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Chapter XLII
Moo's hospital room was rather crowded as in addition to Dr. Igor, the toxicologist, and Nurse Shame, there were also Tiffany and Agnes and a rather agitated Harry.
"Don't you know how to treat her?" he demanded, "I thought you were a doctor."
"It'th not that thimple," said the doctor, "before we can treat her we have to know what drug thee was given."
"Can't you tell that from the way she looks?" Harry asked, "I thought you people could do that."
"We people," said Dr. Igor in a sarky voice "can indeed often diagnoath conditionth from vithible thymtomth, but in thith cayth it could be one of a number of agentth: lignum vermem, noctith umbra or even one of the tenebrith family."
"It's reptilia tenebras," said Tiffany, firmly.
"Oh, where did you get that," scoffed Harry, "from your sixth sense?"
"My sixth sense is balance," said Tiffany, coldly, "my seventh is my ability to feel pain, my eighth is my skin's being able to detect heat, my ninth…"
"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," said Harry, apologising, sort of.
"Are you thure?" asked Dr. Igor.
"Yes," she said, wishing she were really as sure as she sounded.
"Then I thall begin treatment."
"I can help with making the potion," Agnes offered.
"That would be motht welcome," said Igor.
While the doctor and the witch departed for the crucibles, and leaving the nurse to attend to Moo, Harry beckoned Tiffany outside and, with a nod to Lance Constable Smeltersson on the door, drew her aside.
"I really am sorry," he said and Tiffany thought that this time he did sound genuinely contrite, "I'm just a bit, you know…"
"Yes," agreed Tiffany, "I'm a bit you know myself at the moment, I forgive you."
"Thank you," he said with a nod. "Now, I'm organising a bit of a crisis meeting to deal with the current problems and I wondered if you would come along. You're the little girl's guardian, after all, and we all know how important she is."
"Do we?" asked Tiffany.
"Do we, what?" wondered Harry.
"Know how important she is."
"Well, no, I suppose not," he admitted, "but we do know that she is important."
"Which is why I want to stay with her; you know what happened the last time I let her out of my sight."
"I understand," said Harry "but this place is rather more secure than the Guild House: I've got a troll on every outside door and dwarf on every inside one; I've got gargoyles on the roofs, dwarfs, zombies and bogeymen in the cellars and at night I'll have a bat on every window."1
Tiffany noticed that there weren't any humans involved, but that was probably because anti-Omiteism seemed to be a solely human preoccupation.
"It does sound safe," she admitted, "but…"
"It won't take long," he assured her.
"It's a long way from here to Pseudopolis Yard," she pointed out.
"No, no," he said, "we've opened another Watch House just to serve the Egitto. It's on Clay Lane, just down the road."
"Oh, alright," she agreed, "but I'd better be back before Moo wakes up."
"You'll be within shouting distance all the time."
She stayed with Moo until the doctor had administered the first dose of claritas2 and saw that it began to have the hoped for effect almost immediately –she'd been sure all along, of course- then she left Agnes in charge and accompanied Captain Mudd on the short walk to Clay Lane.
Short though it was, it was still very unpleasant. She and Agnes had been inside for most of the last couple of days shooing away flies and the hospital also had brand new Leonardo devices called Vorticosas3 that kept the whole place cool, so maybe she'd just forgotten how hot, muggy and fly-blown the outside was, but she didn't think so. It was getting worse, everything was getting worse; especially the volume of ill-will that was now making the air almost thrum.
The Clay Lane Watch House was fairly basic but it did have the standard dwarfish desk-sergeant. Sergeant Grindersson nodded them through4 and they were soon in the meeting room. Captain Stronginthearm was already there with Sergeant von Humpeding to represent the Night Watch, as Sergeant Kubwa was there to represent the Day Watch with Captain Mudd. Kate was there with Patrick from the Secret Service plus there was Honeysuckle5 and Lucy, to tell their stories of Bothermore Hall, and presiding over everything was Commander Carrot. The press had been admitted too, albeit reluctantly, and Sacharissa was sitting, or rather fidgeting, quietly in a corner with her notebook. Quietly didn't come easily to her. As Sally had explained it to Carrot: "Honeysuckle will just tell her everything anyway, so why not?"
