Strandpiel 48
Misverstande - misunderstandings
And so we come back to the story. EDIT. January 2019: noticed a big glaring "not-quite-right" in the original version, kept seeing it, realised it wouldn't get right on its own, so I came back to correct a continuity error relating to an earlier tale – of course two people who get together here would have met before.
The Ramtop Mountains, Lancre:
"Close up!" Miss Alice Band called, urgently. "No Straggling! Keep up!"
She stood and glared down the line of student Assassins who were moving up the trail on the side of the mountain. In Lancre, the dominant direction, everywhere, appeared to be uphill. It was one of those things.
Alice knew that Johanna Smith-Rhodes was somewhere towards the back of the line, helping keep a careful head-count and to ensure that nobody else had fallen off the trail. Again. Rescuing Michael Dearson of Cobra House had taken ingenuity and had slowed the march. Admittedly, Dearson had lodged in the upper branches of a fir tree about fifty or so feet down and had only been bruised and winded. But the rescue had taken an hour or two, and had put them behind schedule for arriving in... Alice consulted her memory. In this place called Bacon Rind. That led to another hamlet called Pork Rind. With a larger town called Pork Scratching, if it could be called a town, where they were going to be shown accommodation for the night. Johanna's daughter was arranging that for them.
Alice thought of her ill-fated previous long stay in Lancre, many years previously, and winced at the memories.(1) She tried to assure herself that she hadn't been deliberately avoiding revisiting the benighted country. Not at all. It was just that every time the Guild School ran a field trip to Lancre, Alice had unavoidably had teaching duties she couldn't get out of, or urgent tasks elsewhere, or that it might be really good experience for a new Teaching Assistant to assist on an Expedition…(2) people like Johanna and the Compte de Yoyo had been quietly understanding, as they always were. Courteously, they hadn't pressed the point.
Alice pursed her lips, accepted she'd run out of excuses to avoid returning to Lancre, and moved on. She had glimpsed little blue blurs following them in the undergrowth. She was sure she'd heard a few sniggers on the cusp of audibility.(3) This was doing nothing for her good temper.
We've got a local witch on side. Bekki should be able to rein in the Feegle. I hope.
Alice turned her attention to the students. They were a mixed-sex, all-ages group drawn from all years. This added another potential hazard, but the party included a couple of senior students, made Prefects for the trip, who'd be policing for this sort of thing. They were here for the experience and as a sort of reward for good behaviour. This end-of-year trip was meant to be a fairly relaxed informal affair, testing field skills of all sorts and with a little training thrown in. The younger students were ones identified as having potential, who might benefit from a few informal lessons set a few years higher than their age group would normally get.
"Great, isn't it, miss?" one student said. She was barely twelve, but had no difficulty at all in keeping up with the march. A steep uphill trek had left her unwinded, and she'd always been pretty much at the head of the march. But with this student and her heritage, you'd expect that. Gods, she'd even been allowed to carry a machete – cultural weapon, Alice reminded herself – on the strict understanding it was only to be used to cut back stubborn undergrowth overgrowing the trail.
Alice nodded. She unbound herself a little.
"Indeed, miss Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons. Lekker, perhaps."
Famke grinned back. Alice half-smiled. When the girl was behaving herself, she could be a model pupil. And she'd trekked the Veldt in Howondaland. Her mother had taught her about moving and surviving in the wild. And Johanna was keeping a wary eye on her daughter's access to a large heavy lethal weapon. Which Famke was carrying with ease, unbothered by the weight.
Well, let's keep it informal and relaxed. Besides, Johanna has made it quite clear her daughter is carrying a weapon on sufferance. Probation, you might say.
Famke moved back to a friend. Alice nodded. There were other reasons for choice of included pupils. Thora Bryttasdottir's family might be in Überwald. But Dwarfs have family connections everywhere. Taking a Dwarf to Lancre was a no-brainer. If she got to see family here – no bad thing. For Thora, the march was no hardship either.
The expedition moved on. Alice speculated on the reception they'd get in Pork Scratching. The day after, they'd be pushing on to Lancre town… then she thought she heard a voice in the undergrowth say "hope the lassie behaves herself round oor mounds!"
Alice winced.
