Strandpiel 4: Geregtigheid - Justice
How dual nationality works out for one proud user.
Currently embuggered by loads of ideas and very little time to commit to record because of the demands of a new job. LOTS of ideas for continuing old stories ("Many worlds", et c) and barely enough time to sketch them out for retrieval later. Building skeletons, basically.
A series of episodes and glimpses into the later life of a new character. Readers do appear to want to find out more about her. I'll try to put them into some sort of order. As time allows.
For those who wanted some of the immediate aftermath of Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Written at a time when I have a painful problem with teeth, am on heavy duty painkillers and antibiotics because my bloody dentition is betraying me (upper jaw problem that may require a dental hospital stay, bleeding hooray) and I need to do something to take my mind off it. Hoping this tale has coherence.
Scrolling forwards to a time a little more than eight years after the Naming. Ankh-Morpork, one autumn.
"I am so sorry, Mistress Johanna."
Johanna patted the hand of her childrens' nanny.
"You weren't to know. Annaliese. Things like this happen in this city. And happen often. You cannot shield children from them forever. Myself, I wouldn't even try."
She smiled slightly.
"No blame attaches to you. None at all. Now let's go over this again, before I talk to the girls about today?"
It really was one of those things. Johanna was currently pregnant again with what she was determined would be her last child. A son would be nice. But given the sideways looks that Olga and Irena had given each other when she'd mentioned this to the two witches, she suspected it was going to be a third daughter. Witches knew. Even witches who were scrupulously respecting her desire not to be told in advance.
Annaliese had taken the two girls for a walk in Hide Park to give them fresh air and exercise and a chance to play in the open air. Bekki and Famke had appreciated this, and they'd even taken the dogs for a long walk. Johanna, reasoning that a nanny and two children escorted by dogs like Klipdrift and Rooibuis would be extremely safe, had got on with other things.
And the day in the park had been all it should have been. Until Annaliese had led the party out onto the street at the Gibbet.
And they'd seen the body hanging from the gallows. Justice had evidently happened here, and the corpse left to swing for a measured length of time as a thing for passers-by to observe and take a lesson from. Who it had been and what they'd done were immaterial. It was the effect it had had on the girls. Annaliese, a conscientious and serious young woman, was blaming herself. She had brought the matter to her employer and Johanna was now telling her there was nothing to reproach herself for. These things, after all, happened. And in Ankh-Morpork, they happened a lot. Best the girls knew young, and any difficult questions could be answered as best as a parent could. No point in wrapping them in cotton wool or putting blinkers on.
I'll talk to the girls, Johanna decided. Get Ponder involved too. But best find out from Annaliese first.
"Rebecka was very distressed." Annaliese said. "It required much comforting. She said some most strange things. But Famke, Mistress. Famke was asking things like, does it hurt to be hanged? How long does it take to die? Things you do not expect a girl of nearly five to be interested in."
Johanna felt concern. Bekki didn't scare easily and it took a lot to shake her usually sunny disposition. And Famke… Johanna winced. She was watching her younger daughter intently. In more respects than usual for an adventurous outgoing five-year-old, Famke needed close observation. Her interests were different to those of her older sister, for one thing. It took some seriously hands-on parenting with that one.
Johanna reached down and petted Klipdrift, who was sprawled at her feet and panting. The thing about a dog like Klipdrift was that he didn't need much reaching down. You didn't need to stretch a hand very far. Not very far at all.
"What sort of strange things was Bekki saying, Annaliese?"
Annaliese shuffled nervously.
"That she remembered not one but four bodies hanging from ropes, mistress."
Johanna's head jerked up as she made the association. Memories surfaced and she felt an icy flush of guilt, like being doused with cold water. So it wasn't over yet, even now…
"Bring the children to me, Annaliese? And see if the Professor is available. Tell him I have said he is to make time for his daughters. Thank you."
A little later, the family were gathered together. Annaliese and Claude the butler stood discreetly back. Bekki, approaching nine years old, ran forward to greet the dogs. Klipdrift rumbled to his feet and he and his sister Rooibuis padded to meet her. Bekki was briefly swamped by two big affectionate dogs. One of the two family cats turned a languid eye towards her, then resumed her lazy doze on the big armchair.
