct line of sight to one on the Zulu side of the river. They would necessarily need to communicate in the normal way of things. Not physically linked, as this is currently illegal under Rimwards Howondalandian law. I should imagine it would be rather hard to tell Clacksmen not to communicate with a tower in direct line of sight, in fact."

Johanna grinned.

"And Lord Vetinari rather wants the Zulu Empire to have the Clacks." she said. "Any such agreement would be between the governments of Ankh-Morpork and the Empire and nothing to do with us."

Downey grinned.

"Exactly, Johanna. We are offering the clacks to the Zulu Empire. At a very preferential rate."

---

Apricity Brabble knew at a very deep level that she was safe. Probably. She had been aware of physical movement and sensed her body was in a warm secure place and was being tended. If she focused hard, she could hear, at the very edge of awareness, a conversation that involved Nanny Ogg and Annagramma Hawkins, directing what needed to be done. But it was a long way away, in a different world.

What mattered immediately was that while part of her insisted her body was lying down possibly on a bed, the part of her that mattered was actually standing up, completely conscious, in fact more than everyday conscious, in a completely strange place with lighting that didn't appear to follow the regular rules. She heard talking going on around her. At first it came as a buzzing of noise, where all she could distinguish for certain was that some speakers were apparently male and others apparently female.

She felt tiny, in a huge place where massive pillars soared up to a roof she knew she would not be able to see. She was, where she stood, bathed in warm green light. She seemed to be standing in the middle of a band of it, that was somehow straight and curved at the same time. To her left, the green appeared to shade into blue and then into shades of purple. To her right, green gave way to orange then yellow and red. Above her, the colours merged into octarine and natural white.

Apricity knew, or was prompted, that the green was exactly where she was meant to be. It was another Edge…

"The mid-point of the rainbow." she said, and then wondered why.

More detail settled. Way over there in the purple distance was a throne. With a seated figure. And way over there where the rainbow became bright almost eye-hurting red, was another throne. Also with a seated figure. She was aware of others, on the edge of vision, the brink of perception, who were also present. Like a Royal Court of some sort.

Apricity turned to face the seeming old man, dressed in blue robes with white trim, on the throne at the purple end. She registered there was no wall behind him, and the space appeared to recede into unguessable depths of purple that fell into what might have been deep gloomy darkness. She saw the throne itself was made out of ice with an infinity of internal refractions. And that his crown was made of the same ice. She made the witch-bow.

You know my name, girl.

It was a challenge. Apricity, strangely without fear, felt the answer coming into her head.

---

And in the real world, a group of anxious Witches clustered around a bed heard the patient say, just once

"Morozko"

---

The king on the throne nodded once to Apricity.

"See? You know.

Apricity bowed again and turned on the other direction, to bow to the Queen on the red throne. Her clothing shimmered with red and orange and yellow. The throne she sat on appeared to be made of trapped and shaped fire, irridescent and ever-shifting in the same three colours. She wore no crown, but carried a large curved horn on her lap, as if this were a sceptre of office. The space behind her receded into deeper reds and then into unguessable depths of darkness.

Apricity bowed to her too.

"You are the Summer Lady, the Summer Queen." she said. "Witches know you."

And I know Witches. she said. One especially. But do you know my true name, cereal girl?

Again a name came to Apricity.

---

Nanny Ogg frowned as the girl in the bed said

"Aestas."

"Somethin' odd's goin' on here, girls."

---

Apricity tried to make herself look impassive as the King and the Queen descended from their thrones and walked towards her. She noticed that the King took care to stop at the very edge of the blue light, and stopped short of stepping into the green. Likewise, the Queen came to the very edge of the yellow light and stopped there.

Maybe if I adopt the form she knows best, she might understand better why she is in this place. The King said. The Queen nodded.

Make it quick. she said.

The air shimmered.

---

The girl in the bed shifted and spoke.

"Wintersmith." she said.

Nanny Ogg grimaced.

"Oh, bugger!" Nanny said, feelingly. "Not again!"

---

Apricity had never seen him before. But she knew. She looked at the icy youth.

"I will warn you. I will not dance." she said.

The Wintersmith shook his head.

In this place, all our forms resolve. The Wintersmith is a form I wear where people crafted me in this form. Morozko is and is not my father. My grandfather. My elder brother. In this place which is miles below Cori Celesti in your world, but Elsewhere at the same time, all forms meet. As the Wintersmith in your world when I walk in that world, I only know myself to be the Wintersmith. there i am constrained by his thoughts and emotions and know nothing else. An amnesia descends. Here, I have full memory of all my forms. All are equal and valid. I know that here. You have nothing to fear, Miss Apricity Brabble. Things were explained to me when I returned here.

