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Chapter XXXIV
Harry's plan had been perfect from the moment he'd formed it. The forming itself had taken about ten seconds and he was hoping to bring in the implementation phase in in under half that time. A tiny, helpless girl protected by an almost equally tiny Watchman who couldn't be farther away from being helpless even if they'd chained her up, tied her in a sack and chucked her in the Ankh. Vetinari had thought it was a good idea, Commander Carrot had thought it was a good idea and, most tellingly of all, even Sally had thought it was a good idea, and approval in that quarter was hard-won indeed. It had never occurred to him that Lucy might not think it was a good idea too.
"I don't think that's a good idea, sir," she said when he'd outlined The Plan, as he'd now taken to capitalising it.
"And why would that be, Acting Constable?" he asked, emphasising as he did so that this was not going to be a conversation between equals.
"I'm not good with children," she said, simply. He waited, waited a bit longer, and then arched an eyebrow in a way that only a vampire can, and only another vampire can full appreciate.
"Sorry. I'm not good with children, sir" she corrected herself. This was clearly something they were going to have to work on. Taking orders was not something that came naturally to vampires. Giving, on the other hand…
Now, the extent to which Lucy could be said to have been 'good with people' was up for debate: she was certainly good at enticing them into her lair, but it would be difficult to argue that what happened to them there could be described as 'good for them'.
"I'm afraid that in this job you are going to have to get used to dealing with people, Acting Constable," nothing wrong with over-emphasis.
"Oh, I appreciate that, sir" Lucy affirmed, "however I think it best that I be kept away from children."
Harry wasn't aware that in her long history she'd treated children any better or worse than she'd treated anyone else, unless she was doing that weird thing of treating children as if they were 'different'. To Harry's mind children were just people: generally smaller, though not always, generally, though not always, more ignorant, but on the whole no different from any other people. There were good ones and bad ones, interesting ones and dull ones, beautiful ones and ugly ones… but they were all still people. Harry realised that he might be prejudiced on this subject: vampire children could read and write by the time of their first birthday, construct detailed arguments by two and rip a human's head off before they were three; it was hard to view them as being different from adults. It wasn't the same for other races and species, though. For humans, for example, children could be any one of three things: incapable of doing anything wrong, incapable of doing anything right or a complete mystery; in any case, not normal. Harry was having none of it:
"It's an order, Acting Constable."
"In that case, yes sir, of course, sir," said Lucy jumping to attention and saluting.
You've just got to love the chain-of-command, thought Harry.
And so it was agreed, as Lucy never needed sleep she would protect the little girl twenty-two hours a day, eight days a week. It was also good, thought Harry –with an eye to his budget- that Lucy wouldn't need a uniform, what with her being under the bed and all. He knew it was good that The Watch now had more volunteers that it had stuff for them to wear, but a Watchman out of uniform annoyed his vampirish needed for neatness1 unless, as in this case, the Watchman was under the bed. So, now all that remained was to convince the Seamstresses that this was good idea also. Oh, and find out what the child was called, he supposed.
"Right then," he said, "let's go."
"Yes, sir," said Lucy, saluting with rather more sass than Harry really cared for.
When they arrived at the mansion in Apothecary Gardens he was surprised that there was no guard on the gate; there were a great many nasty men who didn't like Seamstresses after all –for a number of different reasons. Still, the reputation of the Agony Aunts should have been enough to discourage anyone who was even on nodding acquaintance with sanity, and they knew their own business, after all.
He noticed the women in the grounds –both old and young- who were enjoying the sunshine and marvelled at the wealth of the Guild. The Seamstresses took care of their members in a way that made those of other guilds very envious but it could only do it because it was rich. A lot of the money came from ladies who had become courtesans to kings, but remembered their roots. More still had come from ladies who, through their acting and dancing, had acquired rich –often elderly- husbands and, upon their demise, rather large fortunes. They too had not forgotten their roots. But most of the guild's money came from ordinary members who made contributions in their own self-interest.
There had once been people called wimps who would take most, if not all, of a seamstress's income under the pretence of offering them protection. When the Agony Aunts began to give them protection –especially from wimps- for nothing at all many of them had decided to invest some of their now spare income in a pension plan, the Guild. Some of them simply gave money to the Guild because they were used to giving their hard money away to someone who hadn't earned it. They were often amazed that they actually got something in return.
They were met at the door by a slender young woman. She couldn't have weighed very much but Harry and Lucy's expert eyes could tell that she could punch at least three or four times above her weight. An Agony Aunt in training, they both assumed.
"Good afternoon, isn't it?" said the Agony Neice, "my name's Aderyn."
Harry thought about this for a second.
"Yes, I suppose it is a good afternoon, isn't it?"
"Look you, we'll have none of that," Aderyn admonished, "have you got an appointment?"
"Yes," said Harry, "at one o'clock, with Madame Fifi."
"Ah, you'll be the people from The Watch then, isn't it?"
Harry was about to reply sarkilly when Lucy pinched him, insubordinately. Hubber Bears could chew granite; it was said that there were luminous sea-creatures at the bottom of the Rim Ocean that could bite through steel, but nothing could pinch like a vampire.
"YESS!" he managed.
"Good, then follow me."
She led them through long wide corridors and large, airy rooms that were strangely cool, given how hot it was outside.
"Something dwarfish do you think?" Harry asked Lucy.
"More like my friend Leonardo, I would have thought," she replied.
Leonardo of Quirm had once been Architect and Artificer in Chief to Lucy's father, the Duke, before Vetinari had managed to get his hands on him.