They began by listening to Honeysuckle's account of what she'd overheard at the two meetings. Of course, thanks to The Guardian, they all already knew most of what had gone on at the first one, but they thought it best to hear it from Honeysuckle herself, and not just out of politeness; they might have missed something. They hadn't, and it was the second meeting they really wanted to know about.
"They definitely said that Moo was staying at the Guild of Seamstresses?" asked Harry.
"That's what Lord Marbury said," she confirmed, "and Lord Bothermore said they had an agent inside the Guild."
"Her name's Blodwyn," Tiffany offered, "and she's disappered."
"Sounds very suspicious," said Carrot, with studied understatement, "and this He that Lord Marbury spoke of, do you know whom he meant?"
"No, sir," said Honeysuckle, "but he was very clear that Moo shouldn't be in Ankh-Morpork when He arrived."
"Does anyone else have any ideas?" asked Carrot, throwing it open to the room but they all shrugged, except Lucy, in the corner, who began to recite:
Il signore delle mosche,
Principe senza pietà
Padre delle bugie.
Sovrano del Mondo
Maestro dell'oscurità
Maestro di tutti.
"What's that?" Kate whispered to Patrick.
"It's a nursery-rhyme," he said under his breath. He'd always come top of the class in Ancient History.
"That's Quirmian, isn't it?" said Carrot, "What does it mean?"
"Lord of the flies, prince without pity," said Sally.
"Father of lies, king of the world," Harry continued.
"Master of darkness, master of all," Lucy finished.
The three vampires had been familiar with it all their long lives.
"Tough nursery," said Kate said to Patrick.
"Tell me about," he agreed, rolling his eyes
For a moment there was just an awkward silence as no one in the room seemed sure what to think, let alone say. In the end it was Stronginthearm who spoke:
"Are you talking about The Mørke!?" he asked, incredulously.
This caused a collective gasp. They might not all have recognised the rhyme, but they all recognised the name. All except Sacharissa and Honeysuckle, that is.
"Who's The Mørke?" asked Sacharissa.
"He's The Devil," said Kubwa, simply.
The Discworld didn't really have a "Devil". Oh, it had gods, lots of them6 and demons, some of whom were nice enough blokes. There were also some very nasty beings in the Dungeon Dimensions, but there was no mysterious personification of all evil, not even in any of the madder relgions, and some of them were absolutely bonkers. No, The Mørke was the closest that it got, and no one doubted that He existed, or at least had existed.
Actually, both Kubwa and Patrick knew rather more than the others about this. Kubwa had grown-up on the banks of the Z'boozi River near the ruins of the ancient city of Uovu, which was the source of the most ancient texts of all, older even than those from Djelibeybi. According to the wise men and the scholars the Vitabu Vidogo –the black books- told of a time before history itself, the Time of Adro, the Evil One who had existed before anything else was made. Patrick had studied in the stacks of the Great Library and in the cellars of the Museum and he knew from his studies that when He had tried to conquer the heavens The Mørke had claimed to be doing it in the name of Adro.
"Are you seriously suggesting that The Mørke still exists!?" Stronginthearm demanded. Lucy nodded.
"I don't believe it," he snorted.
"Yes, you do," said Carrot, matter-of-factly, dwarf to drawf, "and so does everyone else."
The rest of them nodded their agreement and the dwarf's shoulders sagged.
"So what are we going to do about it?" he asked.
Carrot looked to Harry.
"I think the little girl is still the key," said Harry, "and clearly Marbury did too."
"Agreed," said Carrot, "is she secure?"
"Completely, sir," Harry assured him, "I guarantee she won't go missing again."7
"Good," said Carrot and turned his attention to Tiffany.
