Strandpiel 6: Opvoeding - Education.
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.
Damn. Little question I've not pondered before. What exactly would be Alice Band's weak points as an Assassin? She must have some, otherwise she's in danger of being a Mary Sue with a LesYay streak… and I strive not to write bad lazy fics. I see her as being cautious around explosives. As a Stealth Archaeologist she must have a working knowledge of what they can do and how to skirt or defuse them, but would she prefer not to have an active involvement with setting them. Or something. I can see one other weakness, but not the sort Johanna would discuss with a nine-year-old daughter even as a for instance. "She likes pretty girls too much… just don't ask, Bekki". No, wouldn't work.
Right now 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) Being zonked on prescription drugs isn't affecting fnord the writing too much. Thribble.
Back to the story. Fnord. Slight edit to tidy and sweep out little dusty corners.
Bekki and her friend Davvie Bellamy, sidelined for the moment, sat at the edge of the garden lawn and watched the two boys sparring with dulled blades. And they were good. There was no doubt about it. Phillipe-Henri, a year younger, was holding his own against his brother's determined attack. The swords rang as the two brothers circled each other, seeking for an advantage they could exploit. Bekki watched Manni, who at nearly ten was lean, wiry, supple, and, she recognised in a way she wasn't completely at home with, nice to look at. Although they'd grown up together since forever. Manni and Pippi were the nearest things she had to brothers. They lived next door, after all, and their mothers were friends. The children had been brought up together, an extended family. The families shared parenting duties and nannies. It was a good arrangement.
Davvie, plump, blonde and good-natured, a girl who wore big round-lensed glasses that made her look like a younger edition of her mother, watched critically.
"Pippi's going to drop his guard in a minute." she said. "He always does that. Just watch."
Bekki conceded that Davvie Bellamy was better at Swords than she was. She accepted this. Mummy was matter-of-fact about it, pointing out that everybody has different strengths, and that while she was good with swords, other people, like your Auntie Emmie, are better, and will always defeat me in a bout. On the other hand, I can fire a crossbow far more accurately than Emmie and she knows that. And if it came to survival in the veldt far away from any town, I would thrive and she would starve. Or freeze. She knows that too. And if Davvie's mother had a swordfight with either of us, she would be very much the loser. But if she chose to poison either of us, we would be dead in seconds. We would not even know. And your Godsmother Alice... Bekki noted that here her mother paused, as if wondering what she could safely say to her daughter about her godsmother... your Godsmother Alice could loose six arrows even before my sword was halfway out of its sheath. But she finds explosive devices a trial and prefers not to have to deal with them. So find your strengths, Rebecka. And know your weaknesses. More importantly, be aware of the strengths and weaknesses of others.
The idea that Davvie's mother might be inclined to poison people was alarming to Bekki. At first. But she quietly adored another of her adoptive aunts, the neighbour on the other side, and found her to be warm and kind and motherly and always ready with a snack or a cold drink. Davinia Bellamy did not employ a nanny, preferring to be a hands-on working mother who was always there, always approachable. She appreciated Annaliese and Sylvie, the governess employed by Auntie Emmie, for waht they could do; but much preferred having no intermediaries in bringing up her own daughter. Bekki thought about things again. Oh, she knew Grandmother Joan poisoned people. She accepted that some Assassins did. And were quite expert at it. She recalled Grandmother Joan's long spare figure, her austere and slightly disapproving face, and her long clever fingers. She could see her adoptive grandmother poisoning people for a living. And they said she was going to be Chief Assassin. Mistress of the Guild, when Lord Downey stood down and retired. Apparently Lord Downey, according to something Auntie Emmie had whispered to Mummy, had expressed a desire to actually have a long happy retirement. He was keen for the only things his deputy put into his teacup to be milk and sugar, Auntie Emmie had said in her making-mischief voice.
Which would make Grandmother Joan into Mummy's boss, Bekki reflected. A woman who poisoned people for a living. And who also made beautiful yummy cakes and desserts, and who never failed to bring something nice over "for the kiddies" when she visited.