"Famke?" Johanna said, watching her other daughter. "Remember what I said about the weapons? Not to be touched unless I say so, please. And then only under supervision. Thank you."
Famke Cornelia Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons reluctantly turned away from the exciting display on the wall, and withdrew the fingers that had been reaching out to the hilt of a Brindisian longsword.
"Besides, that one's far too heavy for you." Johanna said, practically. "You'd never be able to lift it. Wait till you see Auntie Emmie next, and she'll help you choose one you can practice with. And that is only if a responsible adult is there to supervise."
Johana sighed. Bekki's attitude to the weapons – and 18 Spa Lane had them in profusion – was a generally disinterested shrug and a tendency to view them as furniture. Just things Mummy hung up on the walls for decoration. Famke was drawn to them. It took close supervision. At least Famke was of an age now to start doing basic drills and instructions. It would burn off her energies and sate her curiosity, Johanna hoped. And teach her, in the right way, that weapons are dangerous.
Ponder Stibbons watched with fatherly concern. He knew Johanna had the thing with Famke and potentially lethal weaponry with lots of sharp edges under control. At least, he hoped so. The day he'd walked into the living room to see his younger daughter, then about three, had taken a sword from the wall and was making ineffectual swings with a weapon she was finding hard to even lift… that had been unsettling. Claude the butler had deftly disarmed her, with firm deference, accepting that she wanted to play at being Mummy and to do what Mummy does, but advising her that it might not be a very good idea at this time, perhaps, and Madam might have opinions to express?
Meanwhile, the only two things on the wall that really interested Bekki were his Wizard's staff and the broomstick. The broom was now securely padlocked in place and Ponder had taken care to introduce Bekki to the Staff. It suffered her touch and didn't do any of the usual things a wizard's staff did to people who touched it without permission.(1) But he'd made sure it was inert for her and she had no access to the magic.(2) You could never be too careful.
Johanna and Ponder made room for the girls to sit between them. He allowed Famke to settle in his lap, and then asked, in as unloaded a way as he could manage, how their day at the Park had been.
"It was amazing, Daddy! We got to see this dead man on a rope!" said Famke, bouncing with enthusiasm. Ponder winced. His daughters were growing up in Ankh-Morpork. Sometimes you got things like this. The city tended to make people think like this.
"It was really nice until we saw the dead man, mummy." Bekki said, shuddering. Johanna hugged her.
"And how did that make you feel, Bekki?" her mother asked, probing gently.
Bekki snuggled closer and considered this for a long moment.
"It was horrible, mummy." she said. "I know Annaliese said it was necessary and bad things happen to bad people who do bad things. So that man must have done something bad. Maybe hurt somebody badly. So I suppose he deserved it…"
Bekki let her voice tail off into uncertainty. Johanna hugged her reassuringly.
"But just to leave him hanging there. Is that right, mummy?"
Johanna thought about the issue. Lord Vetinari must have been annoyed. Or wanted to make an example. So that people saw and took note. The bodies were usually tided away immediately afterwards, weren't they? She made soothing noises of the sort that conveyed that they aren't left there forever, Bekki. Even bad men have families and people who loved them. They're allowed to take the body down and give them some sort of decent burial. After a while. And so a rotting corpse isn't left there to stink. Public health hazard. Vetinari accepts that we've moved on from the really old days. At least, a little.
She looked over to where Famke was asking excited questions about does it hurt, and how long does it take to die? Annaliese wouldn't answer, she said they weren't nice things for a little girl to ask, but I want to know, Daddy!
Johanna assessed her younger daughter. She didn't think it was anything alarming. Famke was kind to animals, for one thing. She'd screamed at a boy who was throwing stones at a cat, lost her temper, and made to chase him. A boy twice her size and several years older had turned and fled rather than confront her. Then again, the cat involved was Pyn. Who is not a cat you wish to have made angry with you.