Pork Scratching, Lancre:
Bekki had been getting to know the Zulu family who had arrived here as refugees. They'd intrigued her. She wanted to find out more about them, there way of life, the reasons why they'd improbably ended up in Lancre, and how they were being received by local people. Petulia had put the word out that they were to be welcomed and shown hospitality. For another thing, Queen Magrat had insisted. As had King Verence: it fostered good international relations between the Kingdom of Lancre and the Zulu Empire, for one thing, and he could write to Paramount King Mpandwe, as between royal peers, to reassure him that his sons, the former Princes, were being shown kindness and courtesy. We understand there are good reasons for their exile and demotion to the commons, and we have no wish to interfere in that, nor to offend either you or the Queen-Regent-Elect. Perhaps the time might now be right to exchange Embassies?
Queen Magrat had pursed her lips and said, yes, that's politics. I want to see people in need are being shown common human decency and those poor children are being cared for by somebody. Besides, the Castle Guard has got some interesting new recruits!
Three former Princes had now been exiled to Lancre with their families. Verence and Magrat had received the fathers. Shawn Ogg had whispered something in the King's ear. Verence had nodded and tentatively suggested that there were always openings for part-time Royal Guards. He understood they'd been found jobs of value to Lancre, but at least part-time?
The three ex-Princes had looked at each other, then fallen to their knees and offered their assegais, haft-first, for the King to touch. Verence had blinked.
Apparently, Bekki had explained later (she was the nearest thing to a Howondalandian cultural expert in Lancre), merely being asked to guard a King was a great honour. Bekki had recollected things her mother and Ruth N'Kweze had said. She supposed it was a lifeline to an exiled Zulu shorn of all social rank and by implication warrior status. A way back. A new King to honour. Bekki felt Verence now had absolutely loyal Guardsmen who'd give their lives for him. Bekki had added that it was like the Agatean thing, ronin. A ronni is a samurai without a lord. A ronni gets a second chance to serve a lord, he knows it's probably his last chance, he gets status and place again and is absolutely loyal, even if he starts at the bottom. Verence, you've now got ronin.
"Not that Shawn wouldn't, he has fought for you on two or three previous occasions. But these men come with their own spears and they know how to use them." Bekki had said. She had taken a deep breath. The Not-The-Red-Death, That's-Her-Mother thing had been patiently explained by Magrat. Magrat had also pointed out that Bekki was a, what do you call it, isangoma. Like me. A user of, what's the word, muti. Do not offend {{female-users-of-muti}}. Not in this country.
"A great saving." Queen Magrat had said. "But it's not as if we can't afford to pay them these days, Verence."
Adding in a few older sons, the Ceremonial Guard Impi of the King of Lancre now numbered eight men. Shawn Ogg was the nominal indula. (4)
Bekki had seen him being patiently instructed in the Way of assegai-and-flat-hide-shield, and had grinned to herself. You got to see some sights in Lancre. She also accepted she was now interpreter to the newcomers: everyone in Howondaland could speak Xhosa, it was a sort of common tongue(5). She busied herself learning Zulu and trying to teach a few useful Morporkian phrases to the newcomers. {{Not-The-Red-Death, Despite-Appearances}} was now accepted by the Zulus, after one or two initial misunderstandings.
Then the request had come in from her mother and Godsmother Alice.
Bekki was busying herself supervising the Zulus in tidying up a barn where thirty people could unpack bedrolls. Mum had said "do not make it excessively comfortable or luxurious".
She sniffed. It still smelt of recent piggy occupants. That was inevitable. But at least it was clean.
Then she thought about the logistics of feeding thirty-odd guests. Mum had been clear here too. "Do not make it a three course restaurant meal. Plain, adequate and nutritious will suffice."
There's always pork, Bekki reminded herself. Petulia had said to her to use what's needed from the cold store.
To Verence, King of Lancre.
From Ruth Sisiwayo N'Kweze ka Ceteshwayo, Victor over Muntab, Slayer of the Muti-Demon, and so on and so forth, Paramount Crown Princess and Queen-Regent Elect of the Empire of the Mthezwe.
Via Pegasus Service duty pilot.
Your Majesty.
My father, who is unfortunately indisposed at the moment, has asked me to reply to your letter. He sends warm greetings as between brothers and stresses that delegating this task to me is not meant as insult.
He asks you to consider that it is possible you will soon be dealing directly with me, as Paramount Monarch of the Empire. Therefore his thoughts on this matter are mine also.
I am pleased that suitable positions such as swine-herding and cesspit cleaning have been found for my half-brothers, who are now in the position of learning humility and rehabilitating themselves as subjects of the Empire. My father also wishes me to communicate his sincere thanks that their wives and his grandchildren are being treated with kindness and decency.
