Strandpiel 34: Besprekings - discussions
We're back! Taking an unexpectedly darker turn with warclouds looming – but all to set the scene for Bekki arriving in Howondaland, which will be soon. Continuing the logic of the story from the last episode which is now apparently becoming a mighty saga of interlocked family and friends on two continents, not just about Bekki. Again first imprint, will revise for typos.
Wafa-Wafa, Smith-Rhodesia. Seearende Barracks.
"You'd better keep this quiet." Mariella Smith-Rhodes observed, as she turned the iconographs over in her hands and cross-referenced them to the meticulously drawn plan that had been made from them. Hans "Crowbar" Dreyer grinned a happy smile, as of a special forces commander who has got it all worked out to his satisfaction.
"It worked, though." he said, grinning broadly. "Took a lot of arranging. Had to call in favours."
Marriella frowned the deepest frown she could safely give to a senior General.
"You got hold of a magic carpet. And a pilot-for-hire. Then you flew it over the Zulu Empire by night and took iconographs. The ones with the special infra-octarine flash."
Mariella considered the iconographs again. They were lit up in an eerie green radiance that made everything stand out as if it had been photographed in daylight, albeit in a strange green sort of daylight.
"The Klatchians don't like that sort of thing." she said. "Their technomancy being hijacked for military use. Well, other people's military use. When the Zulus work it out, they'll blame the Klatchians. The Klatchians will then protest to us. And don't we have standing orders strictly prohibiting any incursion into Zulu land, without specific and exceptional permission from the highest level?"
The Crowbar grinned.
"The wording of the standing order expressly prohibits incursions into the Zulu Empire by land or sea, ja." He agreed. "It says nothing about going in from the air. Believe me, I checked."
He grinned again.
"Besides, Sproet, you've crossed the border a time or two yourself."
Mariella breathed out.
"Ja." she agreed. "But either with express and understood permission from the highest levels, or else on Guild contracts, where no other authority is needed."
"Or else in self-defence during a fight." her occassional boss reminded her. "That's allowed. You can't break off a firefight just because you've crossed the border."
Mariella turned back to the iconographs and the plan drawn from them.
"This was an incredibly risky thing to do." she reminded him. "What if you'd been attacked? Shot down? Ran out of magic two hundred miles inside their territory? Been seen in daylight?"
"Ag, I'd have made a plan." the Crowbar said, shrugging. "And I accept the shouting-at that I'm going to get from you. Going myself was wrong and irresponsible and could have caused a headache if I'd been killed or captured. But the way I see it, Sproet. Why should my junior operating officers get all the fun? I can't sit in an office forever."
"And you wanted to see for yourself." Mariella said. "Ruth's base. So you took a pilot and a flight-wizard and you took the iconographs yourself. Ag!"
Mariella turned her attention to the plan of the Lionesses' Den.
"Big kraal. Grew from nearly nothing very quickly. Nearby river and lake provides a water source. Strategically located for fast communications with the Royal Kraal. As near to centrally located in the Empire as Ruth can find, so it's hard to get to from our border or from the coast. Now more of a town, in fact."
"I estimate getting on for four thousand people, now." the Crowbar said. "Only half of those are fighting soldiers. But you've seen it yourself, Sproet. Any military barracks develops into a town after a while. Wives. Well, husbands, in this case. Children. Supporting industries."
He pointed to distinctive features on the plan and iconographs.
"Triple wall on the kraal. She wants a clear distinction between inside and outside. The three gates are staggered. Go in through the main gate, you do a quarter-turn inside before getting to the middle gate. Then another quarter-turn to the inner gate. So you can't just slam through all three in one rush. Looks like she's using stone for the guard-houses, or at least brick. That's new. And I've never seen a Zulu kraal before with watchtowers. Defensive ditch being dug round the outer wall. That's new too. Sproet, this would be a bliksem to capture."
"And all the interesting stuff is here, in the central compound." Mariella observed. "Closely guarded and defended."
She pointed out several long, low, rectangular buildings, clearly not of Zulu design.
"This has got to be the manufacturing plant she's set up." Mariella observed. "Looks like the sort of glorified shed you see in Ankh-Morpork. Where things get made."