We have many names and many forms, cereal girl. Belief shapes form. I am the Summer Lady to your people. Just as the Wintersmith of your people is, and is not, Morozko and Ded Moroz to Rodinians.

---

The girl in the bed started speaking again. "Aine. Theros. Damia. Freya. Hine-Raumati…"

The catalogue of names went on for some time. It concluded in

"Aestas. The Summer Lady."

"Ah." Nanny Ogg said. "Wherever she is, they're both there."

---

"So, why am I here, please?" Apricity asked, politely. As she was a Witch, she also asked firmly.

You brought yourself here. the Wintersmith said. Nobody forced you or brought you.

Your actions brought you here. said the Summer Lady. And your thoughts. When you started thinking about us and our natures, do you not think this was as good as a summons? When you gave imaginative thought to what exactly happens when Winter gives way to Summer, and a half-year later, Summer must in her turn give way to Winter?

You paid attention. the Wintersmith said. To the Edges. And what happens at those Edges.

And what you call Magic found an outlet in you. Through your feet.

The Summer Lady laughed. There might have been amusement in it.

"You have fertile feet, cereal girl. Things can grow where you tread, if you choose to allow this. The other humans are amazed by this and for a season acclaimed you as the greatest Witch. But do you really believe this did not come at a price? And one day those who command these things might not call on you to pay that price?

Apricity considered this.

"And this is where I'm presented with the bill." she said.

The Wintersmith and the Summer Lady did not laugh. Near and separate, they considered her.

"The power came from you. We did not grant it. You worked out the secret all by yourself. But it drew our attention." The Summer Lady said. The Wintersmith nodded.

You have placed yourself in between us. he said. As one Witch did before. Now the balance needs to be restored. A space was created. And you must fill it. We will show you the way.

Take our hands.

Apricity felt a hand, cold as ice but just about bearable, taking her left hand. A hand, hot, uncomfortably hot, but just about bearable, took her right hand.

To her complete discomfort, she felt her clothes fade and become insubstantial, then disappear. As energy began to fill her from her toes up, she was briefly naked. Then she felt some sort of flimsy, gauzy, tunic, light and billowing, forming around her.

Daughter of the Winter.

Mother of the Summer.

We salute and honour you.

The rainbow cave faded away. And Apricity realised she was in the real world again, looking out from a high place over a sea and a horizon full of rainbow light, intense in the pre-dawn dark. The three stood underneath a plinth. It had a statue on the top.

You are on the Rim of the World, cereal girl. The Edge of land and water, the Edge of the very world itself. And both of us cannot be here very long.

Apricity looked down at her bare feet and then to the flimsy diaphanous tunic that barely came to mid-thigh. She looked on the rainbow Rimfall and wondered if this was still the same place. Or just a reflection of the Other Place that she had visited.

You are on the tip of Cape Terror, as mortals name it. Under the statue of Sir Cecil Smith-Rhodes, who stood here and challenged the Rimfall. Or so the humans here claim.

A brief silence conveyed a supernatural sneer at the pretentions of mortals.

You have a job to do. And you must hurry.

Apricity suddenly knew. She put the thought out of her mind that the man above her, forever preserved as a statue, must be related to Bekki Smith-Rhodes in some way. Not important.

"I dispel the winter, and bid him farewell." she said, and bowed to the Wintersmith. He saluted her, looked sad and wistful for a moment, and faded.

She turned to the other.

"I welcome the Summer, and I am her herald." she said. The Summer Lady bowed to her.

Now complete the Dance that was started in Lancre. the Summer Lady said. I will follow, at my own pace.

She gestured a dismissal.

And Apricity suddenly knew, as pan-pipe music came out of nowhere. She tried not to find it annoying.

We will meet again in six months, cereal girl. Now, run!

Apricity wondered where the satchel, the large open bag slung over her shoulder, had come from. But as the Dawn rose over Rimwards Howondaland and the sun asserted itself from behind the Rimfall, here on the Rim, she began to run.

Spa Lane, Ankh-Morpork.

"If necessary, I can provide swift transportation back to your home capitals so you can consult the political leadership." Captain Olga Romanoff said. "It has been done before, swiftly and discreetly. Ambassador Vinhuis, you remember how we brought President van Baalsteufel here in conditions of great secrecy, in the aftermath of an attack on your Embassy?"(6)

"I do. You delivered him." Martin said. "Previously, you flew Mr van der Graaf directly to Pratoria during the Tobacco Fields emergency." (7)

"And you conveyed me to the Royal Kraal recently to answer a summons from my father." Clement N'Effibl said. (8)

"Then call upon us, if this is needed." Olga said. "We can get you there within the hour. My pilots will be instructed to wait for you for when you need to return."

Martin sighed. He smiled a wan smile. Clement returned it.