Bekki pondered the paradox of Assassins, professional killers. Who she knew were people like Mummy or Auntie Emmie or even Cousin Emma, when they weren't actually killing people. They were just… people. And apparently not that long ago, Wizards had been killing each other a lot to become bigger Wizards with more status. Daddy had talked about this. He'd said this had gone on quite a lot when he'd first started out, as a student at the University. Wizards routinely killed the Wizards above them to be able to climb one rung further up the ladder. Meanwhile the Wizards on the rungs underneath you…
Bekki had pointed out that Daddy was on the second-highest rung on that ladder, with only one person above him. The obvious spill-question hovered, unsaid.
Daddy had taken no offence.
"I was lucky. Your oupa Mustrum arrived. Things changed. Nobody seriously tries to kill each other now. Nobody's seriously tried to kill me, thank goodness. Although I think your mother might have had something to do with that. Especially after she found the scorpions in my boots. I think she had a quiet little word with the wizard who'd put them there, or something. The news got around. And I can look back and say – although now and again I have wanted to, and believe me, I have wanted to, I've never killed another Wizard. I got to be Vice-Chancellor without killing anybody. Which makes me very lucky."
Mummy had smiled slightly.(1)
Bekki and Davvie carried on watching the boys sparring on the lawn. Pippi was tiring a little, but his brother was showing signs of fatigue too. It was going to be a close-fought bout. The swords clashed again in another flurry of parries and thrusts. Bekki realised they were good at it. Her sister Famke bounced excitedly and squealed encouragement. Auntie Emmie was now training her, too. Bekki sighed. When your little sister, who isn't even six, is better at it than you are, despite only having been seriously training for less than a year…
"Told you." Davvie said. "He let his guard drop. Manni's too good."
Auntie Emmie stepped forward.
"Assez, mes enfants." she said. It was easy to tell she was pleased. Her sons dropped their guard and made the obligatory bow to each other.
"I can see you will not shame me when you arrive as pupils at my school and appear in my classes, as pupils." she said. "That pleases me. Now. Emmanuel-Martin. What have I said to you about falling into a pattern of repetitive movement? That is a gift to your opponent, mon petit. Ecoutes!"
She fell into speaking to her sons in Quirmian. Bekki understood. Quirmian was the indoor language next door, as Vondalaans was in her home. She listened, and an understanding fell into place in her mind. Being around a family who spoke Quirmian in the house was no biggie. She'd just adjusted something in her ears and in her head, and it made sense. Auntie Emmie had been quietly pleased and encouraged her in this.
"Wish I know more of what they were saying. It's like, no offence, when people in your house start talking in Vondalaans." Davvie remarked. Bekki looked at her friend, puzzled.
"But you've been around them as much as I have." she said. "Shouldn't you have picked some of it up by now? It's easy. Auntie Emmie's telling Pippi off about dropping his guard. She's telling Manni off about getting into a pattern that's as reliable as a clock to anyone watching.."
"You're good at languages, Bekki. I wish I was!"
Bekki frowned. The Bellamys only spoke Morporkian in the house. Bekki wondered how anyone could live like that. It sounded dreadful. Well, not dreadful as such. But drab, with something missing.
But she had grown up in a multi-language household. She wondered if that made people better at languages. Gave you a head start, or something. Manni and Pippi handled two languages effortlessly and switched between Morporkian and Quirmian even halfway through a sentence. They'd picked up a little Vondalaans too. Well, when Annaliese had been nannying everybody's kids, it happened. And Annaliese didn't even speak Vondalaans. Or at least, she'd started out speaking something called Phlegmish, which was related, like Kerrigian. But she'd become more Vondalaans over the years.
Bekki contemplated this. People visiting from Home – her other Home - remarked that Bekki and Famke could speak the language alright, but they've got some odd twists and turns of phrase. That was down to Annaliese. Daddy had picked the language up. Well, he was forced to. Uncle Danie and Auntie Heidi observed that he had a Morporkian accent that was a mile wide but, hey, no biggie, Ponder, you speak our language. Lekker, bro. Bekki had noticed she could push the language she spoke in one direction, add in a few flounces and what sounded like un-necessary overcomplications that Vondalaans lacked, slant the cadences and rhythms differently, and then she was speaking Kerrigian. Add a few really un-necessary trills and flounces and Talk In Old, seriously Old, and she could speak Phlegmish.(2) Annaliese had been taken aback. She'd gone away, then returned with several books in Phlegmish, suitable for a child. Bekki had devoured them even though the picture books about a boy called Cancan and his little dog Slushy had been a little bit silly. Funny, but silly. Like Cancan's hairstyle. How did that absurd little tuft in the front of an otherwise bald-seeming head stay up like that?