"In this case, crossbow bolts and arrows." The Crowbar agreed. "And we think she's gone a step beyond that, Sproet. Word out of Ankh-Morpork is that she's contracted armourers to set things up for her. Quite a few fellows from the Guild of Armourers – and their families – have dissappeared from the city. Well. Not dissappeared as such. They've accepted contracts to work abroad in a well-paid, low-or-no-tax, job. She's making weapons, Sproet. That's serious. Up till now the Zulus have been dependent on what they capture in war, what the Klatchians dole them, or what they can buy on the open markets in the arms trade. That limits everything, like the quality of the weapons and even getting an adequate supply of ammo. Another reason why they've never been good at projectile weapons. Till now. If they get a weapons industry of their own to make crossbows and other stuff, that's worrying. I'd quite like that stopped."
Mariella very carefully did not discuss the implications of this. She continued studying the plans.
"A large huis, here. Not Zulu design. It even has a lawn."
"Ja. Seperated away from the rest of the settlement. That has to be the Princess's home address. She lived in Ankh-Morpork for long enough to appreciate living like a native. Shame we can't attack that. The powers-that-be have vetoed any direct move on the Princess herself. Scared if we do, it starts the war. The big one. But we can do other things."
Crowbar Dreyer pointed out a cluster of homes in between the first and second walls of the kraal. They also seemed subtly different from Zulu dwellings.
"Her contract labour lives here. The way I see it, an attack here. To show she can't guarantee the safety of the skilled workforce she's imported from the Central Continent. They get scared. Go home to Ankh-Morpork. Bad news spreads. She loses the people she's got to make her weapons and to train Zulus to make them. Puts a crimp in her plans."
Mariella looked at him. She had realised, slowly and unwillingly, that the Army commander she looked up to, admired and respected, the man who had nurtured her progress in the military, the man she would have wilingly followed anywhere, had a deeply ingrained streak of sociopathic ruthlessness. It was deeply disconcerting. She also knew, deep inside, that being ordered to deliberately target non-combatants, even if their husbands and parents were working for the Zulus and therefore legitimate targets to a certain mind, was an order too far. Even if the Guild of Assassins might describe this as extreme prejudice. Mariella had decided early on that she was never going to do extreme prejudice. Her sister Johanna had done this once and still felt guilty about it, a long time further on. It was a big blot on her sister's psyche and something that still haunted her. Mariella had determined not to go the same way.
"A terrorist attack." she said, flatly. "on civilians."
"Ja. Why not? Spread a bit of useful terror. And these people chose to work for the Zulus. They're not innocent."
"Even their wives and children?" Mariella said, tartly. She looked at him and realised that he was being deadly serious.
Crowbar Dreyer dodged this.
"We can also go for her military advisors." He said. "Is that ethically acceptible to you, Sproet? The women she's got from places with military history, like Zlobenia and Borogravia. And from the Academies at Quirm and Sto Lat. The ones teaching her troops to think and fight like Central Continent soldiers. BOSS have got to be useful for something. They've promised me a list and some basic intelligence."
Mariella considered this. Not everybody in BOSS was a useless clown or an empty ideologue. BOSS was also her nation's intelligence-gathering and spy network in the world. Its best people were good: the Dark Clerks of Rimwards Howondaland.
"So. What you want is to insert people by night. A deniable attack to set Devices in the manufacturing sheds and to destroy her armoury. All the weapons she won against the Muntabians and all the ammunition for them. Risky, Crowbar. You're forgetting she's got a lot of graduate Assasins on her payroll and they'll be her first line of defence against something like this."
"You've done it before, Sproet." Crowbar reminded her. Mariella breathed out.
"Ja, but the Klatchians weren't looking out for that sort of approach. Ruth's an Assassin. She will be prepared. And I tell you, Crowbar. Attack her and she'll come back against us. Her position and her status actively demand that. And I happen to know that when Ruth is pissed off, you have got to arm for tigers. You know? When she works out what the strange flashes in the sky were overhead, and she will, you're going to find it a lot harder to get any more flights over her base. And she's likely to try some sort of counter-attack. Just to make the point. This can only escalate."
"Could you do it?" he asked, pressing the point. "Get in there and plant Devices?"
Mariella frowned.
"Fifty-fifty. No guarantee of success. None at all. I'll think about it and make a few plans. But if I'm caught doing it with no escape route, I'm dead. Which is not something any Assassin likes to contemplate."
