Strandpiel 47
Katte in die Nag
Here we go again... the latest chapter of the monster saga of inter-related family and friends on two continents. Still looking to bring it to some sort of a natural close... might take a while yet... as always, first draft for publication. Revisions will happen later. And even then I'll still miss something.
Got hold of some boerewois from a local butcher who spreads his sourcing very far and wide. I was most impressed. Ankh-Morpork would decry this as a strange foreign sausage with not enough fat, gristle or sawdust in it and too much meat. Call that a sausage? Bloody foreign food stinking the place out. But another good reason to change my nationality, if only by physically absorbing the foodstuffs, to South African. Milktart is good, too. Ask a Saffie.
On with the story! Playing with how certain concepts in spirituality might work out on the Disc...
Hellspool, Nap Hill, Ankh-Morpork.
Bekki called in on her aunt and uncle shortly before flying back to Lancre for the Witch Trials. She'd been there to help Mattewis into the world. She therefore clearly had an interest in seeing how her newest cousin was getting on. Hellspool, despite its off-putting name, was a pleasant suburban street a short walk away from Spa Lane. Auntie Heidi had bought a house here when first married. Bekki wondered how the name had come about and what the local history was.(1)
She remembered the night of the birth. The official midwife, new out of the training school at the Lady Sybil, had clearly been a little bit intimidated. She was, after all, in a room full of foreign people who insisted on speaking their first language. And not just any old foreigners: the mother, who was having her first baby and going through the usual stages of cursing the father and demanding More Drugs! Now! – well, she was an Assassin. As was the sister-in law who was at the bedside. And the child's grandmother, who had only just arrived from Howondaland and was looking on with an all-seeing gimlet eye.
Bekki had registered the midwife's obvous nervousness and taken her to one side.
"Your first?" Bekki had asked.
The midwife, possibly relieved to be talking to somebody with a Morporkian accent, had nodded.
"This little boy is going to be my tenth." Bekki had said. She had patted the midwife on the shoulder. "Now let me tell you how it goes. I'm a witch. We learn the practical. You've done the theory and largely learnt from books. That's fine. You'll know things I won't and if it comes to it you can advise me. But I certainly know things you don't. So stand back and watch. I'll do the birthing. We can learn together."
Bekki had largely done what needed to be done, under the approving eye of her grandmother. She had let the midwife do the book-keeping side of things: weighing, recording birthweight and time, and so forth. The things the hospital needed to have done.
Then the child had been Named, once the men, who included Ampie, were invited in. Bekki had noticed one other thing had happened, a significant thing. Her father hadn't been there to see it, but she'd resolved to tell him later. As a witch, she was pretty sure she was the only one who had noticed, but she was also aware of the unspoken caveat that said some things are only for magic users to know.
Afterwards she had explained, privately, to her father, who was also a magic user. And the child's uncle. If she wasn't around, he'd know, so as to smooth over any inexplicable things that might happen with Mattewis.
"Strictly confidential, dad." she had said. "There are rules to this sort of thing."
Ponder Stibbons had nodded, understanding.
"So the child is..."
"Yes, dad. But this sort of thing isn't the kind of thing to tell anyone. It gives a secret or two away. And as the Ancestors tell me, there are Rules as to what the living can find out. The Gods like to keep us guessing, and it puts priests out of a job if people get to know for sure."
"No point in having priests, then." Ponder agreed. "So that's really how it works?"
Most of the time, Professor Ponder. said a voice only they could hear. It is optional. And we were all pleased.
And a little bit envious. said a second voice. But it could be me next time.
Hellspool
Bekki studied the women in the room around her. Auntie Heidi, looking plumper and more homely. She knew her aunt wanted to shed the baby-weight and get back to Assassin-fitness, as her mother had had to do three times. Mum was there, to offer advice and support. As was Ouma Agnetha, Bekki's grandmother and family matriarch. Bekki felt a pang of sympathy for the new nanny. Lottie van de Kaasmakkers was barely seventeen, slightly older than Bekki, and was from Sto Kerrig. Bekki's mother had fixed it for a nanny to be in place before the birth of Mattewis, so that the girl could settle in, get to know the family, and be instructed as to her duties in good time. This had also excluded Agnetha Smith-Rhodes from the decision-making, something Ouma was still in a slight huff about. Mum had sold the idea to Ouma, reminding her that it was necessary to have a nanny in place who spoke some sort of recognisable language, and Kerrigian was closely related to Vondalaans. And that it worked with Annaliese and my three. And Lottie comes with really good references, mutti, we did check.