And the business with the servants. They talked among themselves in a different language. Or maybe as they were from different Howondalandian tribes, something made up of little bits of several languages. Claude's language was different to Eve's, for instance. Bekki had listened intently, then astonished Eve and Blessing by joining in their conversation. The maids had then clandestinely coached her and encouraged her, stressing that she should not tell Madam about this just yet, please? Eve had said, in her dry funny way, that Madam would be really surprised.
There was a song they sung. They were very careful not to sing it when Mummy was in. They weren't so worried about humming or singing it when Daddy was there, Bekki noted. She wondered why they were so careful around Mummy or any of Mummy's family or indeed people from Howondaland. It was a nice song.
One day, people were visiting. Bekki loved having Uncle Danie and Auntie Heidi there. Uncle Danie was big and funny and gentle. Like a big boy who hadn't properly grown up. Auntie Heidi put up with this. Then Godsfather Julian and Auntie Ruth arrived. They were welcomed. Bekki sat in the living room playing with her toys while the grown-ups talked. Eve was there to serve drinks.
Bekki found herself humming a song as she played. By degrees it became the song the maids sang as they worked.
"Nkosi sikelel' iWondala, Maluphakanyisw' uphondo lwayo…"
Then she realised all conversation in the room had stopped and everyone was looking at her.
"Bekki," Godsfather Julian said, blinking. He spoke slowly and deliberately. "Wherever did you learn that song?"
Bekki tried not to look at Eve, who had gone very still and quiet. She didn't want to get her into trouble. Eve was kind and nice and funny.
She looked round again. The woman she knew as Auntie Ruth had her stern face on. Bekki knew enough about Ruth N'Kweze to suspect she put that face on when she was trying very, very, hard not to burst out laughing. Ruth was currently looking very stern indeed.
"It's a nice song, Uncle Julian." she said. "I must have heard it somewhere. Nice songs, songs you want to sing."
Auntie Heidi and Mummy looked at each other. Then Mummy smiled.
"Ag, I know it." she said. "It's the one the maids sing when they think I'm not listening."
Mummy smiled at Eve.
"I get this terrible deafness sometimes." she said, "In both ears. Keep meaning to take it to a doctor. It comes and goes."
Eve relaxed.
"It's a shame Liutnant Verkramp at the Embassy is not afflicted by deafness." Mummy remarked. "He has an ear for some sorts of music."
"So be careful where you sing." Godsfather Julian added. "And what you sing. And who's in the audience. Music critics can really put a crimp in things."
"Didn't hear a thing." said Uncle Danie, completely poker-faced. "Deafness runs in the family. Shame."
"I understand you, sir." Eve said. She suddenly looked very relieved. "Thank you, madam. I hope you are not too often troubled by deafness."
"As I say, it comes and goes." Mummy said, with a totally straight face.
A little later Auntie Ruth came over to sit with Bekki. Bekki thought her really dark brown skin was beautiful, and wondered why some people she met now and again didn't think so.
"Kudala sagqibelana! Unjani?" she asked, pleasantly.
Without thinking, Bekki replied "Ndiphilile enkosi, unjani wena?"
Auntie Ruth smiled pleasantly at her. Bekki saw her mother suddenly lift her head and pay some very intent attention. Uncle Danie whistled appreciatively and said "jislaik!"
Ruth shook her head slightly.
"You know, when I was teaching our languages to Julian, it took him absolutely ages to get to that stage?" she remarked. "You're, what is it now, nearly ten, and you've already got the hang of conversational Xhosa. That's like a sort of universal language in Howondaland, by the way. In places like Rumbabwe, which your people call Smith-Rhodesia, they spell it Shosa, but it's the same universal language. Well, I say universal, but not many white people bother with it."
Ruth smiled again.
"Ngicela ukhulume nami ngesiZulu?" she asked. Bekki blinked and tried to focus. She'd got the word "Zulu", and some of the other words sounded familiar, in the same way some Morporkian words sounded like the ghosts of words in Vondalaans… "praat" was an echo of the word "prattle", for instance, only it meant "speak" in Vondalaans and "to babble" in Morporkian… maybe Howondalandian languages had the same sort of echoes…
"Are you asking me if I can speak any Zulu?" Bekki asked, carefully. Ruth grinned happily.