No, none of the usual early indicators of any sort of sociopathy were there. Famke didn't torment animals or have an unhealthy interest in lighting fires, for instance.(3) In her case, it was probably an early indicator of the sort of character traits the Guild of Assassins took an interest in. There, I've said it. She is fascinated with weapons and is now displaying a precocious but intellectual interest in the processes of death. If my second daughter does not take a place at the School in a few years time, I would be surprised.
She left Ponder explaining, as best he could, about what death was, how it was necessary to balance out life, that everybody born would eventually die, and for instance, when you were very tiny, we had two older dogs who'd lived full happy lives, but came to their ends. They were called Kaffee and Crème, and everyone was sad when they died. Today we've got Klipdrift and Roobuis and they're big happy healthy dogs. Maybe when the day comes for them, and it will, there'll be new dogs to replace them. But not for many years yet. And, Ponder said, there's also Death. Errrm.
"It still makes me sad to think about Kaffee and Crème, mummy." Bekki said. "I love Rooibuis and Klipdrift, but when I'm grown up, I think I'd like a ridgeback. Of my own."
"Never try to replace them." Johanna said. "It doesn't work that way. New dogs make a new place for themselves. A different place. That's why I chose boerboels as the new dogs. Your Auntie Mariella suggested it. She was right."
They contemplated the enormous mastiffs together. Boerboels could never be called attractive dogs. They were bulky where Kaffee and Crème had been sleek. Their faces could be kindly described as having character(4). But they were hugely amiable and good-natured and everybody in the household loved them. Johanna had no doubt that they'd show their other side if the household were to come under attack. The postman on the Spa Lane walk was wary, for instance. And not just of the dogs.
"So what else happened today?" Johanna prompted her daughter. Bekki took her time in answering. Johanna sensed her daughter felt troubled.
"Mummy, when I saw that poor man hanging there. I got a memory. But I'm not sure if it was a memory or not. I mean, mummy, to remember something, it actually has to have happened, hasn't it? Or else it isn't a memory. But I remembered not one man hanging up there. But four, all in a row. And all the people around me, there were lots of people, were happy and pleased to see them hanging. You were there, and ouma and oupa, and Auntie Mariella, and others."
Johanna tried not to sit up suddenly straight.
"But I don't remember being in a place like that. Or I'd remember." Bekki said, perplexed. "It must have been a dream or something. Maybe it came back, mummy, when I saw the hanged man."
Johanna let the icy flood of guilt wash over her. She remembered a time, nearly nine years before…
.. The robbery of the express train between Quirm and Ankh-Morpork.
Assault and robbery with aggravated violence of one hundred and twelve passengers.
The murder of nine goblins who were part of the train crew.
The murder of a Watch constable assigned to the Railway Police in the course of his duties.
The attempted murder of a second constable of the Railway Watch.
The new gallows had been erected in Sator Square. Vetinari had sanctioned the cost of this very public hanging and all the infrastructure that went with it, like a viewing podium for invited dignitaries, as some executions needed to be done very publicly. The Watch were out in force, reinforced by more than the usual number of armed prison officers from the Tanty. And the square was packed as far back as the Maul. There was a carnival air of expectation. Dibblers were out in force servicing the crowd.
The murder of Thief, Stephen "Titch" Gibbet. (26) Unlawful disposal of his body.
Armed robbery of Trawler's Alchemickal Suppliers. Theft of chemicals and sundries which is compounded by these substances being illegal to hold without a licence to practice Alchemy.
The murder of wizard Anthony Aloysius Theopracticus (22).
The opening show, the support act, was the despatching of the surviving henchmen, those of the gang recruited to assault Eighteen Spa Lane. Twenty-six thugs had been recruited on the promise of fifty dollars a head, pick of valuables, and freedom to do as they liked with any women they captured before killing them too. In reality, they were there as arrow-fodder, meat-shields, to soak up the damage to be sustained in attacking a hose full of Assassins and other dangerous people. Only twelve had lived in the end, and then only to be hanged today. The wounded men had very carefully been nurtured back to health so that Vetinari could refuse clemency or commutation of sentence. They had, after all, voluntarily and knowingly associated sentence with men who had attempted to assassinate Vetinari himself. And then agreed to attack, murder and rape. Nobody had forced them at any point. Therefore they would all hang.