"Know anyone who could?" the Crowbar asked, hopefully. Mariella thought.
"There's one of us who might. If the money was right. And she isn't Rimwards Howondalandian, so there wouldn't be an international incident if she was discovered. You could argue she's a freelance mercenary just in it for the money. I could ask if she wants to come in as a consultant. And be warned, Crowbar. If she thinks it's impossible – then it's impossible."
Crowbar Dreyer frowned.
"And the sort of money she asks is going to strain the budget. You know, the one for freelance consultants." he said. Mariella looked sceptical. The money was usually provided for Crowbar Dreyer, who delivered.
"Can't help that." she said. "If you want the best, you pay the price. I'll go ahead and ask Rivka, shall I?"
Crowbar Dreyer nodded assent.
"Okay. But let me run this other plan past you first..."
The Kraal of the Ingonyamakazi, The Zulu Empire.
"Such a shame my half-brother was too busy to accept the invitation to be my guest." Ruth N'Kweze said, to the visiting iNduna. "But be assured, General, you and your escort are my guests in my kraal and you are welcome here."
Ruth smiled at the visiting dignitary, who commanded the army corps loyal to one of her half-brothers, the Crown Prince who was one of the front-runners to succeed their father as Paramount King. He had arrived with several junior officers and a small escort and had been announced at the gate. Ruth had heard the news that the uSothagu corps had marched and was going to be conducting "field exercises" a day or two's march from the Lionesses' Den. She had recognised a threat when it was being made to her. An unsubtle threat, but a threat nonetheless. Without any great fuss, the Lionesses had been instructed to carry on with normal duties and training for now, but to be prepared.
She was showing the visiting delegation everything. Well, nearly everything. And making sure the fifty or so fighting soldiers who were escorting their officers also got to see everything they were shown. With a bit of luck they'd go back to the ranks and stories would spread among the troops, growing in the telling.
She smiled again. The men who were escorting appeared nervous and possibly even a little bit intimidated by being among so many confident and capable women soldiers, whose attitude to their male peers was one of good-natured condescenscion. For now. Also good.
They were on the wide plain outside the kraal used for training exercises. This was a risk, Ruth knew, as there could be a strike force of the uSothagu out there, biding its time. But there were a lot of Lionesses out here, going about routine training. Besides, their father, the Paramount King, had issued dire warnings about the King's peace and what would happen to anyone who broke it, by for instance setting their impis on the impis of another Prince. Or Princess. She thought even her idiot half-brother wouldn't be so crazy as to fire the first shots in what would then become a civil war. His General looked distinctly uneasy at the prospect. She was working on this and providing lots of good reasons as to why the uSothagu corps should do nothing more out here than field manouevres. She had discreet scouts out, watching them. Eight thousand spears within two days' march was not a thing to discount. Even if its General was here, a man whose body language and unspoken words suggested he was deeply uneasy and looking for a peaceful way out. And their General was currently, effectively, her hostage. That worked too.
"Princess, what is the purpose of this?" the General asked, politely. He indicated the roughly human-sized effigies erected on the plain, in ranks laid out to look like an impi deployed for war. Some were dummies, others were cut-outs in plywood based on the Central Continent model.
"A demonstration, General." she said. "Observe."
Her arm gesture took in the seemingly random scattering of large rocks on the ground. Ruth raised her spear. Orders were relayed. Then oxen, beasts of burden, were driven forward and halted behind the Lioness soldiers who were ranked as a protective screen. The members of the Youth and Recruit impi who had driven them forward then began unpacking large baulks and sub-assemblies in wood and metal, whose purpose was immediately unclear. A white-skinned officer, an indunula, detailed other soldiers to assist and supervised the assembly.
The dignitaries watched as the wood and metal contraption took shape with surprising speed.
"In the Central Continent, this has the name of a pierrete." Ruth explained. "My indunala, Marianne de Menières, formerly served as an engineering officer in the Quirmian army. As even today commissions for female officers are hard to come by in parts of the Central Continent, and Lord Vetinari has seen to it that there are less wars there and thus less opportunity for fighting soldiers, she was happy to bring her expertise here."