"Which you probably don't at the moment, but I could teach you some." Ruth offered. "That's if your mother agrees, of course, and as long as you don't care about it going down on your BOSS file as proof of your being a subversive."
"They probably opened one on Bekki the moment she arrived." Auntie Heidi said. "Just to get a head start and save time. Every Smith-Rhodes gets one. Johanna's probably got a whole filing cabinet to herself by now."
"Subversive woman, my bigsister." Uncle Danie agreed. He'd had his own run-ins with BOSS.(3) He didn't like the creepy Verkramp either.
"Completely politically unreliable." Cousin Julian said.
Bekki looked uncertainly at her mother. Mummy smiled slightly. Bekki braced herself for another of those lessons about grown-up life not being as straightforward as it should be. She sighed. Why did grown-ups have to make it so difficult for themselves? She, Bekki, didn't have a problem with, for instance, Auntie Ruth and Godsfather Julian liking each other the way they did. She thought it was really nice. Mummy and Daddy were fond of each other. In love. They could still do the holding hands and kissing thing and they'd been married since forever. Auntie Heidi really loved Uncle Danie. Anyone could see that. Auntie Mariella had her own thing going on and it looked a little strange from the outside that she could never say it outright and she still called him all those rude words Mummy had warned her about repeating. But those really rude words, when you got past the sounds, sounded like "Listen, shit-for-brains, you know I really love you. You bastard."
But just because Uncle Julian, her Godsfather, was white of skin and Auntie Ruth was what people called black, as if that mattered, Bekki had been warned to be very, very, careful, and not to mention it anywhere outside the house or to people she did not know. "But why couldn't Uncle Julian and Auntie Ruth be happy and in love in public, Mummy? Why do they have to keep it a secret?"
Mummy had hesitated before replying.
"Wellnow. You've met Liutnant Verkramp, haven't you? He thinks it matters. He'd use that to hurt Julian and Ruth. Because he's a nasty little sh… because he's nasty. And he has the power to be really nasty. That's a good enough reason, for justnow. That you don't want him to find out."
"Verkramp's a bully, mummy! You teach me to fight bullies and not to give in to them!"
Mummy had nodded, soberly.
"And he's part of a big gang of bullies, Bekki. Called the Bureau Of State Security. And please be assured a lot of people are keen to fight them. We do fight them, in our ways. But BOSS. Beware of that name. Be cautious. Not everything in your other country is right. BOSS is a big part of the wrong."
Bekki suspected she was a small part of a big conspiracy. Practically everybody in Mummy's circle of friends seemed to hate BOSS. And at the same time to be a little bit wary of them. Not frightened. Mummy was never frightened. But Bekki knew when Mummy was being cautious. She had explained that caution was a big part of being an Assassin. Being aware of something called over-confidence. Taking on more than you could successfully handle. Watching an opponent who needed to be dealt with but knowing you could not hope to do it today, as the opponent was too big and too strong and too well-defended. You watched. You observed. You gathered information. You looked for weaknesses. And maybe tomorrow…
And BOSS had files on everybody. Bekki knew there was probably one on her. It would be a short slim file as she couldn't think of anything she'd done, at the age of nine, that was all that bad. The idea was scary. That there were policemen who wanted to arrest you because the way you thought, inside your own head, was considered to be a crime. Bekki knew, without needing to work out why, that this was wrong. But just because she had "Smith-Rhodes" in her name, and that in itself was enough…
Ruth hugged Bekki around the shoulders.
She began humming a song. It was the same tune the maids sang, but the words were different.
"Yizwa imithandazo yethu,
Nkosi sikelela, thina lusapho lwayo."
"Bekki? Not to be sung anywhere Liutnant Verkramp, or anyone official from the Embassy, can hear it. Important." her mother said. Uncle Julian nodded his emphatic agreement. She caught the imploring look in Eve's eyes. And realised this was indeed important. Part of what she was coming to think of as a sort of Adult Conspiracy which, by degrees, she was being initiated into.