Lottie was plump, blonde, homely and good-natured. Bekki recognised the resemblence in look and attitude to her own nanny Annaliese and wondered if this had been deliberate. Then second thoughts kicked in – of course it had been deliberate.
Lottie had been overjoyed at her new situation, as nanny to the child of famous foot-the-ball player Danie Smith-Rhodes. Danie was inclined to treat her as a favourite little sister who was staying in the house. She and Heidi had hit it off too. And then Ouma and the new baby arrived in quick succession. Lottie had been grilled on her child-tending skills at great length. She had reminded Ouma she was from a family of nine children and had helped her mother a lot with her siblings.
She was off the hook justnow; the focus of attention was on Uncle Danie being painstakingly taught how to change a nappy. Ouma had insisted. Auntie Heidi had backed her up. As had Mum. The three of them were supervising. Ouma had pointed out that a man should know these skills and that she was not going to budge until her son had learnt an essential parenting skill to her full satisfaction. Lottie was hovering at the edges, watching nervously.
"You will do most of it." Ouma said. "As part of your role. But this does not excuse the child's father from remaining ignorant."
"Ja, Matron Smith-Rhodes." Lottie said, submissively. "And I thank ye for thy patient instructions in my role in this demesne."
Kerrigian was mutually understandable to Vondalaans-speakers. It just sounded odd, old, somehow. The language people had spoken several hundred years ago before emigrating to Howondaland.
Auntie Heidi looked down at her son, who was burbling happily to himself on the changing table. She frowned.
"Do all little boys grab themselves... down there?" she asked, curious.
Johanna Smith-Rhodes shrugged.
"Don't ask me." she said. "Mine were all girls."
Ouma Agnetha smiled slightly and gently removed the boy's hand from where it was exploring. After a few seconds the hand went back again. Bekki, who'd seen this too in baby boys, was intrigued. Agnetha shook her head.
"Ag. They all do it. Take it from me. They get a strange fascination with it."
She removed the hand again and gave instruction to Danie in how to close and seal the doek, with strict instructions to avoid pinning it directly into the poor child's flesh, watch for that.
Agnetha regarded her son thoughtfully.
"And they never seem to grow out of it, either." she observed. Several women laughed. Lottie giggled. Danie went red.
Bekki suspected there was another reason why this little boy was fascinated with a male body...
And back at Spa Lane...
"Ja, they say It Could Be You. Jonanna Livinia remarked. Like the Anoians, Professor Ponder. That little saying you Wizards have. As Above, So Below. We have a lottery too.
Ponder nodded, trying to take it in.
"It's not so surprising, Dad." Bekki said. "When you think about it. Only so many children get born every day. There have got to be lots more people in the Afterlife than babies born. It might be one in, one out, but there's always going to be a surplus. Especially over thousands of years."
I've been up here for a hundred and thirteen years. Johanna Livinia said. You don't have to go back. Not if you don't want to. But people do.
"So you have a lottery. You're issued a number. And when the numbers come up..." Ponder said. It sounded absurd. But right.
You get another go. Johanna Livinia confirmed. And Johanna Martia's numbers came up. And as chance would have it, there was a job opening in the family. Doesn't happen often. But she took it. Maar, who wouldn't?
Ponder looked at his daughter. Bekki looked back. It was a Witch to Wizard moment.
"Say it with me, dad. Mattewis Johannes Martius van Kruger Smith-Rhodes..."
Ponder blinked.
"Who now has the soul of his long-dead great-great-aunt on his father's side. Johanna Martia Smith-Rhodes..."
She could have worse parents, Professor Ponder. Heidi is a good girl and will be a fine mother. Danie is an admirable man, not a great thinker or intellectual but he will be an fine father. For a boy to look up to and respect.
"Yes. She. In a boy's body?" Ponder asked. How will that work out?"
Johanna Livinia made a post-mortem shrug.
These things work out, Professor Ponder. Gender is never absolute. Ask your friend Alice Band.