A second, and then a third, pierette was quickly erected. The prefabricated parts took remarkably little time to assemble. They took the form of a long, well-balanced, beam whose fulcrum rested on two high trunnions on a frame. A net dangled from one end of the beam, and lots of ropes hung down from the corresponding end. At the order of Captain de Menieres, sixteen women took station at one end and took a rope each, eight arrayed along each side. A very large rock was placed in the net at the other. This end of the beam dropped under the weight and the other end rose.
"Attention! Tenez!" the Captain called. Each of the sixteen women on each rope on each pierrete took stations and pulled their ropes taut. They braced. The captain looked expectantly at her iNduna.
Noting she had the full attention of her visitors, Ruth smiled, lifted her spear, and let her arm fall.
"Tirez!"
Forty-eight bodies pulled down in perfect unison in a well-practiced drill. The Lionesses cheered as the bombardment began. The first stones fell short or long, but the Captain ordered slight adjustments. Soon large stones were crashing in among the target dummies and smashing the ranks of the enemy impi to splinters of rag, straw and plywood.
Ruth smiled at the visting General.
"The simplest form of siege catapult there is." she said. "It requires no mechanisms other than human strength. Quick to build, easy to maintain, easy to raise trained crews. If the current crew tires, another sixteen soldiers may be detailed to take over. And rocks are everywhere."
As the bombardment slackened, Ruth raised her spear again and pointed in a different direction. Then her cavalry came, small wiry women from a semi-desert region, born to the horse. They charged on the remnants of the target impi and began throwing javelins. Others, riding larger slower horses, followed up. They were armed with lances and horsebows.
Ruth smiled. Setting up eight hundred targets had taken time and many would be smashed beyond salvage. But only a handful still stood. And most of those had crossbow bolts and javelins perforating them.
The final detail was to loose her infantry to clean up. They demonstrated the classic horns-of-the-bull manoevre, spreading and circling. After a while, as the dust settled, no target remained standing. Anywhere.
"A whole impi, General. I estimate destroying it took twenty-seven minutes. Admittedly the real thing would be more mobile than that. But we can adjust for range. And light cavalry can move faster than infantry."
She let this sink in, and said "Shall we return to my kraal and I can offer you lunch? I'm sure you will report back accurately to my brother as to what you just witnessed."
Praying they wouldn't realise that at the moment, she only actually had three catapults and three fully trained artillery teams, Ruth led the way back to the kraal, leaving soldiers to perform the necessary housekeeping on the training ground.
Lancre, the skies above Hobley's:-
Bekki flew a little higher, enjoying the spring day and the clean air. She felt the nearby turbulence in the air and heard the flapping wings, a steady confident beat. A horse neighed in the exultation of flight.
She wanted to whoop with pleasure, but steadied her broomstick against the turbulence. It wouldn't be long, now. At first she'd taken Boetjie up on a long lead, tethered to her broomstick, beginning the careful process of weaning him from his mother and getting him habituated to being in the air with her, controlled by leading reins. Now she realised the training lead wasn't necessary. He'd follow her anywhere and not stray too far. And he was growing, fast and strong. The next stage would be getting him used to tack. The specialised saddle for a Pegasus would have to wait till he was fully grown. But her foal, more of a colt now, was easily three times the size he'd been at birth. Pegasii grew fast to maturity.
Arrangements had been made. Shortly after the Witch Trials and her sixteenth birthday, Boetjie would travel to Ankh-Morpork with her. He'd be stabled at the Air Police station. Bekki – and Sophie – would then undergo what promised to be the utterly dreadful recruit training in the Watch. She'd seen Sergeant Detritus. And Fred Colon. Twelve weeks. Bekki had hoped to be able to stay at home and commute in. Her mother had squashed that one. Mum had said that your sister Famke was made to board at the Guild School for a purpose. To get her used to surviving away from home and to fully immerse her in what it means to be a Guild student. Wellnow. Your turn, I think. In two years time it is possible you will be doing National Service in the Army. That's twenty-two weeks living in barracks with no possibility of local leave. Best you get a taster of this now, even if the City Watch is only mildly military. To prepare you. You will therefore live like any other Watch recruit for those twelve weeks, in their barracks, even though your home is only a short journey across the City. You will thank me for this, Rebecka. Trust me.
Well, I'll deal with that when it happens. And it's only three months.
The Kraal of the Ingonyamakazi, The Zulu Empire.