"I'll teach you the words, if you like." Auntie Ruth said. "That was the version in my language. IsiZulu."
"Which is part of the reason to be careful where you sing it." Godsfather Julian said. "That's a seriously banned anthem at home. It's against the law to sing it. BOSS take the point of view that it's subversive, and any black person singing it is therefore guilty of a desire to overthrow the State and to rise in armed rebellion against their kind, just and fair rule by white people which is for their own good, as everybody knows the blacks are utterly incapable of governing themselves. Therefore we whites must assume the onerous burden of deciding what is right for them."
He shook his head.
"Some people are just ungrateful, aren't they? Unreasonable, too. And bull-headedly stupid, to risk at least six months in prison for singing a song which is... utterly unrealistic, at least."
Bekki shook her head, then realised Godsfather Julian was being, what was the word, sarcastic. Ironic. Where you heard one thing, but if you listened closely to the speaker and picked up the spill-words, you realised what they really meant and what they really believed in was the complete opposite.
"So you can go to prison. Just for singing a song?" Bekki asked, disbelieving.
"It's a powerful song." Auntie Ruth said. "And yes, if you're black and you get caught singing it, you go to prison. Gods know what they'd do to a white person who sang it in public."
Bekki now knew why Eve had looked so worried and frightened. She vowed to apologise to her later.
"That's never been tested before." Auntie Heidi said. She looked at Bekki, amused. "But somebody's got to be the first, I guess!"
"Why is it so serious?" Bekki asked, perplexed. "It's only a song!"
"Only a song." Auntie Ruth said, shaking her head. "Listen. It's about a Howondaland where everybody comes together as an equal. Where it doesn't matter what tribe you belong to. Where it doesn't matter what colour your skin is. If you're a Howondalandian, you belong. White, black or coloured. That's a big issue in your country, which doesn't exactly believe in these things."
And because Ruth was fundamentally honest, she added
"It's a big issue in my country too. We believe all Howondalandian peoples are equal and should live as equals in peace and prosperity. Even the whites. You're Howondalandian too. It's just that we believe all those equal people living in peace and prosperity and equality should at the same time accept that the Zulus are more equal than everybody else and the Paramount Royal House, which includes me, is the most equal of all, and should rule everybody in perpetuity. For their own good, naturally. My dear father is therefore First Among Equals and the rightful leader of all Howondaland. In which we Zulus are the most equal tribe."
Ruth shook her head, sorrowfully.
"It's amazing how many people aren't prepared to accept that completely reasonable and correct proposition. Starting with you lot."
Bekki realised Ruth could at least equal Godsfather Julian in terms of sarcasm and irony. They were indeed a well-matched couple. It was a real, horrible, shame that they couldn't be a well-matched couple where everybody could see it, not just among friends who they could completely trust with the secret. Bekki felt herself burning with the sheer unfairness of it.
She forced calm on herself. Something was telling her nine-year-old self that all this was valuable. That the adults around her were, little by little, trusting her with grown-up things and trusting her to be grown-up enough to treat it as important. She didn't want to betray that trust.
This was important, even if she didn't fully understand it. And she was learning how things really were in her other country, which fascinated her. She wanted to go there someday, perhaps not just for holidays…
She heard Mummy saying "By the way, Eve, I'd be really interested in finding out how Bekki came to speak so much of your language. That's more than I've ever been able to do!" in a friendly voice. She gathered Mummy was expressing approval, in a guarded way.
"As you wish, madam." Eve replied, neutrally. "Thank you for your understanding."
It was just another day in the Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons household…
And out there on the back lawn, under the eyes of friends and adults, Bekki fought a practice bout with dulled swords against her friend Davvie Bellamy. Like all the others, they were being gradually prepared for the transition to Big School. It was implicitly understood it would be the Assassins' School, where their mothers taught. Their mothers were therefore keen for them to be adequately prepared. Hence the informal lessons. Mummy also believed her daughter should get a grounding in some of the basic skills of self-defence and the intricacies of weapons handling because, well, these were useful life skills.