Please stress that their children may be able to return to the Empire, subject to pledging loyalty to the Paramount House, as and when they come of age. The sentence of exile only applies to their fathers. I did not wish to split up families and cause distress to the innocent. Assure them from me that loyal Zulus who have spent time in lands outside the Empire, and who have seen life in other cultures, will always be valuable to me.
I am pleased my brothers have sworn loyalty to a new King and are being kept occupied and out of harm's way. Using them as Royal Guardsmen, with Witches discreetly keeping an Eye, is an elegant measure. You will, I think, have loyal men. They know they will receive no third chance. Not from Witches.
And speaking of Witches, I have been in communication with miss Rebecka Smith-Rhodes. Bekki is now growing out of the charming naivity she displayed as a child and learning to assess people with something of her mother's shrewd eye. She seems to consider my brother Yazu, who I note tried to kill her on their first meeting, is expressing regret and is contrite at being led by a half-brother with much more power and charisma into doing something unwise, which led to his exile. I have plans for his brother, currently too powerful for me to act against with impunity, which do not include the option of exile.
Yazu, according to Bekki, is now prepared to accept reality and pledge fealty to me as Queen-Regent. I know that while weak and easily led, he has his strengths.
When he has lived in Lancre for long enough to know your people, and if my father is still alive at that point – the rumours are unfortunately correct, and Lord Vetinari will have advised you? – I would petition Father to pardon him and appoint him Prince Ambassador to the kingdom of Lancre, as per your wise suggestion. If I am then Queen, I will do this myself.
Please keep Father informed as to who you intend to appoint as Lancre's Ambassador to the Empire? I will ensure they are received and accredited.
Please convey my love to Bekki. And my respect and sisterly affinity to Queen Magrat.
With fraternal and sororial regards
Mpandwe, Paramount King
Pp Ruth, Paramount Crown Princess and Queen-Regent Elect.
The road to Pork Scratching, Lancre
"I'm going to take the point of view that some small and portable objects, which fell out of my pack because it was improperly sealed, have been retrieved by you, and you are very kindly bringing them back." Famke Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons said, without looking round. She was engaged in routine care of weapons and was diligently oiling the blade of a throwing knife. Strictly speaking she should not have been carrying them, but her teachers appreciated certain realities of life. Besides, it was understood that for a first-year pupil, Famke had at least a First-Year On The Black level of proficiency with them and some rules could therefore be relaxed, at her teachers' discretion.
"Thank you for retrieving them. I appreciate that."
Famke tossed the knife up, watched it describe two full circles in the air, and caught it again by the handle.
"Waily. We've been rumbled!" a voice said, from vergeside undergrowth level.
"Aye. But the wench is still only a bigjob." another more truculent voice grated. "She cannae bid the Feegle!"
Famke shook her head.
"Fair point." she said, unaffronted. "I know from speaking to my older sister that we bigjobs are best advised not to give orders to the Nac Mac Feegle. I can only ask for you to bring the things back."
Famke carried on juggling knives, expertly. A second knife joined the first in the air.
"I would like to draw it to your attention that my big sister is one of the exceptions to that rule and she can give orders to the Feegle. Care to remember what the exception is?"
Famke let this sink in for a moment or two. Then she said
"I'm not the sort who goes running to her big sister for help when she gets into bother. Not at all. I prefer to sort things out personally when I can. Ask anyone here."
"That's true." Thora Bryttasdottir said. She was watching with interest and had also clocked the Feegle in the undergrowth. Connie Muthelezi nodded her assent.
"I will, however, make a point of telling my sister Rebecka Smith-Rhodes about how kind and thoughtful and helpful you all were when things fell out of my pack, and I might not have noticed. You might know Beccs? She's one of the Witches in this area?"
"Oooh. Nasty." Connie said, with deep appreciation.
Somebody in the undergrowth said
"Waily! 'Tis the sister of the Hag! We're doomed!"
"Aye, laddie. The one Miss Rebecka calls the Tykebomb. 'Tis trouble to all who offend her!"
Several Feegle, sheepish and with heads bowed, came out of the bushes with small items they'd discovered in peoples' packs. Not everything was Famke's.
"Thank you." Famke said. "That surgical alcohol from my first-aid kit costs a fortune and it's hard to replace when you're twelve. People get suspicious and ask what you want to use it for. Oh, and were you planning to drink that methylated spirit? Not good for you, and besides I need it for lighting fires."