Ruth had wished her guests safe journey back to their unit and conveyed her best wishes to her brother, hoping the reports his General would no doubt bring would provide him with ample food for thought.
She smiled slightly to herself. Sinbothwe was an idiot and a fool. But he had a good general who now realised he was outclassed and who in any case was extremely reluctant to start a civil war. The Great Paramount King would have a short way with those who broke the peace of the Empire. Which included errant Generals. Ruth also reflected that her husband should have got her message by now. Denizulu commanded six thousand spears. She could count on him to make up the numbers if any serious trouble broke out. Added deterrent.
She began running the various power-plays in her mind. About the only Paramount Princes she could think of who didn't harbour the illusion that they might get the throne were her brothers Clement, who genuinely didn't want it, and Isiwula, who actually did seem to be happy in his role of Crown Prince Responsible for Sweeping Up The Royal Buffalo Droppings.(1). Ruth contemplated the idea of a Paramount King Isiwula emerging by default after his more powerful and ambitious brothers had eliminated each other. The idea made her smile. She'd heard about Walter Plinge at the Opera House, or at least as he had been. King Walter. Maybe with the right advisors behind the Throne... then she added No, wouldn't be fair on the poor soul. He's happy with his broom and shovel and the buffalo seem to like him.
Then she decided the six or seven ones with a good realistic chance needed watching. And perhaps a dozen or so behind them who had the ambition but not the ability. And the malevolence to lash out if they were frustrated. Prince Inyoka Emnyama,(2) for instance. A poisonous wart with links to the College of Witch-Finders.
She sighed.
"You know, Sissi, if my father had bothered to nominate somebody to be his Great Wife, so her son is automatically heir, it would clear a lot of things up."
"The Paramount King, long may he live, can never have too many wives nor can he have too many strong sons." Sissi said, automatically. You never knew who was listening.
"Sons, certainly." Ruth sighed. "And in one crucial and important sense, he only needs one."
"His sons have been dying lately in a series of regrettable accidents." Sissi observed. "Some of which came as a surprise to us. May your half-brother, the Crown Prince Sinbothwe, not suffer any sort of regrettable mishap."
Ruth heard the unspoken question, which was "Shall I arrange one for him?"
"May he remain whole and capable of reflective thought." Ruth replied. Which meant "No, not for now. Father quite likes the sod." She aslso reflected that if her half-brother were to have any sort of little accident after today's face-off, it wouldn't take their father too long to work out who had ordered it. Best to let him wait for a while. Father's favourite sons, the ones he nurtured and indulged and would definitely miss if any died prematurely, would take different handling.
Then there was growing commotion outside. Not greatly so; just a change in the normally muted sounds of everyday activity in a community of getting on for four thousand people. The background noise was getting louder and conveyed a sussuration of astonishment and some alarm. Ruth stood, and reached for weapons. She heard Sissi calling orders to the guard, then followed her trusted and closest lieutenant outside. A guard fell in behind and to either side as they left the house. But everybody was looking up...
The white horse was about two hundred feet up, performing several slow and stately circuits of the compound. Its wings beat lazily against the sly, occassionally pausing and riding on a thermal. Ruth shouted orders to some of her soldiers who were pointing crossbows upwards. She was glad they were alert and had the presence of mind to do this; but she also knew what would happen if you shot at one of those horses. The riders got a bit annoyed, for one thing. She'd seen this at the Tobacco Farm. And Vetinari would also have things to say.
"There is no danger. Stay alert, but do not shoot!"
"That's new." Sissi observed. "They usually only call at the Royal Kraal. Where the Embassies are and where our government is."
"Indeed." Ruth agreed. The horse was coming in to land now. "From what I've heard, Vetinari sometimes orders the pilots to stray off agreed flight-paths. To see what's going on, so as to report back. Is that two circuits or three that pilot has made now?"
"Three." Sissi confirmed. "Ample to get a picture of what there is here. But she's coming into land now. I believe the pilot is Sergeant Politek?"
"The second-in-command." Ruth confirmed. "They tend not to send Olga on flights to the Empire these days. Not after marriage confirmed White Howondalandian citizenship on her. That raises issues." She turned and called instructions to a domestic servant, who was watching the muti of the flying horse with some awe. The servant bowed and ran back to the house.