"It appears we have both been offered a lot of inducements, Clement."

"To maintain the peace. To refrain from war. Perhaps a bag of sweeties, to make sure we both play nicely in the sand-pit and refrain from causing tears before bedtime."

They considered this.

"Tasty sweeties, though."

"From the man who owns the sweetshop." Sissi N'Kima said.

"Investment." Martin said. "To expand the Clacks. To build a Rail Way network."

"To improve the bloody roads." Johanna Smith-Rhodes said. "Needs it. Big-time. Pot-holes a bloody dwarf could build a mine in." (9)

All sides considered this.

"And what we need to do is to avoid war. For my side to take a leap of trust, to accept the Zulu Empire is not out to attack us and to stand back while the Queen-Regent deals with a brother who would invade us." Martin said.

"We want that also." Clement said. "And for your country not to impede the progress of a shipping convoy to the Zulu Empire that will inevitably pass through your claimed territorial waters between Caarp Town and the Rim."

"The cavalry they bring are not to attack you." Sissi said. "How much assurance do we need to give on at?"

"I believe you." Martin Vinhuis said. "But I need to convince a Government."

"Tell me when you want to travel." Olga said. "You need time to pack bags first."

"So you are provisionally agreed?" Lord Downey asked. He smiled. "I can offer written proposals as proof that Ankh-Morporkian business interests are prepared to advance investment. Something tangible to back these informal discussions."

The Countess Emmanuelle de Lapoignard smiled at them.

"I am to report back discreetly, to Ambassador de Champignon, about this meeting." she said. "But I believe a time may come where discreet informal discussions like this may need to move to declared formal meetings. Especially concerning the future possibility of demilitarising and opening the border. A neutral nation trusted by both parties, perhaps. Monsieur de Champignon has speculated that Quirm might be acceptable as a place for such discussions."

"If all goes well, that Rail Way from Pratoria to Sagalo. Passing through Piemberg, crossing the border at Bronkhorstspruit, calling at the City of the Lionesses and reaching the coast at the port of Sagalo." Johanna said. "Allowing a route for trade both into and out of the continent, and of great economic benefit for both nations."

Privately, she considered how much money she could put into such a plan. As an investment. And into the Clacks expansion. One way or another, Vetinari is going to force the border to open. This exactly how he would do it.

The ambassadors agreed they would now need to report back to their governments. Claude stepped forward to replenish drinks.

"Mr Ambassador, now the main business is concluded, if we could ask you for your opinion on the other matter?" Olga asked. "This is something that has a lot of potential for going wrong if it isn't handled with care, and I really don't want to provoke an international disagreement."

"Of course." Martin Vinhuis agreed. He accepted a fresh glass.

Olga was just about to begin discussions on protocol and procedure regarding the events at Haartebeeste when the communicator in her pocket buzzed into life. She frowned. She had emphasised to Sergeant Nottie Garlick that he wasn't to be disturbed unless something of real importance and emergency happened. Olga stopped herself scowling when it occurred to her that Nottie was good at what she did. Of course it'd be an emergency.

"Excuse me." she said. "I must take this call."

~~Ynci Control to Syren and Mother Hen. Calling Syren and Mother Hen. Please respond.

"Syren here, Ynci. What's up? Over."

There was a sudden burst of violin music on the communicator. Everyone jumped. Johanna reflected on how good the soundproofing in the music studio was, that they simply couldn't hear it directly from maybe a hundred and fifty feet away. But comm'd back to Pseudopolis Yard and rebroadcast to Olga's comms unit, it was coming over loud and clear.

~~Here Mother Hen. What is message, please?

~~Wow, you can get music on these things now? What button do you press?

"Syren here, Ynci. Long story .Over."

~~Skripka. Скрипка. Пожалуйста, перестаньте включать музыку. Спасибо.

The violin music stopped.

"What's the emergency, Ynci? Over." Olga said, pointedly.

~~More of a very tricky situation. Syren. Delicate. We at least need Mother Hen back at the Yard, soon as she can manage.

There was the sound of a deep breath being drawn.

~~Vorona and Kestrel just had to break up a street brawl over on Progressive Alley. Behind Filigree Street. Two groups of adolescents having a disagreement. Kids' fight. Err."

Olga frowned. She reminded herself not to get annoyed. There had to be a good reason for Nottie to want to brief her.

~~Normally small change stuff where we'd issue a caution, if we got involved at all. The thing is, Syren, two of the scrapping kids were Air Watch cadets. Errr.

"Go on." Olga said. "Names, please." Olga decided that a degree of Shouting At was going to happen. Better she delivered this, and not Sam Vimes.

~~Which Fledgelings? And anyone hurt?

It occurred to Olga that Nadezhda Popova was going to do some shouting-at of her very own. Nadezhda didn't sound happy.