Famke turned to Connie and Thora. She tutted.
"Campfires. Cooking fires. Legitimate uses!"
"Never thought you'd use it for anything else, Kay." Connie said, her face earnest.
Famke grinned at the Feegle. Because it's always useful to make friends, she said "Come and tell me about yourselves. Especially about the thing with Miss Band, and why she's so arsy right now!"
The spokesFeegle grinned.
"Aye, lassie, kin and sister to our Hag. I can tell ye the tale of Miss Alice Band, Archie-ollolloll-o-geest! And what befell her at a Feegle mound…"
"Aye, the Long Lake Clan stitched her up a treat, no mistake…" (6)
"We'll relate the tale, so that the lassie can report to her sister, the Hag, that we treated her well. Now hist to the tale! Once, a lassie called Alice came to a Feegle mound..."
Famke grinned. The break from the march now held interest as well as relief… two throwing knives returned to her hands and she re-sheathed them in her boot-tops. Then she sat to listen. With luck Miss Band and Mum were engaged rounding up stragglers further down the trail and telling them they'd get a shorter rest-break because they couldn't keep up. It'd be ages before they noticed.
Pratoria, Rimwards Howondaland.
Suki van der Graaf, writer-of-news, one who would pursue a promising story just about anywhere with the tenacity of Sam Vimes pursuing crime, relaxed back in her seat. The cold, hard, uncomfortable chair in a spartan interrogation room at the Bureau of State Security's headquarters.
She'd expected this. The plainclothes BOSS investigators had come to the newspaper offices and politely requested she join them for a little chat. There was no point in resisting, and anyway she'd primed her father. She nodded to the Editor. He nodded back. His next call would be to send a messenger boy across town to alert her father at the Bureau of Foreign Affairs.
She then went with the BOSS men, knowing the secret police could only go so far with a white person, at least on a first interrogation. She would not, for instance, end up committing suicide by throwing herself out of a very high window. That was for black interviewees.(7)
And the interview, under caution, had followed the usual depressing pattern.
We know you illegally entered the Zulu Empire and fraternised with the enemy. You made no secret of this and even got the story into foreign newspapers. You were travelling under the alias of Marilyn van der Medelander and using false Sto Kerrigian documentation. You have been treating with the enemy, and the sentence is a very severe one. Who did you speak to, and what did you say? Remember, we know more than you think…
Suki had sighed and patiently told the truth. Repeatedly. It occurred to her that BOSS really didn't like her and had probably been looking for an excuse to arrest her for quite some time. She suspected the manila file on the table was hers: it was big and fat and thick.
Then her father had arrived. She had expected this too. Being Foreign Minister and a senior cabinet minister had privileges. He had lambasted the BOSS men and demanded to know why his daughter had not been offered a lawyer.
And Vatti was not alone. Suki considered his companion. She had met the lightly-built dapper General once before, in passing, a little over ten years before, in Smith-Rhodesia. She wondered if he remembered: he'd only been a Kolonel then, and he'd been more interested in head-hunting her cousin Mariella for the Slew.(8) Suki had received a courtesy introduction and had then been disregarded. After that, she'd only ever heard of him at second-hand, through his growing reputation.
But she relaxed. Time to play her ace. One that did not involve calling in a favour from Charles Smith-Rhodes. She was saving that for absolute last, if everything else failed.
She stood up and offered her hand.
"General Dreyer, isn't it? Pleased to meet you again. I got all the iconographs you asked for. Shame they're not with me at the moment, they're back in the office. I got to see practically everything in Princess Ruth's kraal, and I was wondering when you'd turn up to debrief me."
Crowbar Dreyer frowned for a second, then his face turned to delighted amusement as he worked it out. Pieter van der Graaf, Foreign Minister, smiled slightly. Suki steeled herself for the telling-off she knew she'd be getting later.
"You did? Knew I could depend on you!"
Suki looked grave and serious.
"I couldn't tell the gentlemen from BOSS as this is so secret. Hush-hush." she said, with the air of a patriot sacrificing herself for her country.
Some time later, Suki was released with a caution. It was accepted she'd been on business of State importance, and these things could be overlooked. But the acid expression on the BOSS men's faces could have corroded steel.
Highmost Pigmanhey, Pork Scratching, Lancre:
The expected Assassin party arrived late in the afternoon. Bekki and Petulia welcomed them. Bekki quickly hugged her mother. She wondered about hugging her Godsmother, but felt she should be more formal as she was in Alice Band's world here, in front of her pupils. And Godsmother Alice looked a little bit put out by something… and joys, Ampie was here, so nice to see him..
