Page 9 of 9
Chapter XXIII
William knocked at the door of the house on Treacle Mine Road that Lord Vetinari had told him about. It was opened by a dwarf with braids in his beard –which meant it was, most probably, her beard- who led him down several flights of dark stairs to a sub-sub-sub-basement. Waiting for him was a splendid, portly dwarf whose beard came all the way down to his knees. And they were definitely his knees. William couldn't have said exactly what it was, but there was something about the eyes that said male, or maybe it was the lips. Whatever it was he was pretty sure he could tell male and female dwarfs apart, most of the time.
"Lars Larssonson," said Portly, smiling and extending his hand.
"It's an honour to meet you Mr. Larssonson," said William, shaking his hand.
"Oh, Lars, please. Actually, my friends call me Doc."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do they call you Doc?"
"No idea," laughed Lars, "it's not as if I'm a doctor or anything. Anyway, the honour is all mine, Mr. de Worde."
"Oh, William, please, sir."
"Very well, William," said Doc, "welcome to your new home, come."
While Grumpy departed back up the stairs Doc led William into a large, well-lit room –a combination of candles and wurms. The lighting was largely for Williams benefit as dwarfs were used to, and actually preferred, the dark.
"This is your workshop," said Doc.
In the middle of the room was a huge, beautiful, brand-new printing press, so clean that it looked as though it had never been used. To its right was a large bench containing several printing blocks and lots and lots and lots of little boxes containing metal letters. Under the bench were buckets of ink. To the left of the press were stacked bales of paper, enough for gods knew how many editions. It was magnificent.
"It's magnificent!" said William
"It's the least I could do," said Doc "I was an avid reader and great admirer of The Times. I hope your new title will be equally good."
"I hope so too," agreed William.
"What will it be called, by the way?"
"The Defender," said William, proudly.
Doc looked sceptical for a moment, but then brightened:
"Because it shall be The Guardian of Truth, no doubt?"
"Precisely," said William.
"Excellent," said Doc, "this way."
He opened a door in the left-hand wall and motioned William to look inside:
"This is your office."
This was a small but still spacious room containing: a writing desk, three chairs, some filing cabinets and a camp bed. It was William's dream home.
"Everything a busy editor could possibly want," he gushed.
Behind him he heard the back door of the print room open and turned to see…well, he wasn't sure what he was seeing.
"Ah, this is your typesetter," said Doc, "Gudrun Gustaffsdottir."
He must have noticed the look of confusion on Williams face because he added:
"Gudrun is a Hubwards dwarf; they look different in there. Something to do with all that ice."
He'd said different but by the tone of his voice he'd clearly meant strange, because Gudrun looked like no dwarf William had ever seen. He'd once spent a couple of days at the Opera House watching the prelude to Bloodaxe and Ironhammer Act 1: Scene 1. Bloodaxe and Ironhammer was the greatest love story in all of Dwarf Lore. Dwarf Lore was even more sacred than Mining Law and any dwarf worth his beard would defend Mining Law with his life. He wasn't sure that he'd understood it completely –dwarfs could be very nuanced when the weren't lopping off heads or opening-up seams- but he was certain of one thing: either Bloodaxe or Ironhammer was female –though he wasn't sure which one- and they both had beards. He'd never seen a dwarf that didn't have a beard. Gudrun didn't have a beard, and that wasn't even the strangest thing about her. She looked, in almost every way William could think of, female.
For one thing there was her hair. There was nothing unusual about a dwarf having long hair –many of them did- but they always had it tightly braided, to keep it out of the way when they were swinging an axe on the battlefield or a pick down the mine. Also it was usually grey, though it could sometimes be black or even blond. Gudrun's was ginger –auburn, he corrected himself- and loose, and curly. Next, she was wearing a dress. Not chainmail, not animal skin, not armour…a dress. And on her feet she wore little pumps rather than proper boots. Furthermore, the dress accentuated something else, as dresses are often designed to do, she had an hour-glass figure. Dwarfs went straight up and down but Gudrun went in and out, and in all the right places, at least as far as he was concerned, and she was also pretty. She was perhaps not as pretty as Sacharissa, though it was a close run thing, but she was definitely pretty. Undeniably, unquestionably, pretty. In addition she was a little taller than your average dwarf and a good deal slimmer. More slender, he corrected himself. For all the world she looked like a human girl. And a pretty one, he added. The only dwarf he had ever seen that looked remotely like her was Commander Carrot of the City Watch, but Carrot had been adopted, perhaps the same was true of Gudrun.
"Good morning, sir" she said, holding out her hand. She had an un-dwarflike, high-pitched voice too, he noted. Without thinking he did what he would have done had any human woman extended her hand towards him in greeting. He took it, bowed and kissed it. Gudrun looked shocked and blushed profusely.