"Do we know yet how the little witch might be able to stop the thing?"
"No, sir," said Tiffany, "but she may be our only hope."
"Very well," he said "stay with her at all times, let me know when she wakes and tell me as soon as you find out anything more."
"Yes, sir, I shall, sir," said Tiffany.
Now it was Lucy's turn to be questioned:
"The Mørke isn't here yet, is it?"
"No, sir," she replied.
"How long before it arrives?"
"A few days, perhaps" she said, "possibly a week."
With a deep sigh he finally turned to the Secret Service.
"Do we have that long?" he asked Kate and Patrick.
"No, sir," said Kate, "a day or two, three at most, and this whole pressure cooker is going to explode. A half-dozen Black Crossers attacked Lance Constable Marble in the Egitto yesterday."
"Good gods!" exclaimed Carrot, "are they still alive?"
"More or less," said Kate, "though they all refused to be taken to Morpork Mercy because it's staffed by Omnian nurses."
As if any more evidence were required to prove that they were unhinged, thought Sally.
Carrot was silent for a moment.
"Very well," he said at last, "Patrick, would you escort Tiffany back to the hospital?"
"Yes, sir," said Patrick.
"Kate, would you make sure the girls get home safely?"
"Yes, sir," said Kate.
"Miss Cripslock, can I trust to not to print the details of this meeting in your newspaper?"
"Would you believe me if I said yes?" asked Sacharissa, coyly, head bowed, looking at him through her eyelashes.
"Frankly, no," said Carrot.
"In that case I can wholeheartedly say yes."
"Just as I thought," said Carrot, "then this meeting is over. Watch personnel stay behind, we have strategy to discuss."
Patrick had walked Tiffany back to Morpork Mercy and then hung around for a bit in the hope of seeing Blister but she'd been far too busy in Injury and Urgency, which barely had the staff, let alone the beds, to cope with the number of cases it was now getting every day. When he left Moo still wasn't awake, but was looking a lot better. If an Igor couldn't fix it then it couldn't be fixed.
He made his way back to the Duck to find it closed and deserted. Kate had decided to shut the place for a while as most of her customers were now in The Watch, either full-time or as volunteers, and were all far too tired at the end of each shift for anything but sleep. Even eating was a chore, let alone quaffing. Anyone who wasn't in The Watch wasn't welcome on the premises.
He was happy to have the place just to himself for a little while anyway as he really needed a drink.
Kate took Sacharissa and Honeysuckle back to Honeysuckle's mum's house. Honeysuckle's younger sister, Belladonna had moved out of Honeysuckle's old room and back in with Kniphofia, the youngest sister, so that Honeysuckle and Sacharissa could have a room to share.8 Everyone, even the two young sisters, thought this was a good arrangement; these were dangerous time, after all, and there was safety in numbers. Harry had actually asked Lucy to keep a watch on the house, but Lucy had informed him that Honeysuckle's friend Susan was already doing that, so he'd decided it really wasn't necessary. Susan Sto Helit was Death's granddaughter, and if you weren't safe on her watch then you weren't safe anywhere.
She'd stayed for a little while, met Honeysuckle's mum, who was lovely, and her two sisters, who were also lovely, if a bit grumpy and sulky –though not about having to share a room. Mrs Hoppkins liked to burn various essential oils which for some reason the flies really didn't like, even though they smelled lovely, and made you slightly dizzy. This made the whole house rather lovely, if slightly cramped, so she'd stayed for some of Honeysuckle's mum's tea, which was absolutely lovely.
When she'd left the house she'd felt so fluffy that it was almost as if she was floating on air and had hardly noticed the flies, the heat or, indeed, anything else, while she glided her way back to the Duck. As she wafted through the door she saw Patrick standing at the bar.
"Greetings, boss," he said, raising his glass.
"Greetings, underling," she replied, waving her hand as if she were a queen.