~~The Air Cadets are Alexandra Mumorovka and Samantha Collier. Errr. Vorona and Kestrel also picked up three Student Assassins for brawling and disorderly conduct.

Olga looked around her. Lord Downey's face had changed from "slightly smug" to "not amused."

"Do we know which Assassins, Ynci? Pep… Lord Downey… is present.(10) If we can advise him as to which of his people need to be collected from Watch custody and spoken to, it would be courteous. Over."

~~ Student Assassins identify as a Constance Muthelezi, a Thora Brittasdottir, and a Famke Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons, Syren. All second year students aged around thirteen. We've got them under guard here. If the Guild can send somebody round to be their Responsible Adult, we'd be grateful. Advisory: when Mr Vimes finds out, he's going to go spare. Over.

"He won't be the only one." Johanna said. "I should go, my Lord?"

"We could drop you off at Pseudopolis Yard on the way back to the Palace, Johanna." Downey said. "Please advise the students that if they can't come up with the best and most compelling mitigating reasons possible for their conduct, they will be in very deep trouble indeed."

"Siren here, Ynci. What exactly happened?"

~~I'll try to keep it brief, Syren. Vorona reported she was with Kestrel on a routine City patrol over the University and Guilds sector when she noted a disagreement beginning between the Air Watch cadets and a bunch of about seven or eight typical street kids who had been trailing them. She thinks Dipstick and Cadet Collier were being responsible and trying to avoid trouble – two of them against eight, you can see that – but the other kids wouldn't let them alone and were pushing for a fight. just the usual stupid bullying. Vorona says she and Kestrel went stick-down behind a roof ridge and watched. They thought they might need to intervene. Then when the pushing and shoving began and it looked like it was at least going to be an attempted robbery, these three student Assassins turned up. They pitched into the fight alongside Dipstick and Sammy - with them not against them - and it got, shall we say, eventful. Vorona says she thinks it was justifiable self-defence, at least for the two Cadets. But she still had to pull them all into the Yard anyway, what with six of the attackers having been knocked down. Mainly by Dipstick, and by one of the Assassin girls, who seems to know her. Dipstick seems to be the reason why the Assassins got involved, according to Vorona. They recognised her and decided to even the odds. By the way, Dipstick and the red-haired girl, Miss Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons, deny they're friends. Fiercely. Ynci out.

Olga, Johanna and Lord Downey winced together. Nadezhda spoke on the Comms. She did not sound happy.

~~If not needed here, permission to go to Yard, Syren? Fight involving Fledglings. My responsibility.

"Syren here. Briefing received, Ynci. Thanks. Permission granted, Mother Hen. Do me a favour and try to get there first, before Mr Vimes does? Tell Skripka she can stay where she is, for now. I'm not unreasonable. She can play violin till I resolve some other pressing stuff and then she can fly back to the Yard with me. Keep me informed. Syren out."

Olga shook her head, and she and Irena went to confer with Martin Vinhuis on the other thing.

Johanna, scowling, went to get her coat. Clacks messages were sent for discreet cabs. Shortly afterwards, a single broomstick took off for the brief flight across the city to Pseudopolis Yard. Johanna flew as pillion passenger behind Nadezhda Popova. In the air, she noted a milder and slightly warmer feel to the air, as if spring was beginning. It felt like a clement evening with little cloud in the sky.

Lancre, late evening (local time)

Nearly six hundred miles Hubwards of Ankh-Morpork, a group of Witches gathered beside an unconscious girl who was lying in a bed. This particular bed was in a bedroom with a lot of frills, flounces, flowers, and sparkly femininity to it. The bedspread was stylish and colourful and still managed to be decorated with a pattern of flowers. Somehow the décor managed to be chintzy and trendy at the same time. Only a particular sort of Witch could carry this off, and she was called Miss Annagramma Hawkin.

The bedroom had formerly belonged to a Witch called Eumenides Treason, who had died aged a hundred and thirteen. It had taken a lot of work for Annagramma to even begin to assert her own personality in here, and this was hampered by the undeniable fact that Miss Treason had been here for over ninety years, which was a lot of time for a witch to stamp her personality on a place. Annagramma had been here for less than twenty. Nanny Ogg, the senior Witch present, reflected that this was still Eumenides' place, may the Gods rest her soul. All that white paint that Annagramma had ferociously applied to the walls when she first moved in, just to colour over the black and make the place look less dingy and more spacious, was losing its war with the black. The black was reasserting itself as the white faded, reappearing in corners and cracks and crevices, the white around it fading to greyish-beige, the colour of old bedlinen.