"Tea, with three sugars." Ruth confirmed. "I'll have to get a samovar in, if we're going to get regular visits. You have to be hospitable to guests."
Irena Politek executed a pretty good four-point landing. She wasn't surprised to find herself ringed by lots of intent-looking Zulu soldiers who weren't quite pointing their assegais at her. But the intent was clear. She unhurriedly dismounted, and stood by her Pegasus to await what came next. She studied the soldiers. Apart from being female, they were fairly typical Zulu infantry. She noted the assegais and the knobkerries, as well as the large machete-like swords which her breifing said only officers carried. Minimal uniform, with dyed feathers in their head-dresses. She registered the repeating colours of green and white, and recalled these were the House colours of Tump House, at the Assassins' Guild School. Apparently Ruth had ordered her impis to carry AGS house colours as a distinguishing mark, as some sort of private amusement. Ruth had been in Tump House, governed by Alice Band. Green and white denoted her most trusted troops.
The green-and-white motif also recurred in the breast-bindings the women wore, a sort of bandeau bra arrangement. Irena could see the logic of this. If you were running around a lot and fighting, you didn't want things to bounce too much. It could get painful and get in the way. And it also looked pretty stylish, she had to say. The sort of thing an Assassin might think of. Both functional and attractive.
Irena remained silent as the ring of soldiers parted, and the woman she was here to speak to walked forward. She remembered her briefing.
"Bayede." she said, and then bowed, as befitted a Witch. Strictly speaking she should have prostrated herself before the Paramount Crown Princess, but she was a Witch, and she was buggered if she was ever going to do that. To any royal, anywhere. Best to make it clear what the rules were.
Ruth smiled back. There was a low whispering among the soldiers. It sounded affronted. The Paramount Crown Princess smiled, lifted her hand for silence, then addressed her troops.
"They believe you are not showing me sufficient respect." Ruth remarked. "You are expected to prostrate yourself on the ground, or at the very least, to kneel and bow your head."
"They can dream on." Irena replied.
Ruth nodded.
"I have explained to the troops that you are a powerful Witch and a user of muti. You are from a different land where different rules apply. And that the bow from the waist, coming from a Witch, is a mark of the greatest respect, and that no insult was intended. Besides, I suspect that's the most I'll ever get from you, and I'm not inclined to push it."
Ruth smiled and stepped forward. She clasped Irena's hand, friend to friend.
"Kettle's on." she said. "Fancy a cup of tea?"
The sense of menace faded as the Princess was seen to escort the strange foreign witch-woman into her home. Without anyone actually saying so, it was understood that the visitor had the favour of the Princess despite her appalling act of impoliteness in not prostrating herself. Besides, she was clearly a witch, she controlled the magnificent flying horse, and nobody cared to piss off a witch. There were several wise-women, isangomas, among the wider community, and nobody cared to annoy an isangoma. They weren't as malevolent as the Witch-Finders, not by a long way, but they still controlled the mysterious and terrible force of muti.
Irena retrieved a satchel of documents from a pannier, and asked where the stables were, as she didn't want to leave her mount out in the open for too long on a hot day in Howondaland. Ruth issued instructions for fodder and water to be brought, and the Pegasus was cared for to Irenan's satisfaction. The press of people who had swarmed out to witness the magnificent flying horse parted as it was led to the cavalry barracks. Then Princess and Witch walked back to the house, talking together in Morporkian about mutual friends in {{Stone Kraal Reeks Of Incontinent Creatures Of All Sorts}}.
"Okay." Ruth said. Sissi was guarding the door. She and Irena were sitting in the lounge with cups of tea. It was a fairly relaxed conversation. So far. "Normally this goes by secure Guild mail to the Royal Kraal. Precious Jewel collects and signs for it. Then she makes sure it gets to me via a really trustworthy courier. As you deliver it there, I'm under no illusions. Vetinari gets an idea of what's being said. I work around that. It's understood. But today you've delivered it direct. Which also gives you a good chance to look at my kraal from above. What else has changed?"
Irena took her time in replying. She said
"You've read the official letter from Vetinari? There was one for your father, too. A longer one."
Vetinari's letter had congratulated her on her pregnancy and expressed hope that a child who would grow up as a Prince or Princess would be educated in Ankh-Morpork, so as to inculcate a cosmopolitan outlook on the world. Ruth had interpreted this as meaning if your child stands a good chance of eventually becoming Paramount King, then we want a say in their education.