The henchmen were marshalled to the scaffold in groups of four. The crowd watched, intent. This was a warm-up to the main event…
From the viewing platform set up for dignitaries, Johanna Smith-Rhodes watched, with an expression of detached disinterest. She recognised one of the woebegone individuals on the scaffold. It was the man who'd been stabbed in the thigh by a goblin armed with a stolen kitchen knife. Johanna, chasing the ringleader, had lashed his arm with her whip to disarm him of his knife. Apart from the final showdown on the roof, it had been pretty much the only actual fighting she'd done in defence of her own home and family. Other people, many of whom were gathered around her here to witness the final act of the drama, had done the defending for her. She felt glad and thankful she had such family and friends.
"I told you that you would hang." she remarked in his general direction, as Mr Trooper the Civic Hangman hooded him and said a few final words, before adjusting the set of the noose. The usual sort of people stood back on the scaffold, as Mr Trooper went from man to man. The priest who was there for the ritual last words. Doctor Mossy Lawn, there to pronounce death and ensure the bodies taken away were really cadavers. Watchmen at strategic points on the fringes. Sam Vimes himself, standing alongside Peter Bellamy, the Deputy Governor of the Tanty Prison. Johanna appreciated there were formalities. The habeus corpus business, literally so in this case. Prisoners in Tanty custody released into the custody of the Watch for one last escorted journey across the City. Then four bodies released back into the custody of the Tanty for disposal. It created paperwork, a head-count that had to tally at all stages. And with a hanging like this, it had to be Sam Vimes and Peter Bellamy, the men at the top, dealing with the issues. Nobody else could be present.
"I wonder if monsieur Trooper sat up all night preparing his bons blagues for sixteen men, chere amie?"
Emmanuelle de Lapoignard had moved next to Johanna on the viewing podium. She too had been a target for the gang and had been there on the last night. She was an invited person here, one with a special interest in seeing justice served. Johanna smiled at her old friend.
"After all, he prides himself on a bespoke personal service to his clients. In that he is not unlike an Assassin."
Johanna agreed. They watched the twelve lesser criminals leave the world, in orderly batches of four. The crowd cheered every drop. But they too were awaiting the main performance.
"How are you finding it, ma petite?" Emmanuelle asked, a housemistress taking care of a pupil. Mariella Smith-Rhodes, her wounded leg pretty much healed by now and standing unassisted, looked across to her teacher. She shrugged. Johanna suspected this was a show of blasé unconcern to hide a lot of queasiness underneath. Teenage bravado.
"Distasteful. But I suppose it has to be done." Mariella said. "And it draws a line under the whole business."
"Ja." agreed her father. "Trek ons die lyn, Mariella. The words have many meanings. And you drew your line on the night. When that bliksem stepped over it, you stabbed him with a spear. You held your ground and you stood your man. You gave him pain and hurt. And I am proud of you, my daughter!"
Barbarossa and Agnetha, their parents, were here too. Still here, nearly three months further on.
"This is justice." Agnetha Smith-Rhodes said. "Geregtigheid. It is right that we should be here to see it done. Distasteful, ja. Maar, Geregtigheid."
The litany continued in Johanna's head.
Setting explosive devices with the intent to damage property, to kill and injure.
An attempt on the life, via explosive device, of Sergeant Precious Jolson of the City Watch. The attempted destruction by explosive device of premises belonging to her father, Mr Alowayo "All" Jolson, restaurateur.
Sending explosive devices through the post, contravening City law and Post Office Regulations 27(d) (i) to 31 (j) (vii) inclusive.
An attempt by explosive device on the life of miss Heidi van Kruger, Magersfontein, R.H., currently resident in Ankh-Morpork and Acting Deputy Director of the Ankh-Morpork City Zoo. To be concurrently prosecuted under Rimwards Howondalandian criminal law.
Acts of arson at the said City Zoo occasioned by incendiary Devices.
An attempt by explosive device on the life of Doctor Johanna Smith-Rhodes, Piemberg, R.H., currently resident in Ankh-Morpork, tutor at the Assassins' Guild School and Director of the Ankh-Morpork City Zoo. To be concurrently prosecuted under Rimwards Howondalandian criminal law.