"It took me a while to think it out, Dad." Bekki said. "But it's like Borrowing to a witch. You stay in another form for too long, it defines you. The shape dictates what you are. Johanna Martia will be in there, but deeply submerged, sort of dormant. My guess is that for all intents and purposes you will have a boy called Mattewis Smith-Rhodes who will be in all respects a boy. But just now and again he'll get odd dreams or memories coming in from somewhere about having been a woman. Somebody else's memories. And no, he probably won't be Blue Cat Club, if that's on your mind. Not unless he wants to be. Early days yet."
In dreams which are more than dreams, he might become Johanna Martia again. We can meet her in such dreams, but in that place a different set of rules apply. You and Bekki both know this well. She is not lost to us by any means. And we look forward to watching him as he grows. Win all round, as Bekki might say.
Bekki hoped her father wouldn't ask her about Borrowing. She'd experimented, carefully, aware of Witch-lore. Two cats and two dogs in the house who she'd known since kitten and puppyhood. And loads of interesting animals at the Zoo. Although being a tigress for a while had been exhilarating, she'd come back ravenous for raw meat... she'd been lucky in that Dorothea had been serving rare beef that night. Mum had looked sharply at her when Bekki had been tempted to use her fingers, dissappointed there were no handy claws to hold the prey down...(2)
"Well, let's see how it goes." Ponder had said, resignedly. "I guess his mum and his aunts will teach him about weapons. And he'll be good at it."
"He's been pencilled in for the Guild School." Bekki said helpfully. "He'll do well, I think."
Bekki cherished the momory of three of the Ancestors, unheeded in the delivery room, hugging and kissing the fourth goodbye. And then Johanna Martia had dissolved and dissappeared, and something had entered the psychic space of the new child being born... Bekki had felt oddly privileged to see it. Witches said this sort of thing happened, but you were usually far too busy with other things at that point to notice it. (3)
She thought again.
"After all, Dad." she said. "You could argue being alive at all is a sort of Borrowing. You get the body and it's yours for as long as you need it, or as long as you're alive, then you thank the host and move on. And I hope that's not being too religious. Where you were before and who you are afterwards is something else."
The Patrician's Palace, Ankh-Morpork:
Vetinari smiled a tight little smile. He laid down the briefing documents and reports from his Embassies in Howondaland.
"At least one of the difficult situations in the Zulu Empire appears to be resolving itself satisfactorily." he remarked. "I am advised that shortly there will be less chance of renewed war between the Empire and Muntab. King Mpandwe appears certain of that."
The Zulu Empire's Ambassador to Ankh-Morpork sat uneasily in his seat. He had been asked to the Oblong Office to answer some pressing questions concerning, for instance, the possibility of renewed war with Muntab following the assasination attempt on the life of the woman who was now Queen Regent-Elect. Several half-brothers of the Queen Regent had marched their personal troops to the Hubwards of the Empire, close to the Muntabian border. Her brothers might not love Ruth or even like her, but the Muntabians had tried to kill a member of the Paramount House, and the insult was therefore to be avenged. It was the principle of the thing. King Mpandwe had ordered them to halt. He had sweetened the pill by assuring his sons that if anyone was entitled to take revenge and seek retribution, it was him, their father, the Paramount King. And by the way, continue marching to the border and you will discover troops personally loyal to me will already be there, blocking your way, in a purely polite and non-confrontational way, obviously. For now.
"My brother has said he intends to resolve the situation in a manner that averts open war." The Ambassador said. A younger brother of the Paramount King and a Prince of a previous generation, he too was anxious about the possibilities of open war in the empire. Especially if he then had to explain things to Vetinari. And he wanted a country to retire back to, when his time here was over. Which is likely to be soon...
Vetinari nodded, sympathetically.
"As it happens, I believe him. No doubt we will discover soon how he intends to achieve this."
The ambassador tried not to look puzzled. He had a suspicion Vetinari knew more than he was letting on here. He certainly looked relaxed about it.
"All in due course. But now, Ambassador."
Vetinari steepled his fingers and frowned.
"I trust that now the political situation in the Zulu Empire has stabilised somewhat, the influx of refugees to this City will dwindle from a flood to a trickle?"
The ambassador winced. He'd been dealing with the fallout too. Receiving people who had been exiled from the homeland and trying to do what he could for them, out of decency and, it had to be said, because of family. Many had been his nephews and nieces – well, half nephews and nieces. His brother had many wives. And lots of children.