Several hours a week were set aside for tuition. Bekki and Davvie had to fit this around regular schooldays. The Convent School of Seven-Handed Sek, run by teaching nuns of the Spiteful Sisterhood, did not, as a rule, teach weapons drills.(4). It was good at a lot of things – Sister Mortifica, who taught languages, enthused at Bekki's wonderful ability in Quirmian which was absurdly ahead of her peers, and was starting her off in Toledan to see how she could get to grips with a related language – but it did not teach Bladed Weapons, Swords or Crossbows. There was an after-hours school archery team. Bekki had been approached to be a member.(5) But that was it. Weapons training had to be after-hours.
Bekki defended herself against another flurry of blows from Davvie. That was easy enough. She could guard, she could parry, she could block. No problem. But Davvie Bellamy was her friend. The idea of hitting her with a sword, even in a practice bout, was repugnant to her. She felt she just couldn't do it. Meanwhile Davvie had no such qualms about getting through Bekki's guard. Bekki thought Davvie was going to make a far better Assassin student than she ever would.
A little part of Bekki's head was remembering the night when she'd had to confront the Dungeon Dimension Things. That certainly hadn't been a dream. She knew that. She vividly remembered the people who had appeared to help. She understood that blood calls to blood. Somehow women in her family line had appeared to lend her a hand. She felt oddly privileged. Mummy had asked all sorts of questions about them and had seemed envious. But the Johanna Smith-Rhodeses past, the ones who had died, had somehow given her their collective sword-fighting skills for just long enough. Through the physical medium of a weapon they'd all carried, in their time. Bekki had felt the perfect exultation of being one with the weapon. She'd felt what a sword could do in the hands of somebody who knew how to use it. Four somebodies who had all wielded that blade in war. Plus, she suspected, something of her own mother. Mummy had put a lot of herself into that blade too, when it had been hers. There had been a lot of scattered bits of Thing on the black sand afterwards. Bekki had felt no guilt or moral qualms about killing them. None at all.
Bekki just wished all that had carried over into this world and remained with her. She still felt as awkward with a sword today as she ever had.
Aware of her friends Manni and Pippi calling encouragement, and of Famke shrieking things like "What are you waiting for? Hit her! Gods, Bekki, wake up!", and under the critical eye of her mother and Auntie Emmie, Bekki fought on as best she could. But the inevitable happened and she gratefully yielded the bout to Davvie.
"Your defence is a pig to get through, Beccs." Davvie said. She studied her friend with concern. "It always is. But, you know, you can hit me. It's allowed. I won't take offence, and that's the whole point, after all."
Auntie Emmie was kind about it. She always was. She repeated the thing about an impeccable and praiseworthy defence. But defence, ma petite, is only half the story and in itself does not win a contest. You must really learn to get over any qualms you have, and to attack. To see the weak point and go for it, sans pitié.
Mummy was blunter.
"You need to learn aggression." she said. "You are a gentle person like your father, and I love you for it, but being gentle does not win fights. Your sister has grasped this much. Now how can I teach you to be a violent, cruel and nasty old bitch like your mother?"
"Mummy!" Bekki said. "You're not cruel and nasty! Not at all!"
Her mother smiled. "But you aren't denying the other two, I notice."
Emmanuel-Martin de Lapoignard, one of three children born within a few weeks of each other and brought up together in neighbouring homes, joined them. Manni, not quite ten, was a dark-haired handsome boy with a ready smile, and the sort of eyes and personality that his mother suspected would be the downfall of respectable ladies as he grew older.(6) Bekki and Davvie, who occupied the position of sisters to him, were immune to this and just saw him as Manni, their lovely but sometimes irritating playmate from next door. His brother, a year younger, had the same status to them.
"You've got to work on your offence, Beccs." He said. His voice and manner was completely Morporkian. But he could switch to Quirmian in an instant. Bekki wondered if people thought that about her. Morporkian enough, but somebody who could just as easily switch codes and cultures to White Howondalandian and be indistinguishable from her mother's people. It was an interesting thought.
"You need to be able to go over to the attack. When you need to. And to do that at just the right moment. We can show you how."