Vetinari had also congratulated her on creating a highly efficient military force, one that had made a decisive input into the Muntabian fighting. He had noted that it was growing larger and more potent seemingly by the day. He had said he would watch the Lioness Corps with interest as it grew. Ruth had not been comforted or reassured by this.
"Yes." Ruth said. "I read it."
Irena nodded.
"And – I'm not prying here – you got the mailing from Johanna? She might have hinted at a few things, that she can't say more explicitly and directly."
"Yes. She's my friend. But she's also White Howondalandian."
Johanna's letter had been about family and friends. She'd also taken care to enclose clippings from the Ankh-Morpork papers about the explots of the Lioness Impi. Most had been meticuluously and closely clipped out from the papers. Except one. This hadn't been as carefully clipped out as the rest and had somehow carried a lot of a full-page advert on the reverse side, advertising something called Slime's Liniment, a sovereign remedy against muscle pain. The very large headline from the advert had been left intact. It read WATCH YOUR BACK!
Julian – and she ached for him – had politely congratulated her on the coming child. He too had, very pointedly, enclosed lots of clippings and comments from the White Howondalandian papers. Ruth was described here as "highly dangerous" and "an implacable enemy" and some of the comments pages were speculating as to what should be done about her. Quite belligerently so. Ruth had grasped this point too.
"Neither of them can say it explicitly." Irena said. "But they're warning you that there are people out to get you. What if – and this is only speculation, you understand – some of the people who are going to be ordered to come out and get you are actually related to Johanna and Julian? That means they've both got conflicting loyalties."
"That would not surpise me." Ruth admitted. "Apparently, Mariella's settling in to being a farmer's wife on the other side of Rimwards Howondaland. With only residual ties to the Guild. Or apparently so."
"Mariella? You think?"
"Point taken." Ruth conceded.
"Okay. I'm not telling you everything Vetinari said to your father. He did express a hope that while your father will undoubtedly live a long time yet, now is a capital time to clear up uncertainty concerning the sucession. We're all agreed that's a good thing? He also assured your father that a couple of half-brothers of yours who have been exiled in disgrace for recent indiscretions are being adequately looked after in Ankh-Morpork, while their requests for asylum are being processed..."
Irena grinned slightly. She nodded at Sissi.
"I'm not going to ask how their entire familes ended up on tramp-ships taking the slow road back to the Circle Sea."
"That was the merciful way." Sissi said. "In former times the whole family could have been executed for the misdeeds of the father."
Ruth nodded.
"Some people think that's being too soft and too bleeding-heart liberal. Crime and punishment not what it used to be in the old days. But I'm not murdering children, Irena. Even if their fathers are a right royal pain in the arse. They're still my nephews and nieces, and besides..."
Ruth patted her stomach.
Irena nodded, understandingly.
"Three months gone, now, isn't it, Ruth?"
Ruth nodded.
"Half of Johanna's letter was a long list of all the things that make life horrible and uncomfortable when you're pregnant. In a lot of detail. I suspect she was rubbing it in."
Irena smiled.
"If you were a sadistic murderous evil bitch without a conscience, I wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation with you. But listen. Vetinari also put a proposition to your father. Your father has, I believe, accepted. Vetinari noted that a significant number of skilled people have left Ankh-Morpork and the Central Continent to work for you. There's quite a big expat community here, in this place. He therefore thinks it fitting that there should be an Ankh-Morporkian Consulate established here, to represent their interests."
Ruth looked at Sissi.
"Basically, his agents keeping a close eye on what goes on here, and reporting back." Ruth said. Irena smiled.
"Yes. Spies. But if your father agrees and commands it... oh, you'll get a regular Pegasus flight coming in, so that's not completely bad news. My advice is to accept. And think about it. If there's a capable bastard in White Howondaland with an intention to launch a raid to wreck what you've got here. Imagine if the collateral damage in a big raid includes foreign nationals and a diplomatic mission? I should imagine not even Crowbar Dreyer is going to be able to walk out of that one with his job intact. Vetinari's giving you an insurance policy, as pay-off for getting his spies in place. And above all. He doesn't want a war starting."