"Hardly a flood, my Lord." he said. "A total of several hundred, perhaps."
"A small flood." Vetinari agreed. "Sufficient to flood a room or two, perhaps. But people uprooted from their lives in a faraway continent, no doubt with good and pressing reasons for their exile, forcibly escorted to tramp ships by dead of night, and shipped halfway around the world to a foreign city which is utterly unfamiliar to them, then told not to come back home just yet."
The Ambassador nodded.
"And invariably to this City". Vetinari went on.
"It is perhaps the merciful way, my Lord." The Ambassador said. He had no desire to criticise the next Paramount Monarch, even here. He felt he'd be depending on her soon for what he hoped would be a peaceful retirement. And Ruth had been pursuing a non-lethal option for many of her siblings...
"Paramount Monarchs of old would have had them executed. And, to prevent the taint spreading or adult children coming back seeking vengeance, their extended families, also."
" I appreciate the restraint shown by the Queen-Regent Elect." Vetinari said. "I understand that although she is an Assassin, she is reluctant to pursue the inhumation option unless there is really no alternative. An admirable quality in one who will soon be running an Empire. But the fact remains that quite a lot of former Princes and Princesses of the Paramount House, disgraced, stripped of their noble status and exiled, together with their extended families. Which, for any given Prince who lost an argument with Princess Ruth, can also mean more than one wife and up to twenty dependent children. All arriving, as one tired, poor and huddled mass, on this shore."
He looked at the Ambassador again. The Ambassador felt he had to fill the silence.
"We have been giving generous aid to resettle the families, my Lord. Finding them places to stay, finding employment suitable for them, and asking other nations for generous assistance in taking in refugees..."
Vetinari nodded, sympathetically.
"And, no doubt, sharp words were spoken in some cases concerning the regrettable fact that they used to be Princes and Princesses, they have this status no longer, and they need to adjust to new realities. Very quickly."
The ambassador nodded, ruefully. One former Prince and former commander of several impis was now labouring on the docks. Another was working as a kitchen porter for All Jolson and submitting to the indignity of taking orders from a Matabel. A former Princess, a half-sister of Ruth, had pragmatically adjusted and after an interview with Rosie Palm, was prospering in a trade where she was viewed as an exotic novelty. She had assured the Ambassador that she was quite enjoying her new life, was even making significant money at it, and was prepared to take the view that Ruth had really done her a favour. Best of all, nobody was trying to kill her and the only serpents to be found in her bed were manageable ones, who were glad to see her and paying for the privilege of being there.
"The Assassins' Guild School is taking several of the more promising young boys and girls as Scholarship pupils." the Ambassador continued. "The sisters of Seven-Handed Sek's are assisting and offering to educate many of the girls, and are finding them places to stay. I thank them for their charity. And the kingdom of Lancre said it could find room for a refugee family. Queen Magrat insisted. Local people are accomodating them."
"Oh, yes." Vetinari said, thoughtfully. "Lancre. My word, that will be interesting!"
The Royal Kraal, the Zulu Empire.
King Mpandwe bit back the pain in his gut and contemplated the potion he had ordered from Ankh-Morpork. One of the clever white witches had made it up, and it had been delivered by express Pegasus with Vetinari's personal blessing. He'd met some of the white witches and had been personally impressed by them. The Witch-Finders had screamed blue murder, but he'd expected that. Ruth was right. It was time for new thinking.
He looked at the other people in the hut. They looked back with expressions of anxiety and concern. Zazu, his Speaker. Princess Ruth, his immediate sucessor to be. General Denizulu, her husband, a man poised to be Consort to the Queen-Regent. And his Great Wife, Ruth's mother, a woman he now realised he loved. And would soon be leaving.
"You know I'll be good for nothing after I drink this." the King said. "I'll be out cold and sleeping for two hours. So listen to me now, while I'm, what do you call it, lucid."
"Princess Ruth tells me it is addictive, sire." Zazu said. "The distilled juice of the Agatean poppy."
Mpandwe stared him out.