Nanny speculated that if you gave it another eighty year, as Annagramma grew older, her looks faded and she gave way first to middle age and then to old age, the white would fade completely as the young Witch became an old Hag. The walls would become black again, almost everyone would have forgotten Eumenides Treason, but they would fear and respect a centenarian Miss Annagramma Hawkin.

The cycle of Witchcraft, Nanny thought. It all goes around. How did young Olga Romanoff describe it when she explained how it is in her land? She said the old babby-yarger dies. Then gets replaced by a vassy-lisa. The vassy-lisa grows old. She becomes the babbyarger. Then another vassylisa comes along and replaces her.

She looked down on the still girl in the bed and studied her. She paid half an ear to conversation in the background.

She's alive. Not in distress. But what makes her Apricity Brabble ain't in there. It's somewhere else. But no sign of her dyin' or anything like that. Got the candles burnin' but nobody's in. Hmmm.

"So where will you sleep tonight, if Apricity is in your bed?" Svetlana asked in the background.

"In here, of course. Sitting upright in a chair. Keeping a watch!" Annagramma replied, impatiently.

Nanny grinned.

Good girl deep down, young Annagramma. Girl couldn't help she got the wrong teacher and the wrong guidance. Set her back a few year, did that. Her personality needed workin' on, too. Got her away from Lettice Earwig, she started gettin' the idea.The folk here accept her well enough. Now.

"Nanny, do you know what's happening?" Petulia Gristle asked, in a polite and respectful voice. The old Witch shrugged.

"If it wasn't for tonight bein' an Edge, I'd say she's out Borrowin'." Nanny said. She contemplated her pipe. Annagramma got restive if anyone tried to smoke in her cottage. And Nanny, despite her seniority, was bound to respect the wishes of her hostess Witch. She sighed. She might have to concede, and nip out the door for a few minutes.

"She looks like she's Borrowin'. But she's been talkin' in her sleep and sayin' odd things. Speaking Names. Poweful Names. Earlier on, I got that she somehow got herself in between Winter and Summer. Last time that happened, it caused bother."

"But she didn't join the Dance, like Tiffany did that time." Petulia said. "We just saw the Fertile Feet thing happening, as if she couldn't control it. Things started growing. Around her feet. Then she fell over, and we had to pick her off the ground to stop it happening. The magic might have hurt her otherwise."

Nanny carried on watching the girl in the bed. She was turning thoughts over in her head. Last Summer, she made corn grow all the way from sprouting seeds to full ears ready to reap. In about five minutes flat. She did the same out there just now, only without meanin' to. And why did it get so far and no further? Half-growed? Was it because we picked her up and got her feet off the earth? Broke the link?

"I needs a smoke." Nanny decided. She nodded acknowledgement to Annagramma. "Just poppin' out the door for a few minutes. Keep an eye, and you shouts for me if anythin' happens."

For the next three hours, that was the shape of Nanny Ogg's night.

Pseudopolis Yard, Ankh-Morpork.

Nadezhda landed her broom on the Air Watch landing strip. As Johanna got off the pillion, Nadezhda handed it, without looking, to a Tek. It was clear to people around the Air Station that Mother Hen was fuming. They prudently got out of the way.

Nottie Garlick had prudently commed it over that the juvenile delinquents were in Holding Room Four. Nadezhda led the way there. Air Witches and then Watchmen who could see trouble coming scattered out of the way. It was clear that Sergeant Popova was in a Mood. Even if the red-haired woman walking alongside her remained anonymous – at least to those who didn't recognise her – it was horribly clear she was also in a strop. To those who did recognise Doctor Johanna Smith-Rhodes, that was an extra reason not to hang around.

Nadezhda led them along the plain institutionally decorated corridors of the Yard(11), until they came to the ominously named Interrogation and Holding Suites. As a Watch special, Johanna knew the Holding Suites detained people who while they certainly weren't innocent, the Watch were reluctant to let go of.(12) The halfway houses.

Nadezhda paused at the door. Johanna understood why, They shared the look of beleaguered mothers, or at least of those who have mother-like responsibilities. It was another of those bonding moments.

And they heard familiar voices.

Totally worth it." said Famke Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons.

"You fight well." said Alexandra Mumorovka. "Still not sure if I like you, but perhaps I dislike you less, Red Annoyance."

"Don't think I did that for your sake. I think, if anyone's entitled to call you a cow, it's me. That's my job."

Nadezhda and Johanna shared a resigned look, and walked in. Five girls sat up straight, sensing they were now in real trouble.

Rimwards Howondaland. Dawn.

The sun rose over the Discworld. It did this every morning and was not generally thought of as remarkable. But on this one morning in the year, the rising of the sun was exactly over the furthest tip of Cape Terror, the most Rimwards part of the Howondalandian landmass. The sun would rise above the Disc, at the centre of a moving crescent of growing light. The circle of light would grow and spread over the surface of the Disc, bringing the new day with it.