Johanna heard her father humming the old song. Heidi van Kruger joined in, no doubt seeing the irony and relevance.
En veg ons nie sal ons verdwyn,
By Magersfontein, by Magersfontein, by Magersfontein,
Trek ons die lyn!
"Ja. You had your Magersfontein. In your own living room." Agnetha said. Magersfontein had been a turning-point battle, or rather a series of battles, in the War of Independence. It was also Heidi's home town. Johanna was pretty sure Heidi was a descendant of one of the great Generals. It explained a lot about her.
"And had you not fought, you would have died. You drew your line, and you defended it. Now we are here to see the last act." Agnetha Smith-Rhodes said, with grim satisfaction.
Emmanuelle and Davinia Bellamy looked puzzled. Johanna realised not everybody here spoke Vondalaans, and quickly translated a precis for them.
"Draw a line, hold that line, stand your ground, pick your man, get him before he gets you. Important ideas in my country." Johanna explained. Mariella and Cousin Julian nodded in agreement. Mariella found herself humming lines from a song. Cousin Julian joined in.
"Al breek die hel hier agter ons los,
En al stort die hemel neer!
Hou jou lyn en staan jou man.."
"Of course, the trick is when all Hell breaks loose and the heavens fall, you have to make sure it's all coming down on the other man." Julian Smith-Rhodes said, drily. "Which makes it a little easier to hold your line and pick your man, if he's a bit dizzy from hell breaking loose and the skies falling on his head."
An attack on the Embassy of The Republic of Rimwards Howondaland, resulting in the deaths of the following named Embassy staff (….) an assassination attempt on the life of his Excellency Pieter van der Graaf, Ambassador, resulting in wounding, the wounding of the following named personnel (…), and an attempt on the life of Captain Julian Smith-Rhodes, military attaché. To be concurrently prosecuted to the fullest extent of Rimwards Howondalandian criminal law.
An attempt to assassinate Havelock Vetinari, Lord Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, by means of explosive device. For consequent criminal damage at the Patrician's Palace occasioned by the detonation of said Device.
For two attempts on the life of Miss Mariella Smith-Rhodes, of Piemberg, R.H., student at the Assassins' Guild School. For the wounding and grievous bodily harm inflicted on Miss Smith-Rhodes. To be concurrently prosecuted to the fullest extent of Rimwards Howondalandian criminal law. The Court notes that this also became subject to retributory contract by the Guild of Assassins.
And then the four principal players were marched onto the scaffold under heavy Watch escort. Vetinari was taking no chances here. Nor was Sam Vimes. Peter Bellamy too, Davinia's husband, watching on behalf of the Tanty and discharging four criminals off his head-count by the most direct route possible. The last thing he would want would be an escape attempt, a rescue, or a botched execution. Peter was there to make sure, too.
Johanna turned to the new nanny Annaliese, who was standing guard over the pram. It was clear the girl was shaken up by what she was witnessing. She was also new to Ankh-Morpork, having arrived in a big frightening city from a farming backwater somewhere in the Stos.
"You don't need to look." Johanna said, kindly. "But ensure Bekki is safe. Dankie."
The VIP platform was fairly full. But he frowned, seeing a space had unaccountably opened up where her husband Ponder Stibbons was standing with Mustrum Ridcully and Irena Politek. Ridcully was here to see justice done on behalf of the wizard Theopracticus, one of the murder victims. Irena because… well, a Witch goes where she damn well likes. Right now, he, Ponder and Irena appeared to be having a seemingly one-sided conversation with an unseen fourth party. If you didn't know better, you'd suspect a touch of insanity…
EVEN THOUGH I'M HERE FOR WORK. THERE IS ALWAYS AN INTERESTING ATMOSPHERE AT THESE EVENTS.
"A gala performance, you might say."
INDEED, MR RIDCULLY. THESE GENTLEMEN WHO ARE ABOUT TO MEET ME HAVE INDEED SENT A LOT OF WORK MY WAY OVER THE YEARS. AND NOW IT'S THEIR TURN.
Ponder glanced over to Johanna, who was watching him intently.