"I'm not going to be here for long enough to get addicted, Zazu." he said. "At this moment in my life, addiction is not an issue. Now listen to me. Within the next day or two, our response to Muntab will have been delivered. Conclusively. It will show we are angry. That attacks on our nation will be answered decisively. And while they will suspect it is us, they will not be able to prove it for sure. It will avert renewed war. Others of our neighbours will see it and take note."
He nodded to the Queen-Regent-Elect.
"Ruth's idea. A creatively nasty and most appropriate one. And she was the injured party and has the right. Messages will be sent when it succeeds. Keep me informed."
The king studied the oily liquid in the glass. Then he drained it, set the glass down, and composed himself on the sleeping mat. He smiled up at Ruth's mother.
"Nyokabi, my love, would you lie down next to me and be near while I go into sleep? Thank you, my moon."
Ruth smiled at her parents, feeling something like love. It was rare in her family and usually taken as a sign of weakness.
"Father, it is perhaps best if we leave now?" she prompted him.
Her father smiled up. The pain was already receding.
"You may leave, Ruth. But be close. I will need you, daughter."
The Citadel of Muntab:
The two black-skinned slaves bowed their heads submissively at the gate leading out of the forbidding city-state. The gate guard, disinterestedly, recognised the iron slave-collars and glanced at the proferred scroll explaining that they were slaves with permission to leave the City on an errand for their master. The guard nodded, passed the scroll back, and gestured to the gate. The slaves sal'aamed thanks and left on their business. They indeed had good reason to leave the City in a hurry. A boat would be waiting on the coast to sail them back home. Before things were discovered behind them.
Pork Scratching, Lancre:
Bekki returned to Highmost Pigmaney, where she'd be staying for a few weeks around the Witch Trials. This time, Wee Archie Aff The Midden guided her straight there. Bekki reflected that this was a route he knew well by now, so there shouldn't be any problems. But you never knew, with Archie...
She guided the stick into a landing outside the farmhouse and was warmly received by Petulia Gristle.
"Glad to have you back." Petulia said. "So many people have been asking about you."
Petulia looked thoughtful for an instant.
"Still in Howondalandian clothes, I see. Listen. Something you need to know.."
Bekki patted down her Veldt-chic and checked the set of her weapons. So useful on a farm...
And then the Zulu stepped out from around a corner of a byre. He stopped dead, stared at Bekki for an instant, then ran back. Bekki was intrigued: you didn't associate Lancre with black people. She was about to follow him to say hello and find out if he spoke any Xhosa, and then he was back. Screaming a war cry and raising an assegai and a hide shield.
Bekki froze for a second, then ancestral memories rose in her and her machete came out in a fast smooth draw.
Belatedly, the Zulu war cry reassembled itself in her head in Morporkian.
The Red Death? Why is he calling me that... oh, hells!
Bekki had once before seen an armed Zulu. But that had been Ruth N'Kweze, demonstrating how fast her people could move, with the trophy weapons that usually hung over the fireplace. This looked like being more than that. And she wondered if Mum or Aunt Mariella had ever felt the same sort of gut-clenching terror...
"STOP!" Petulia Gristle said, stepping between machete and assegai. She glared at both would-be fighters. The weapons lowered.
Bekki saw a Zulu woman and several children putting their heads around the side of a barn. They looked terrified. Petulia saw this too.
"Dabu?" she said, in a gentler voice. "I need you. To come and explain to your father what is happening here. You are in no danger. Nobody is. Provided those weapons are lowered, now!"
Petulia nodded to Bekki.
"Dabu speaks some Morporkian. His parents don't. Yet. He interprets the world for them and explains to them."
"I wish somebody would explain it to me." Bekki said. She lowered the machete, but didn't sheathe it. The Zulu, who was wearing boots and a bib-front overall splattered with Pig, lowered but did not ground the assegai. He glared at Bekki. She realised, with Second Thoughts, that the big imposing man was terrified of her and trying not to show it. It was a novel experience. People had never been terrified of Bekki before.
She tuned in. To Petulia explaining about her to the Zulu warrior. The boy, about thirteen, relayed the explanation in isiZulu. Bekki picked up snatches of it.
... looks like the Red Death... dressed like Red Death... carries a blade like Red Death... but this is not the Red Death...
Bekki wondered, in a detached sort of way, what the Red Death was and why Zulus wanted to fight it with weapons. Then it dawned on her.