Here on Cape Terror, Rimwards Howondaland got the new day first. It would be a while before it got to places like Ankh-Morpork and Lancre. But as the new dawn moved, as the crescent of light moved outwards with receding twilight in front, somebody who looked like Apricity Brabble was moving with it, running easily, not tiring, bare feet skipping over the ground.

The seeming-girl in the embarrassingly thin gauzy tunic seemed to know what to do. Periodically she reached int the open bag slung over her left hip and scooped up a handful of what felt like seeds. She scattered the handful of seeds far and wide, to left and to right, as she ran. They glittered as they scattered, the breeze picking some up and wafting them away out of her sight.

And all the time there were pan-pipes, the notes hanging in the air.

The little part of the running seeming-girl that was still Apricity Brabble thought this was annoying, and wished they'd stop.

She sensed she was covering far larger areas of ground than anybody could physically run. She was running with the sun, she realised. If the sun went from rim to rim in a single day, that meant…

A sense of dreamy floating acceptance blotted out the maths.

She ran through the glorious ordered green of vineyards. As she ran, the calyptras turned to her. The tiny green flowers they nurtured, small and inobtrusive, began to open in response to a primordial call. Early-rising bees began to buzz.

The small part of the runner that was Apricity had a sudden clear picture of her friend Rebecka Smith-Rhodes, and knew she was somewhere nearby. Not this time. I will see her again soon. She ran on.

---

Rebecka Smith-Rhodes swum upwards out of sleep, a puzzling dream-memory of her friend, Apricity from Lancre, running in the Vineyard up on the Sandrift hills. She shrugged, reckoning it to be a nonsense dream, as Apricity would never run around dressed like that. Never in a million years. Apricity Brabble preferred to wear more clothes. She yawned and prepared to meet her day. She frowned at the nasal breathy annoying noise of those bloody pan-pipes, a snippet that must have hung over from her dream into waking life. She sighed. You never remembered the good bits.

---

"Is she having a fit, Nanny? She's threshing her legs around."

"No, love. I seen people fittin' out. That ain't a fit. My guess is that wherever she is, she's runnin' or she thinks she's runnin'. It's taking this set of legs a while to realise it's optional, as far as they're concerned…. Ah, it's slowin' down. They're getting' the message they ain't expected to join in."

Nanny relaxed. Then shook her head and said

"I'd be happier if I knew what's goin' on, though."

---

And now the runner is passing through the steaming jungles of the Howondalandian hinterland. Strangely enough her progress is unimpeded. There is always a path. She also discovers her hand comes out of the sack with barely any seeds in it. Most of the handful she tries to bring out trickle through her fingers and back into the bag. The reason forms in her head: the jungle knows no Spring. It needs no prompt to be fertile. It always is. But she still needs to pass through here, just because.

She throws the seed, such as it is, anyway.

"I am Flora." she says. "I am Ostara. I am Vera. I am Eiar. I am Yarila!"

---

"I an Yarila." The girl in the bed said. Nanny Ogg frowned. Ludmilla, one of the Rodinian girls, made a gap of recognition. Nanny turned and looked sharply at her.

"Out with it, girl!" she commanded.

Ludmilla shuffled.

"To our people, Babiushka Ogg, Yarilia is a Goddess. The goddess of Spring."

Nanny Ogg grinned. Her grin went on for a long time.

"i am Persephone." Apricity said, in the eerie flat voie of one talking in her sleep.

---

The runner passed through the blinding deserts of the Great Nef and into the lesser desert of Rimwards Klatch. Even here there were seeds to scatter. Not many, but still seeds. And the annoying panpipes still followed.(13) Apricity, or the part of the runner that was Apricity, was learning to hate them.

Moving with the sun onto the more settled agricultural parts of Klatch, Cenotia and Djelibeybi, the land became greener and the seeds became generous handfuls again.

In Djelibeybi she felt something change and her vision blurred slightly. She saw the world through different eyes and her head felt strange.

"I am Renphet." she croaked. She tried to resist the urge to flick out her tongue to catch insects. (14) Nearby, the mighty River Djel followed its annual imperative to go into Inundation.

When she passed over the Circle Sea, she suddenly became normally human again. Even here she had seed to cast. She shrugged. There was still life down there. New life needed seeds. Everywhere.

---

In Ankh-Morpork, Doctor Davinia Bellamy, principal tutor in Botany at the Assassins' Guild School, had got up early to tend to her greenhouses. She reckoned she could put in an hour before going to work.

She frowned at the sight of the slightly bult girl in the thin shift who ran across her lawn and wondered how the girl had got there. Her garden was well defended against intrusion. She saw, or glimpsed, the girl scattering what looked like seeds from a bag. Excited birds seemed to be following her, almost as if they wanted to provide an escort.