Bekki nodded, feeling a little inadequate. She'd felt that keenly when the Dungeon Dimension things had pressed on her. She'd set up a defence that was like a castle wall. Like a Wizard's high tower, a voice in her head said. But until the Johannas had turned up in her time of need, she hadn't known how to attack. Then it had erupted from her. She really needed to know how to do this. She couldn't always count on long-dead ancestors to come to her rescue. Bekki suspected this wasn't the way it was going to work. That one time, in that place, where different rules applied, had been special. A one-off. no, she really needed to get over the inconvenient streak of niceness and learn to be more like Mummy. And like her great-aunt Johanna. And her great-great aunt Johanna. And her great-grandmother. Johanna. And her mother before her, the first Johanna Smith-Rhodes... it had to run in the family, after all. (7)
"Have you had a House assignment yet?" Davvie asked, changing the topic. Manni grinned. It was the sort of ready confident grin you liked to be close to.
"They've decided to send me to Mrs Beddowes'." Manni said. "Maman wants me to board. She says it'll be good for me. Beddowes because Monsieur le Balouard is Housemaster. He gets all the Quirmian boys. Makes administration easier if all the Quirmian-speakers go to the same place. And you two?"
"Mum doesn't want me boarding." Davvie said. "So I get to be a Day School pupil. It means I get to go home every night and sleep in my own bed. My brothers were Day School too. Mum insisted. Which means I get Mrs Mericet as my form-mistress." Davvie winced. Mrs Mericet was Joan Sanderson-Reeves. "What about you, Beccs?"
"Grandmother Joan isn't that bad!" Bekki said. The others raised eyebrows.
"You've never seen her as a teacher." Davvie said. "My big brothers both did. Tim and Martin both said never to get her annoyed. She eats you alive if you do."
"Grand-mère Joan." Manni said, thoughtfully. "I'd love to know how you got her as your grand-mère."
"Long story." Bekki said. "I think everybody else kind of forced her into it. But there could be worse grandmothers to have. At least I always get a really lovely birthday cake. Anyway. Mummy was in charge of Raven House for a long long time. So that's where I'll be going."
They talked about the Assassins' School for a while. All three had been told they would go there. Given who their mothers were, some things were both expected and seemingly inevitable. They expressed anticipation, trepidation and hope for their shared future.
And life continued for a while. Bekki had her tenth birthday, with a magnificent cake prepared by Grandmother Joan, and moved, day by day, to her eleventh.
And then her world came crashing down.
Lord Downey himself looked sorrowful and regretful.
"I'm so, so, sorry." he said. And he did indeed sound genuinely regretful. "We so looked forward to receiving Rebecka as a pupil. Great things were expected of a daughter of Doctor Smith-Rhodes."
He turned to Ponder Stibbons.
"There is no possibility of error, professor? No room for doubt, or for latitude in how we interpret the results of the test?"
Ponder sighed a great big resigned sigh. Next to him, Doctor Johanna Smith-Rhodes composed herself to accept the inevitable. But if she were honest with herself, she'd known this for quite some time.
"None whatsoever, sir. And given the candidate is my own daughter, I'm really not looking forward to having to break the news to her. There can be no room for doubt here. The standard tests in these circumstances were performed, and Miss Rebecka Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons has a very high score for latent magic, a score in the ninth decile for applied magical ability, and towards the top end of the scale for potential magic. Were she a boy, Unseen University would be offering her an instant scholarship."
"But she isn't a boy, professor." Downey observed.
Ponder sighed.
"No, sir. She isn't."
Downey heaved a resigned sigh.
"And the law is clear. There can be no such thing as a dual-qualified Assassin and magic user. Such a person would be too powerful and would present a massive danger if they went to the bad. The Patrician is emphatic on this."
He offered a consoling hand to Johanna.
"I'm as disappointed as you are, Doctor Smith-Rhodes. But we cannot now accept Rebecka to the Guild School. I'm so sorry."
The three sat in silence for a while. Then Downey said
"Your younger daughters?" in a hopeful voice.
"Famke is ebsolutely un-megical, my lord." Johanna said. Ponder nodded assent.
"We don't know ebout Ruth yet." Johanna added. There was now a third daughter in the household. Downey brightened up. Two out of three of Johanna's daughters… he spoke quickly, wanting to seal the deal.
"But, in principle, we would be delighted to accept Famke. Absolutely delighted. Can I proceed to pencil her in to Raven House for her expected year of entry?"