Ruth considered this. She nodded.
"Okay. Who do I get as consul?" she asked.
Irena smiled.
"Vetinari suggested a capable high-flyer in Palace service. Somebody with a thinking brain. How do you feel about Sharon Higgins?"
"Dark Clerk. Guild trained. So she'll be reporting to the Palace and the Guild. And I know her. Sissi knows her. Tell Vetinari she's acceptible?" Ruth said.
"Good. It was that or a Selachii, Vetinari said."
There was another meaningful pause. Ruth made some thinking time by refilling the teacups.
"I'll bring you a spare samovar." Irena offered. "I hear you've got a Cossack or two working with your cavalry? Great people, Cossacks. They're just not completely at home about women riding with the sotnia as equals. Some old-time attitudes."
Ruth grinned. Cossacks were some of the best horsemen in the world. They just had a thing about horsewomen. Her agents had taken advantage of this.
"Anyway." Irena said. "Can't help thinking that you're wide-open to being attacked from the air. Have you thought about that? If I can fly a few circuits to get an idea of what's on the ground, and all you've got are people hopefully pointing crossbows up, you can't stop me doing that. It would take a lucky shot. If I'd had an iconograph machine, I could have been taking pictures all day, or at least till the imps ran out of paint."
Ruth looked at Sissi. They both remembered, at the same time. Green flashes in the night...
Ruth explained about this. Irena nodded. "Night-flash. Specially bred imps. Somebody was taking pictures. You'd better watch that. Now they know what to look for - magic carpets with barrels full of Agatena Fireclay. Light the fuse, roll it off the back, boom. Or larger carpets with fighting soldiers on. They land, attack, get picked up again afterwards. Special forces. I'd work on my anti-air defences."
Later in the day, Ruth called an indaba, a conference of senior officers. They discussed defences. She winced at one possible solution. It involved people she didn't like and preferred to keep at arm's length. But it was the best solution. For now.
More to come!
(1) Ruth had a lot of half-brothers. There were only a limited number of royal appointments. And Iisiwula was liked, or at least quietly understood by everyone to be a nice sort of guy. Just a bit… limited… in what he could do. No threat. It would be like kicking a puppy.
(2). OK. Google Translate offered this as a translation of "Black Adder". Not sure how good it is, though.
Extract from pm to reader syed:
good points! The paradox/inconsistency/sexism of wizardry being fully accepted and even having its own school of study at the local university - whilst witchcraft is illegal under an archaic law from the old witch-burning days in the Central Continent - is something I have in mind to explore. Olga and Eddie, who spend part of their week in RH and commute via Pegasus, will be involved. (and the twins, who'd be pushing three by this stage in the tale). Olga is an RH citizen by marriage - and also a Witch. How she gets around being illegal is to be dealt with later. I've hit on the Sekkian attitude to witches earlier - Mother Superior discussed the Scriptures and why she thinks they're absolute tosh - so the sisterhood of nuns will reappear, as well as their method of challenging/ignoring apartheid law in their missions in RH. Nuns, like witches, make their own way in life and are a formidable sisterhood with worldwide branches. Bekki may find there are already covert witches in town, or at least formidable women who dress in black and make a profession of benevolent interference.
let's see... Bekki still has a few months on this continent. She'll have her sixteenth birthday and have to do recruit Watch training. She will spend more time training Boetjie. Then to stay in RH, initially with Aunt Mariella and Uncle Horst. Who by then will be dealing with bigger issues still. Bekki will discover that while she has yet to acquire a taste for alcohol, she's good with wine in the same way Tiffany is good with cheese. There appears to be no way of stopping this sort of thing emerging in witches. Haven't yet worked out what the viniculture equivalent of Horace the Cheese will be. But ideas are forming. Maybe an eventful stay at her grandparents. And after that... also more on why the College of Witch-Finders is the magically-inclined counterpart of BOSS and how magic works for Black Howondaland. There are, as Bekki will discover, witches there too, but "invisible" ones.
Also reading a history of the Zulu Wars, Donald R. Morris. The Washing of the Spears. In depth, full of useful stuff about the rise and fall of the Zulu Empire on our world, lots of material about Zulu laws and customs, the tense history of the Zulus', and other Southern African tribes', interactions with their British and Dutch neighbours. Really recommended.