Davinia frowned. As she went to challenge the girl, she noted two odd things. Every flower in the greenhouse had opened. And they all seemed to be following the girl. And weren't those flowers sprouting up under her feet as she ran? They hadn't been there before. And nothing grew from seed to flowering maturity in two or three seconds. Nothing.

By the time she had left the greenhouse and gone into the garden, the girl was nowhere to be seen. But there was a double trail of wildflowers, right across the lawn. She realised some of them were ones that didn't normally grow in Ankh-Morpork.

Davinia frowned. She had no magic. But she was a botanist. She'd read the folklore. She reasoned that a lot of it might be disguised or distorted truth concerning growing things, leading her to read deeply and wdely. And she remembered – she thought it was in Chaffinch's Mythology – that the elemental personification of Spring was only fleetingly seen on the Discworld. But those who saw Her were usually the most gifted gardeners and people of the earth, who were privileged with the merest once-in-a-lifetime glimpse.

Feeling oddly bucked up, Davinia decided to let the wildflowers remain in her lawn. For now. She could catalogue them later.

---

And the Elemental Personification of Spring reached Lancre, her home…

"Yes?" Annagramma Hawkin, Witch, said as she replied to the knock on the door. She was short of sleep and worried for Apricity.

Regard Annagramma. In her early thirties now, she is still tall, still authoritarian, still stylish in her dress sense, still attractive to a certain kind of man. Nearly two decades as a Steading Witch have matured her. Against expectations, she has grown to be quite good at it.

But she still doesn't take idiots gladly.

Rishton Threlfall, the local dairy farmer and milkman, swallowed.

"Brung your milk, Miss Hawkin." he said. "And the cheese. And the butter. And the yoghurt. Errr…"

Annagramma glared, then decided it was good manners to thank him.

"Why knock?" she asked. "You usually just leave it on the step."

Rishton Threlfall swallowed again.

"Miss Brabble, miss. Err. She got took strange at the Springbringing Dance last night. Err. Just seen her running across Top Field with only a shift on and no boots. This weird music goin' on…"

"She's upstairs, in bed!" Annagramma burst out. "We bought her back here unconscious. That's impos…"

She checked herself.

"Thank you for telling me, Mr Threlfall. I appreciate that."

She paused.

"While you're here, bring all this into the kitchen for me? Thank you."

---

Nanny Ogg wasn't surprised to hear this.

She grinned at the younger witches.

"Reckon I worked it out now." she said. "Young Apricity has got an inquiring mind. She wondered where Spring and Autumn fit into the big scheme of things. Spring being the time you plant seeds and Autumn being the time you reap. She works it out how to do the Fertile Feet thing. So of course the big players notice. The Wintersmith and the Summer Lady."

Nanny grinned.

"Spring tells everything it's time to start growin'. It tells the birds it's the time to start buildin' nests."

She built up to the big one.

"She been Avatared. And if the birds is about to start buildin' nests and makin' eggs, then she's been avatarred and feathered."

There was the obligatory groan.

---

The elemental Personification of Spring came to the end of her run at Cori Celesti. suddenly, in the lee of the mountain, she ran into a barrier, the air thickening about her, tlll she could run no more.

This is where it ends, cereal girl. You have done well.

Apricity recognised the voice of the Summer Lady.

"I don't get to see the other side of Cori Celesti?" she asked. "I don't get to go to Agatea?"

She felt dissapointed. She'd never been out of Lancre in her life. Now she'd glimpsed a world. She wanted to see more.

Why should you? They are in the Summer Quarter, or were. Last night they moved into the Autumn Quarter. Just as the Winter Quarter, as was, moved into the Spring Quarter last night. Your duty is done. We thank you.

Apricity felt the seed-bag disappear from her shoulder.

She heard the voice of the Summer Lady in her mind as the world shifted…

See you again in six months.

She awoke in a bed, Apricity Brabble again.

"Is there anything to eat and drink, Nanny? I'm really hungry." she said.

Nanny Ogg grinned at her.

"You can tell me all about it as you eat, girl." she said. "Glad to get you back."

---

And that's it for this extra-length episode.

Next: the outcome of the New Gang's first fight. More from Howondaland.

---

(1) Ruth had been offered honorary membership of the Clockmakers' Guild. Johanna and Ponder had blocked this, knowing something about the general sanity and mental stability of clockmakers. Diplomatically, they'd cited her age as the reason. The Artificers had said she needed to serve a recognised apprenticeship first. Johanna had said she understood this, and by the way, Sir Richard Simnel. Is still not a member of your Guild? Nor Leonard of Quirm?