"She can't, err, see you?" he asked. Death shook his head slightly.
I AM OFTEN NEARBY TO ASSASSINS. BUT IF THEY SEE ME DIRECTLY, IT MEANS THEY HAVE FAILED IN THE CONTRACT. THEREFORE ASSASSINS PREFER NOT TO SEE ME. A PITY. GIVE HER MY REGARDS, PROFESSOR STIBBONS. I FEAR WE SHALL ONLY EVER ONCE HAVE A DIRECT CONVERSATION.
"But, err, not for some time yet?" Ponder asked.
"YOU HAVE TIME, PROFESSOR. SO DOES YOUR WIFE. NOW IF YOU EXCUSE ME, I AM NEEDED ELSEWHERE?"
Johanna watched the gap on the podium close and the magic-users relaxed visibly. One of those little mysteries, she thought. She turned her attention to the four handcuffed men on the scaffold. Them. The principal players. The stars of the show. Although there was no way any of them would be coming back for an encore or to take a bow. Not in this life, anyway.
The illegal and false imprisonment of the Jefferson family of Number Five Shallow Valley.
The attack en masse at Eighteen Spa Lane with the intention of criminal destruction, robbery, rape and murder of the occupants. By implication, conspiracy to murder and the attempted murder of the following people:
Doctor Johanna Smith-Rhodes
Professor Ponder Stibbons…
And ten others, plus a variable number of Goblins.
The party on the podium leant forward expectantly. This was what they were here for. The end. Of seven or so months of anxiety and worry and concern. An end. And payback.
Johanna watched the four men on the scaffold. Mr Trooper was moving from man to man, acting for the crowd, reciting his no doubt carefully prepared final words, those nearest in the crowd able to listen in, and laughing appreciatively. Or dutifully. Three of the men were passive, neither fearful nor defiant, accepting mutely and silently as the hoods went on and the nooses were looped over their necks and adjusted. They didn't struggle as their feet were guided to the right position on the traps. The priest followed on, reciting the approved words. Behind them, Stoneface Vimes glared silently, watching the scene intently, no doubt there to make sure they were properly dead. Johanna suspected he'd go and check the bodies below, just to make absolutely sure.
An expectant silence was falling over the crowd.
And Mr Trooper came to the fourth man, who glared him fully in the face. The fourth man then turned away and looked out over the crowded square, defiant to the last.
Johanna suddenly knew there was something she now had to do. Something vitally necessary. A final touch. She went to the pram and reached in. Carefully, lovingly, with reassuring words to Annaliese, she lifted her infant daughter, now maybe ten weeks old, into her arms. Bekki gurgled sleepily but recognised her mother's warmth.
Then she looked, one last time, into the hate-filled mad raging eyes of Preet duPlessis, the man who had brought all this about and tried his best to kill her. She restrained a shudder. Then lifted her child aloft.
You are about to die. I'm still here. And so is my daughter!
The gesture was wordless. But hugely satisfying. She saw duPlessis' face contort in rage. Then mr Trooper wrestled the hood over his head…
And Johanna heard her daughter crying out in fear and alarm. Lifting Bekki down, she saw her daughter's eyes were fully open and she was crying in fear. Feeling shame and guilt, she sought to soothe her.
And across the square, four ropes tautened and four bodies swung…
"If you had not done that, I would have done." Johanna's mother said, with approval.
"Vorbei. Well done." her father said. But he still shook his head slightly.
Mariella looked at her older sister, her mouth slightly open with shock and not a little awe.
Julian Smith-Rhodes took a deep breath.
"Remind me never to fall out with your side of the family." he said.
Johanna soothed Bekki, and returned her to the pram.
"Well, it's over." she said. "Let's go home. I think we all need a drink."
And now, nearly nine years on, that moment had returned to haunt her.
"Is it ever truly over?" she thought. She took a deep breath.
"Rebecka. Listen to me. You know on the night you were born, very many things happened? Well, in the months leading up to your birth, we were troubled by bad men…"
Much later, Bekki nodded and tried to understand what she had just heard, pretty much in full, for the first time.