The parents agreed. Now they only had to break the bad news to Bekki and work out where else she could be educated…
To be continued…
(1) Apparently a wizard had been found dangling from a very high window by one ankle and screaming incoherently. Nobody seriously tried to target Ponder Stibbons after that. Mustrum Ridcully had asked "Just for the look of the thing, Johanna, m'dear. You weren't around the University at any time last night, were you?" Johanna had assured him that she had been assisting her colleague Miss Band with a night edificeering lesson. Another Assassin and thirty students could testify to that. And the Guild School never vectors intermediate classes in Edificeering onto the University rooftops, as you know, Arch-Chancellor. The magical hazards make it too dangerous for us, and it is held to be an un-necessary risk to pupils. Ridcully had grinned, said "jolly good, m'dear", and signed off the report with an emphatic flourish. "Assault by person or persons un-known."
(2) South African comic Casper de Vries does a routine about this. How Dutch and Flemish sound to somebody whose first language is Afrikaans and how quirky the European versions of a pretty much common language sound, when heard from Africa. OK, it's in Afrikaans, but listen carefully. Some of the humour is universal. The concept of "separated by a common language" is certainly in there.
(3) Danie Smith-Rhodes, a man disinterested in politics and whose life had hitherto held little of interest to BOSS, had developed a fatter BOSS file after emigrating to Ankh-Morpork and marrying Heidi van Kruger, a woman who did have a BOSS file. Danie had developed a passion for fifteen-a-side Llamedosian Rules Foot-and-Hand-the-Ball and his moment of subversion and sedition had been the exing and contentious issue of whether people with black skins could pay the game as the equals of white people. The idea of the Springboeks side (a team unkindly referred to by the snarky as The All-Whites) playing against a team drawn from Black Howondalandians, for instance, with the danger that they might actually lose the game, had been vetoed by BOSS as injurious to the entire philosophy of apartheid. Never mind the idea of the Bokkies actually fielding a black player. Danie had lost patience and told BOSS to go and voetsaak itself. This was Ankh-Morpork. Different laws applied here. And to his mind, if a fellow was good enough to play, he played. On the field and one of the fifteen, he was a bro. Danie had pointed out that the Foggy Islands team had coloured players in it. We play them twice a season. if the Zulus want to put up a side, we play them too. You people can sort out the politics of it. We'll get on with the game. Liutnant Verkramp had quietly vowed to get Danie Smith-Rhodes. however long it took. The Smith-Rhodes family, without any undue fuss, was quietly spitting on its hands and getting ready for a fight. Watch this space for updates.
(4) That's if you disregarded the yard-long wooden ruler brandished by Sister Flagellata.
(5) Godsmother Alice was teaching her how to use bows, and Mummy had been instructing Bekki in use of crossbows. Alice Band was pleased with Bekki's competence, but remarked that "she goes all to pieces when she has to loose at a human target. You know, the ones that have a human shape painted on them. Just can't do it. But show her the competition target with the rings on it. Outer, inner, bullseye. Really good scores. She's fitter than a lot of my students at the Guild School. So she can do it. And do it well. She just seems to have a hang-up about firing arrows at people. Even a painted target of a person. That could be a serious drawback if she enrols at the School when she's eleven!" Johanna had seen the same when teaching Bekki to use a crossbow. She agreed that this was a thing her daughter should get over. She was just blowed as to how.
(6) And, as he would happily discover in later life, many not-quite-as-respectable ladies. His mother was aware of this, and was already resigning herself to the idea that women would be très susceptible to the charms of her sons. Which would, most assuredly, bring complications in its wake. She was wondering what to do about this. It was a situation that required thought. And forward planning, Better to be warned now.
(7) Igors would respect the naming convention involved. Family tradition had it that there must be a Johanna Smith-Rhodes in every generation of the Family and this distinction fell on the first girl to be born. If only at most two Johannas were alive at any one time this wasn't too big a problem. But Bekki had called a situation into being that had the power to get a little bit confusing, if it wasn't for the fact that every Johanna Smith-Rhodes knew perfectly well who she was and who all the others were. The Igor/Igorina thing...
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.
I know. I wanted something "Phlegmish" in the way of children's stories that Annaliese could give to Bekki. And what could be more Belgian than Hergé's creation Tintin? Call him Cancan and give him a Discworld alternate, who preserves the essential Belgian-ness of it. Only... Hergé scripted the books in FRENCH and expressly not in Flemish. Damn. Any Flemish-Blgian cartoon characters out there I could use?