"You'll have to get used to humans, Gudrun, they're all nuts," laughed Doc.
William thought that indeed he might be slightly nuts because the next thing he did was bold, forward and cheeky. He said:
"You're very pretty."
Gudrun looked confused; Doc looked at William as if he were bonkers. Then she bobbed a curtsy. A curtsy, I ask you? She said:
"Thank you sir," and blushed again. She blushed so much that William ended up nicknaming her Bashful.
"Apparently, she takes after her mother," said Doc, feeling rather confused himself at this point.
So, that's the Carrot Theory out of the window, thought William. Was it a mixed marriage? Was that even possible?
"Well," said Doc, "I'll leave you two to get acquainted." And with that he headed off up the stairs.
There was a short, awkward silence; then William said:
"So, Gudrun, do you have much experience in typesetting?"
"A bit, sir," she replied.
"You don't have to call me sir," he said.
"Sorry, sir"
He decided to let that one go.
"Are you accurate?"
"Always, sir." He admired her confidence. At least she was confident of something.
"And quick?"
"Fairly, sir."
"Well, let's see," he said, taking out his notebook and jotting down a few random sentences. "I want this in Times Old Tsortean 12 point, single spaced."
He handed over the page he'd written on. She took it from him, went over to the bench and began to…finish. Her hands moved so quickly it was as though they weren't moving at all. William had never seen anything like it. Not even anything vaguely similar. She handed him the finished block.
"I think fairly quick might be understating it just a smidgen," he said.
He was an old hand at reading upside-down and backwards but he didn't even bother checking it; he knew there'd be no mistakes.
"You're very good," he continued.
"Thank you, sir," she said, bobbing another curtsy and blushing again, "Oh, hello, Miss. Selene."
William span round and there she was. He knew that by this time he really should have got used to her mysterious appearances, but this one was more than usually unexpected.
"Hi, Scoop," he said.
"I told you not to call me that."
"Sorry, I forgot."
"No you didn't," she said, "good morning, Gudrun."
"You two know each other?" asked William, surprised.
"Oh, Gudrun and I go way back," said Selene.
"Really? You've never mentioned her."
"I am a woman of many secrets."
Well, thought William, there's certainly no arguing with that one.
"Do I take it that Otto will be along…"
"Good mornink," said Otto, emerging from the shadows that William hadn't even realised were there. They certainly weren't there anymore.
"Good morning, Herr von Chriek," said Gudrun, dropping another curtsy.
"You two know each other as well!?" asked William, incredulously.
"But ov course," said Otto, "Gudrun's skills are very vell known."
"I didn't know about them," said William.
"And upon whom do you think that reflects?" asked Selene, acidly; clearly still annoyed about having been called Scoop.
"Well," William continued, "it's good to see you both again. Now I suppose we just have to wait for…"
"I can find my own way, thank you very much!" came an irritated, high-pitched voice from the staircase. William looked around, though he knew exactly who it was. After a good deal of clattering and muttered curses, Sacharissa emerged at the foot of the stairs, slightly breathless. She ran at William, threw her arms around him and hugged him with all her might.
"Oh, William!" she cried, "I thought you were dead."
"So did I," said William, "and I may be soon if you don't let me breathe."
She released him.
"Hello, Selene; hello, Otto," she said, rather shamefacedly, "I'm sorry."
"You're forgiven," said Selene, answering for both of them.
"Great," said Sacharissa, immediately forgetting that there had been anything to apologise for in the first place. "Who's this?" she asked, pointing at Gudrun.
"This is Gudrun Gustaffsdottir," replied William, "our new typesetter."
"Hmmph," said Sacharissa, "she's too pretty to be a typesetter, and too clean. Typesetters are old dwarfs with beards and pipes." She really did love her stereotypes.
"Gudrun is a dwarf," said William. And she's probably about ninety-five, he thought, which would be young for a dwarf.
"Really!?" said Sacharissa, obviously as amazed as William had been. "Whatever," she decided, "I have stories that need to be published."
"As do I," said Selene.
"Unt I haff photographs," Otto added.
"Ah, for that well need to wait for an engraver," said William.
"Oh, I can do it," said Gudrun.
"Really!?" said William and Sacharissa together. Gudrun blushed again.
"I told you Gudrun's skills were famous," said Selene.
"Then how come I've never heard of her?" Sacharissa wanted to know.
Selene merely raised her eyebrows, slightly. Perhaps only William noticed.
"Anyway," Sacharissa went on, "let's get to work, we've got a paper to get out. What's it going to be called, by the way?"
"The Defender," said William, proudly.
"That's a stupid name," said Sacharissa, "why are you calling it that?"
"Because it shall be The Guardian of Truth," he affirmed, puffing out his chest.
"Then why not just call it The Guardian?" she wanted to know.
"Erm…"