(2) Kiiki Pekkisaalen had also run into other problems, like running out of breathable air and the distinct possibility her culture's Sky Goddess was watching and raising a divine eyebrow at the presumptions of mortals. Although Kiiki did wonder if the Sky Goddess might have been a hallucination induced by the regrettable shortage of air, which was having an effect on her system much like that you get from ingesting the necessary infusions for a stroll on the low road of Tuonela. Kiiki had grinned and said "Hey, shaman stuff! I can do that while I'm flying. Freaky trip!" Olga had heard High altitude flying. Lack of oxygen. Bristles icing up. And she'd put a brake on this for safety reasons until the Tek issues could be worked out. The God issues, she suspected, might take longer. Kiiki now held two records. Highest Witch- flight ever at fifteen angels. And, Olga reflected, grimly, that business with flying at minus five angels, achieved by joy-riding in a Dwarf mine. Dealing with the Dwarves afterwards had taken some diplomacy.

(3) Olga had wanted information about specific aspects of looking after a Pegasus. She knew this wasn't likely to be found in generally available equestrian texts. She had arrived at Unseen University Library with a gift of bananas and explained her need. One of the Ook!'s had conveyed You're a senior Witch. There's no reason why you shouldn't have readers' tickets. She had then been found everything the University Library knew about the Pegasus. The information had been most helpful.

(4) go to the tale Hyperemesis Gravidarum.

(5) Still a grievance in modern South Africa. The ANC government says it's onto the problem and will do something about it soon. Or just now.

(6) to my story Hyperemesis Gravidarum.

(7) to my tale Bungle in the Jungle.

(8) For completion, this is in Strandpiel Book One.

(9) Did I mention South African roads?

(10) Referred to as Peppermint Fancy in Air Watch comms.

(11) Cabbage green from floor to halfway up. Then after a thin black dividing stripe, it was a mummy-bandage beige to the ceiling. And the all-pervading smell of bleach.

(12) Johanna knew this was a thing. Her sister Mariella had been in "administrative detention" once.(12a) It meant "sit here and be quiet until we find something to charge you with."

(12a) Now go to my tale Gap Year Adventures. In whch Rivka ends up in an actual prison and Mariella kicks her heels in the waiting room.

(13) A person with more knowledge of music than Apricity Brabble might have recognised the Scaramouche Fandango. Because any music played during a long journey always mutates into the Scarmouche Fandango, given enough time. Or into Wotua Doinov's aria "Another One Bites The Dust", which the panpipes had played while she was scattering seeds in the desert.

(14) Renphet was the Egyptian goddess of Spring. She is sometimes depicted as a woman with the head of a frog.

Notes Dump:

Ideas about anthropomorphic personifications. Lifted from Wikipedia, so if I haven't edited them all out, ignore their footnotes.

Spring:-

Brigid, Celtic Goddess of Fire, the Home, poetry and the end of winter. Her festival, Imbolc, is on 1st or 2nd of February which marks "the return of the light".

Ēostre or Ostara, the goddess of spring

Many fertility deities are also associated with spring

In Roman mythology, Flora was a Sabine-derived goddess of flowers and of the season of spring

Ver, the Roman personification of spring.

Jarylo (Cyrillic: Ярило or Ярила; Polish: Jaryło; Croatian: Jura or Juraj; Serbian: Jarilo; Slavic: Jarovit), alternatively Yarylo, Iarilo, or Gerovit, is a Slavic god of vegetation, fertility and springtime

The ancient Greek goddess Persephone represents spring growth.

Eiar, a hora of spring, classic ancient Greece.

The great Spring God (春大神), of Ba Jia Jiang (The Eight Generals), originated from the Chinese folk beliefs and myths

Morityema the god of spring & the West Mountain in Native American mythology.

Summer

Áine, Irish goddess of love, summer, wealth and sovereignty, associated with the sun and midsummer

Theros, a hora of summer, classic ancient Greece

Aestas, the Roman personification of summer.

Damia, a hora of summer, early ancient Greece

the Great Summer God (夏大神), of Ba Jia Jiang (The Eight Generals), originated from the Chinese folk beliefs and myths

Freyr, Norse god of summer, sunlight, life and rain

Hine-Raumati, Personification of the summer from Māori mythology

Miochin the god of summer & the South Mountain in Native American Mythology

---

Also an orphaned scrap of dialogue, a wild crossover idea, that popped into my head out of nowhere. What if the Tardis landed in the Discworld. And by a series of misadventures, a Witch ended up as companion…imagining William Hartnell. The first Doctor, circa 1964.

"I must say, young lady, you're exceptionally bright, for a girl."

The red-haired girl folded her arms and glared at him.

"Don't you DARE patronise me, Doctor Whoever-You-Are!"

The only other thought on this might be an Igor noting the presence of two hearts, and saying thith ith thomething we have in common….