"It's both, actually," Aderyn clarified, "there's clever, isn't it?"
The vampires both agreed that there, indeed, was clever.
Eventually they arrived at Madame Fifi's office and, after a knock, were admitted into her presence. Harry, and especially Lucy, were used to grand ladies and were not easily impressed but Madame Fifi was very impressive. Harry thought her makeup was so expertly applied that it completely hid how old she was. Lucy, more astutely, could see that the makeup actually made her look older than she would have appeared without it, because she thought she recognised her, and from a very, very long time ago. She curtsied, which Harry thought rather suspicious. He'd bowed, of course, but female vampires didn't often curtsy. He'd only ever seen Sally curtsy twice: to Vimes –and that had been a bit of a joke, even though he was a duke- and to Vetinari. He was going to have to ask about this. In the meantime there was the lady in question herself. On either side of her stood two women who were quite obviously Agony Aunts, and certainly no longer trainees. One was very large and the other very small but, to the expert eye, it was clear that both were equally dangerous. Of course either Harry or Lucy could have taken both of them, but it wouldn't have been easy. In any case, the most dangerous of the three was the one sitting between them. In fact she was probably the most dangerous person in the room.
"Bonjour, mes jeunes," said Madame Fifi, "you are the officers of the leur, non?"
There was no way on the Disc either of them was buying that accent but their rigid self-control meant neither of them laughed out loud.
"That's correct, ma'am," said Harry
"And you 'ave come to protect la petite fille?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied.
"Bon. But first I wish you to meet two ozer young ladies, Aderyn!"
"Yes, madame?"
"Fetch les sorcières."
"Yes madame," she replied and went to find Tiffany and Agnes.
All morning, while Moo played in the gardens, under guard, they had been in their room trying to decide what their next move should be, to no great purpose.
"So what should our next move be?" Agnes had asked.
"I've no idea," Tiffany had replied, "I'm surprised we got this far."
"Oh, nothing like a positive attitude, is there?" Agnes had snorted.
"I have nothing like a positive attitude," Tiffany had affirmed.
"I'd noticed."
In the end they'd decided that what they lacked more than anything was information and therefore, while Moo could safely be left in the care of the guild, they were going to take to the streets, as it were, and find out what was really happening.
"By the way, I have a friend in The Watch," Agnes offered.
"Really," said Tiffany, "you've never mentioned that."
"Well, he's more a friend of a friend," Agnes admitted.
"Which friend?" Tiffany wanted to know.
"Damn," said Agnes.
"Have you forgotten something?"
"No, I mean the Omnian missionary that I've become friendly with," she clarified.
"A bit too friendly some would say."
"Oh would they, indeed!?" snarled Agnes, signalling to her high horse that she needed to mount.
"Not me, of course!" Tiffany wanted to clarify, holding her hands up in front of her.
"I should hope not!" Agnes snarled. "His full name is Damn the Infidel If He Knows not Forgiveness."
"They really have a way with words, don't they?" observed Tiffany.
"Anyway, he said he had a friend in The Watch called Smite and he'd let him know I was coming. Maybe I should speak to him first; he should know what's going on, after all."
"Good idea," Tiffany agreed, "then we can…"
Just then Aderyn arrived with what she believed was bad news.
"The mistress wants to see you," she announced.
"Oh, good," they agreed, now that they had at least the beginnings of a plan.
"But she's got some Watchmen with her," she warned them.
"Oh, good," they chorused, which made her look rather unhappy.
Aderyn was a Novice and therefore not fully aware of the nature of the relationship between the Seamstresses and The Watch. Sure, citizens could sometimes be swept away by moral panics about all the shamelessness on the streets and they'd then complain about it to The Watch, who'd ignore them. Of course this wasn't what The Watch pretended it was doing and it had got so good at pretending that a great many people were taken in by it, including Aderyn, it appeared. In fact seamstresses and Watchmen got on rather well; a bit too well, some nurses thought.
In Madame Fifi's office everyone was cordially introduced and there were smiles and handshakes and a bit of curtseying. Everything was terribly friendly. Meanwhile all that was going on inside the witches' heads was:
"THEY'RE VAMPIRES, THEY'RE VAMPIRES, THEY'RE VAMPIRES! CAN'T YOU SEE THEY'RE VAMPIRES!?"
Lucy was the only one who noticed their carefully concealed discomfort.
"Oh, we're vampires, by the way" she said, "but good vampires."
"Aye," snarled Janet, possibly in agreement, "good yins."
"Zere are good and bad in effreyone," chuckled Madame Fifi, "even seamstresses and ouitches."
Neither of the ouitches was entirely convinced but they also thought that if there really was such a thing as a good vampire then there was no one you'd rather have protecting you.
"Is there an officer in The Watch called Smite?" Agnes asked to break the tension.
"There is indeed," said Harry, "a very fine officer. Currently in hospital."
"Oh, gods, what happened?" gasped Agnes.
"It's alright," Harry reassured her, "he's recovering well, but he was badly injured in the last trouble, which is what we need to protect the little girl from."
"Perhaps we should ask Moo what she thinks," Tiffany suggested.
"Good idea," said Madame Fifi, "a lady always likes to be asked. Ouere is la petite?"
"She's with Blodwyn," said Agnes.
"And where is Blodwyn?" asked Madame Fifi.
"She's on gate duty," said Aderyn.
"Er, there's no one on the gate," said Harry.
There was a brief silence, then a look flashed around the room, Tiffany went white and Agnes fainted.
1 So much so that he had begun buying uniforms out of his own pocket, even though it was better to buy them out of a tailor's shop.