"Welcome to Highmost Pigmanhey." Petulia said. "I'm sure you've all had a long journey on foot, we have an evening meal in preparation, if you students would care to make your way to the accommodation we set up according to the request from your teachers…"
Petulia paused and took in Johanna Smith-Rhodes, who was in her usual Veldt clothing. It occurred to Petulia exactly how much she looked like an older version of Bekki. Then Petulia thought again.
"Doctor Smith-Rhodes, isn't it? Bekki's mother? I'm so pleased to meet you at long last. Look, I don't know if Bekki explained it to you, but I really need to make you aware of something…"
And then the yard was full of armed Zulus. Or it seemed that way. Bekki counted them later and realised there were only five, two men and three boys. And looking slightly bizarre in that they were wearing farming boots and bib-front overalls. But still with shields and assegais. Bekki wondered why they felt a need to carry them everywhere. Then the words warrior culture crossed her mind.
Then she realised Mum had reacted – her machete was out. And it wasn't just Mum. Famke had got a bloody machete from somewhere – who gave it to her? – and was charging the Zulu boys, yelling her own war cry.
"Ons vir jou, jou bliksems!"
Bekki found herself stepping between them and yelling
"Stop! Bly! Misa! For goodness sake, somebody grab Famke!"
Then Bekki was gabbling, in a mixture of Vondalaans and Xhosa, explaining. Mum stood back, but did not sheathe her sword. Alice Band was doing the thing with the palm of her hand and her forehead. Yazu circled back, his assegai raised. There was the regular thumping sound of weapons clashing, steel and wood and hide. The Zulu youth Famke had selected was hastily retreating, just about managing to counter her blows. He looked panicked. His fellows gathered around him as a bloc. One took a step towards Famke but had to leap backwards even faster.
Bekki looked round. Thora had produced her axe, but was just standing there. Watching. Their friend Connie, the Zulu one, was looking worried, as well she might. And Ampie… he had been carrying pioneer equipment. Not weapons as such. But she saw him drop his pack, retrieve a pickaxe strapped to the back of it, and step forward. The other students looked indecisive.
Bekki made a decision. "Connie? I need you. Talk to them. Explain this… oh, and Famke? FAMKE? BLY!"
Connie Muthelezi relayed Bekki's words to the Zulus. Who untensed slightly but did not lower their weapons.
Petulia took over, urgently speaking to Mum, who nodded. She did not take her eyes off the Zulus. Bekki ran across the yard.
"Famke! Dabu! Take three paces back from each other RIGHT NOW!"
Abstractly, Bekki noted Dabu's shield had been hacked through, almost to the centre-pole. The bisected hide flapped from the pole. She hoped no wound had been inflicted. She quite liked the young Zulu boy. She also needed to cool her sister down, as she was bouncing on her feet like a small angry swamp-dragon with red hair. And a very big sword. Which she had every intention of using for the intended purpose.
"Miss Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons. Lower your weapon and stand back. Thank you."
It was Alice Band who had spoken. She wasn't shouting. Godsmother Alice did not need to shout. Ever.
"You too." Bekki said to the Zulu boys. "Please. If we all keep our heads, then nobody is in any sort of danger here." She added "Trust me. An isangoma is speaking."
Bekki saw her mother smile slightly, then she nodded at Yazu.
"Miss Muthelezi, translate my words." she directed.
Err… The isangoma mrs Gristle has told me you are ex-Prince Yazu, formerly a commander of an impi, now exiled and stripped of rank and privilege. That you found work here. That owing to a regrettable misunderstanding, you were prepared to fight my daughter, believing her to be the one you call The Red Death.
Johanna Smith-Rhodes smiled slightly. She waited for the translation to finish.
Well, you were wrong. You are now looking into the face of the true Red Death. She is here, ex-Prince Yazu.
Johanna smiled again. Then she laid her machete on the cobblestones of the yard and stepped back from it. She nodded at the Zulus.
You may now seek to kill me if that is your wish. I am unarmed.
Bekki noted the slightly disbelieving looks on the faces of the student Assassins. Mum is never weaponless. What's she doing?
Yazu and his brother looked at each other. Then Ex-Prince Yazu stepped forward and made the warrior salute. He laid his assegai on the ground, close to but not touching Johanna's machete, and stepped back from it. He prompted his half-brother, who did the same.