"Will, ye jine me in a wee dram?" he asked. "It's the best Glen Òrain."
Kate's head suddenly felt cleared by the thought of Patrick's downing her ridiculously expensive whisky.
"Am I buying or are you?" she asked, nervously.
"My treat," he laughed.
"In that case," she said, hugely relieved, "I'll tak a huge dram, if I may; I've always wondered what it tasted like."
The bottle was sitting in a bucket of hot water and when he took the top off to pour her a glass it felt as though the whole room were filled with its aroma, and it tasted wonderful.
"If I got a liking for this," she said, slightly breathless, "I'd be destitute in a week."
"Fear not, fair lady," laughed Patrick, taking out a huge wad of dollars and handing it over, "payment in full and worth every penny."
She wanted to tuck it between her bosoms but it was just too big, ample though she was, it had to go in the safe.
"I'd also like you to look after this," he said, handing over an envelope.
"Ooooo, what now?" she giggled, this really was marvellous stuff; she hadn't giggled in more years than she was prepared to admit to being old.
"It's my will," he said.
Kate felt suddenly sober: "A simple precaution, I assume?"
"Naturally," he replied, but he didn't sound terribly convincing.
"There's more to it, isn't there?" she asked, though she very much hoped there wasn't.
"Call it a premonition, if you will," he said with a shrug.
"Have you ever had a premonition before?"
"Oh, many of them," said Patrick.
"And did they all come true?" She wasn't sure she really wanted the answer to that.
"No," he said simply
"There you are then," said Kate, "could mean nothing."
"Indeed," Patrick agreed, with a smile, "Slàinte!"
Kate raised he glass and they clinked and drank. It wasn't quite the potion of perfection that it had been a few moments before, but it was still damn good stuff.
"I'd better put this away," she said, holding up the envelope.
"Absolutely," he agreed.
She went around the bar, flipped up the trapdoor and climbed down the ladder to where she kept the safe.
"You're well provided for in it," he called down after her.
"Glad to hear it," she shouted back.
"And Bruise and Sheara too."
"Let me say 'cheers, mate' on their behalf," laughed Kate, re-emerging from the hole.
"And my friend Smite, of course," he continued.
"Of course," Kate agreed.
"And the Sisters of Kindness…"
"But the bulk of it goes to Bliss, right?"
"Yes," he agreed, "for a dowry."
"Hold on a minute," said Kate, slightly perplexed, "you're leaving most of your no doubt considerable wealth to the love of your life so that she can buy a husband!?"
"Well my wealth will be of no use to me when I'm dead, nor will her pining for me. I won't even know about it.9"
"So she should just move on and forget you ever existed, is that it?"
"There's a sonnet by Sleaghcrith, you may have heard it; it ends like this:
Then do not let your tears recall this place,
Remember me to no one in your prayers,
But rise again and from these ashes fly,
Live always as though you will never die.
And look to some new to ease your cares,
And laugh and drink the wine and then to bed
And do not love me after I am dead.
"I remember it from school," said Kate, "I never liked it."
"Well, I did," he said and raised his glass. "Gaudeamus igitur juvenes dum sumus."
"Bibe et suaviter tibi sit, cras enim moriemur," she replied and they clinked glasses for the last time.
The bottle was empty.
1 Sally, Lucy and Vlad were going to be finding themselves a bit stretched.
2 The generally accepted remedy for tenebris-poisoning.
3 A gift from the Patrician.
4 As Grindersson didn't have any bows in his beard Tiffany assumed he was a he. Mind you, things were becoming very fluid these days.
5 Sacharissa now insisted upon it as she said that they needed to leave Katy Hoppkins in the wastepaper basket of history, and Honeysuckle herself was happy do as her girlfriend said.
6 Some were good and some were bad, though most of them were largely indifferent, to most things.
7 He was completely wrong about this.
8 Just as friends, you understand.
9 All Assassins were required to be atheists. They didn't even believe in the gods that they knew existed.