"Did anything happen on the night of my birth, mummy?" Famke asked. Johanna shook her head.
"Apart from your being born, you mean? No, nothing. It was a quiet night. No gang of armed men kicking the doors and windows in and seeking to kill us all. Just me going to the Lady Sybil, and your turning up some time later."
"That's not fair, mummy!" Famke protested. "Why should Bekki have got all the fun?"
Johanna patted her stomach with a free hand. It wasn't showing much yet, but Number Three was on the way. She wondered how exactly they'd finessed it to get the kids at nice manageable roughly four year intervals. So some things could work out well. If you tried.
"Fair? Yes. It is. For me, anyway. Once is enough, for that sort of thing. Don't you agree, Ponder?"
Ponder Stibbons smiled agreement. He still wondered just exactly how he's got here. One minute a conscientious bachelor Wizard working his way up the ladder. Then the impossible – a girlfriend. Then a wife. The same person, in fact. And now he was a father. Several times over. And he realised he really liked it. Even though marriage to an adventurous career Assassin had never been dull and had led him, by her side, into some places of utter bowel-loosening terror. He realised he wouldn't give it up for anything.
And, he realised, his daughters were not going to be completely normal. Neither of them. It didn't matter. He loved them fiercely and realised it was going to be interesting to watch them growing up. He suspected they'd both be exceptional people.(5) It was up to him, and to Johanna, to do their best to see they were exceptional people for the right reasons.
And he was looking forward to it.
(1) Wizards can get touchy about these things. Ponder usually had his on the lowest possible setting of "Please do not do this again without permission". Other Wizards tended to be a little bit more emphatic. They also tended not to bother with setting their Staffs to recognise that sometimes people touched them innocently or by accident. Or, in the case of Ponder and Johanna's servants, ran a feather duster over them. It had been the scream and the smell of burning feathers that had alerted Ponder to the need to re-set his Staff to recognise when it was being cleaned.
(2) Bekki had been put out to reach up and touch the Staff and hear a voice speaking out of apparently empty air. The voice had said ++Miss Rebecka Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons?++ Professor Stibbons has applied parental controls on this Device.++Access to content is blocked to you and is password-of-power protected.++Please consult the Professor for guidance.++Thank you and have a pleasant day.++As you ask, you may think of me as the System Administrator.++
(3) Teachers at the Assassins' Guild School were trained in recognising the symptoms of psychopathy. It was possible, the Guild knew, to nurture the wrong sort of killer. Taking a psychopath, and training them in Assassin skills, was held not to be prudent or wise. Another Jonathan Teatime would not be good for anyone.
(4) that is, pug-ugly. Boerboels, a VERY large South African mastiff, have faces chock-full of personality and character. People tended to look at Johanna's new dogs and ask if this was a case of her upping the stakes in terms of sheer size of chosen domestic pet. And as for her housecats… on Roundworld, Pyn and Smart would be Maine Coons. Cats and dogs in her household had signed their own non-aggression treaty early on, and got on amiably enough, respecting each other's space so long as meals arrived on time and there was enough for everybody. This was held to be a Good Thing.
(5) It is true to say that all parents believe their children are exceptional, bright, talented and gifted, which is often an opinion that flies in the face of the objectively considered evidence. But just now and again, they're right.
Notes Dump:
Somewhere in a sea roughly halfway between two continents, the one of the tale being currently written and the semi-glimpsed one of future tales yet to be committed to paper, where isolated ideas are given lifebelts and a signal rocket against being rescued in future. Did I mention I am reading Nelson Mandela's biography "Long Walk To Freedom" and gathering information on what life was like for the other half of South Africa? Useful background for when I come to write Black Howondaland.
Llamedosian placename – got to be long and intricate and a gag perpetrated at the expense of those who cannot speak the language.
Llanydrefgydageglwyssantonanaoruchwylioddlawerynorfodol. Agogoch.
For future use; names of horses belonging to Boer War generals.
Koos de la Rey – horse called Bokkie, or Boykie.
"Ilunga" is a word in one of the Bantu languages spoken in Africa that means "a person who is ready to forgive any abuse for the first time, to tolerate it a second time, but never a third time".