"They've mistaken me for my mother, haven't they?" she asked. Again she wondered what sort of things her mother had done in the course of an adventurous life to provoke this sort of reaction.
"And posisbly one of your aunts." Petulia said. She took in the red hair and the Veldt-clothing. "Easy mistake to make."
Bekki sighed and sheathed her sword.
"Listen to me?" she said, in Xhosa, addressing the warrior. "I am sorry I do not speak much Zulu and I mean no disrespect speaking to you in another tribe's language. I know who the Red Death is, yes. But I am not her. Now why don't you tell me who you are?"
The Zulu blinked on hearing a Howondalandian language spoken by a white person who looked like a Vondalaander. Bekki remembered this was rare. Vondalaanders generally didn't bother making the effort. But the assegai lowered.
"I trust Petulia the isangoma." he said. "She offered me a life again and a place for my family. I work for her. Until recently I was a Prince of the Empire.."
Bekki heard the story. He'd apparently joined in a plot to kill Ruth N'Kweze. Ruth had heard about it. He'd ended up exiled, unwanted in Ankh-Morpork, and after a long uncomfortable sea voyage round Cape Terror and into the Circle Sea, he, his wives, and children had been offered sanctuary in Lancre.A long train ride had followed into an uncertain foreign country.
Bekki offered her hand. After a little hesitation, the Zulu took it. He smiled slightly. She sensed relief that he hadn't had to fight her. That was okay; Bekki hadn't wanted to fight him.
"All Zulu boys are charged with tending animals." he said. "Even royalty. Tending to pigs is no hardship."
"Work for everyone." Petulia said. "I want the children in the village school, such as it is. And the ladies are good at blanket-weaving, which helps. You just wouldn't believe how useful that is in Lancre. They do useful baskets and things, too."
She smiled.
"They'll fit in. I got them the old cottage on the road out to Pork Rind. Bit of a squeeze, but they all fit, just about. And do you know, Bekki? Right when I first met you I remarked about there being no Zulus in Lancre, or I'd have noticed..."
Bekki grinned. This man had tried to kill Ruth, admittedly. But he'd come off worst. And Ruth was still alive. Bekki reflected that her mother had probably killed a few Zulus. Same for Aunt Mariella. If they'd both become notorious enough to end up being called The Red Death, and this Zulu wasn't going to hold it against her, she wouldn't hold it against him that he'd tried to kill a woman she thought a lot of. New start, clean slate.
The Citadel of Muntab:
The alarm was raised when the body of the Theocrat was discovered. Apparently he'd been mauled to death – thoroughly – by the leopards he kept in his menagerie. The body was so mangled it was hard to tell. But a careful head-count of the animals established that two were missing. The Keeper of the Theocratic Leopards was summoned and explained that they'd fairly recently had two new acquisitions, new leopards from Howondaland... if they'd escaped...
But by then two people were on a boat back to the Zulu Empire. They tried to keep dry and not to look at the sea too much on the return trip. Cats of all kinds do not like water very much.
The news of the success of the Leopard Society went before them to the Royal Kraal. Revenge had been served. As Ruth N'Kweze had said, if they really want to fight with weres, they can tackle some of ours. Poetic justice.
Again, to be continued.
(1) It's on the Mapp. I wonder about the name too. There may be story mileage in Heidi and Danie finding out. First thoughts: I visualise this as having been a (now long drained) pond or small lake where a long-gone necromancer got up to stuff re. Post Mortem Communications and called up something hard to put down again. Cue a Haunting? With a pissed-off Assassin mother getting annoyed with things going bump in the night? It could explain why the house was so cheap…
(2) Bekki had apologised and explained to Mum later about the Borrowing thing. Johanna had taken a deep breath and asked how it worked. After hearing Bekki's explanation, she had said "Well, do not try to Borrow honey-badgers, then. Important." Mum had also spoken to Irena, who had given Bekki a long cool look, and said "Under supervision, devyushka. Important."
(3) Bekki suspected there had to be an anthropomorphic personality who ushered people into the world. Death existed. So logically there must be a Birth too. She wondered what Birth looked like and hoped she might get to meet Her.
The Notes Dump:
The place where background notes, proof I've done the research and I'm Showing My Working, and odd little things not strictly relevant to this tale, go to sit until they're needed. A waiting room for ideas.
nope, nothing much this chapter.