Then Johanna made the warrior salute back.
Good. We can talk now. And afterwards, you may go away and say you looked the Red Death in the face on what could have been a field of battle. And you lived. Listen to me, Yazu: our homelands are a long way away. We do not need to fight here.
Johanna glanced over, and added, in Vondalaans:
"And if my other daughter would like to sheath that sword and rejoin us, I should be pleased. Dankie. Oh, and Mr duPris? You may return that pickaxe to your pack now. Well done for thinking of using it, but the need for it is over."
Petulia Gristle breathed out.
"Well, I think after that excitement, everybody might appreciate a nice hot cup of tea. Don't you?"
She nodded at Johanna.
"I've got Rooibuis." she said. Bekki brought some over."
Then she patted Dabu on the shoulder. He was crestfallen at the ruin of his shield, and alternatively casting wary looks at Famke. She was glaring at him, meaningfully.
"Made of oxhide, aren't they? Well, if you can't fix it, I can get you some more. Make a new one. Lots of oxhide to be had in Lancre. Oxhide availability is not a problem. Err. And be thankful the girl didn't take your arm off. New arms are harder to get, and the nearest Igor is ten miles away."
She nodded at Famke.
"Bekki's lively sister, I believe? Well, the fight is now over. Let that be an end of it, young lady. And I hope you calm down after a hot cup of tea and a biscuit? Thank you."
Famke, Bekki reflected, pushed things. A lot. Bekki hoped her sister had got it that a Witch had just said, in as many words, "Push me and I push back. Harder. So do not chance it." And when Petulia got emphatic and didn't use "errr…." as punctuation – she meant it. Famke might be nutty, but she wasn't stupid. Not by any means.
The excitement having receded, everyone got on with things.
Bekki joined Mum and Petulia and the Zulu men, who were sitting in, what was it, indaba, with Connie translating. Weapons, including Mum's machete, were stacked to one side, carefully out of anybody's reach. Bekki gathered this was normal for a peaceable discussion between enemies.
"Dankie, mutti." Bekki said, in Vondalaans. "That could have been worse."
Johanna nodded.
"And when exactly were you planning to tell me there are Zulus here, Rebecka?" she said, pointedly.
"Err…" Bekki said. Her mother scowled slightly, then grinned.
"No harm done." she said. She nodded to Yazu and the others. "Interesting people to talk to. Ruth did say a lot of her family were being exiled here. Didn't expect to see any in Lancre, though."
Bekki went on to where Godsmother Alice was supervising the students in laying out bedrolls, and calming them after the disagreement.
"Last place on Disc you'd have expected to see a replay of the Battle of Lawke's Drain." Alice remarked.
"Well, you and Mum managed it at the Tobacco Fields." Bekki remarked. (9)
Alice smiled. "Yes. She did, didn't she? But of all the bloody silly things to happen. Exiled Zulu warriors offered sanctuary in Lancre. Meet a party of Guild students which includes White Howondalandians. Who promptly re-enact Lawke's Drain in a farmyard in Lancre. Well. You couldn't expect anything else, could you?"
Alice shook her head.
"Only on the Disc." she said. Then she grinned. "you've got to laugh. Now it's over and nobody got hurt. But did you notice, Bekki? Your sister's first response was to draw and fight. And she did bloody well, too. She's an Assassin. Even if charging in like that was hot-headed and irresponsible, but never mind, I can talk to her later about that. Once your mother's finished talking to her."
Alice looked reflective.
"And that young man you're seeing. He knows his country's history too. And your family's. They say Sir Cecil Smith-Rhodes fought an entire battle using only the pickaxe he'd grabbed when they were surprised by a native attack. And of course he reaches for a pick. Your people have got some very good ancestral memories, haven't they?"
Alice shoulder-hugged Bekki.
"Good to see you again."
Bekki hugged back.
To be continued. Finally – the Witch Trials…
(1) see my tale The Lancre Caper, in which Alice discovers that archaeologists need to be a damn sight Stealthier than that to succeed in Lancre. Lara Croft herself might have had problems here. Now imagine that as a video game…
(2) Miss Jocasta Wiggs had assisted on an Expedition to Lancre. One of those regrettable accidents had happened involving an unexpected slurry pit used for safe disposal of porcine effluent. Lancre folk had apologised afterwards, found her a place to clean up, and said it's just that everybody knows where it is, miss, so no need to put up any warning signs…
(3) Another callback to The Lancre Caper. Go on. Read it. You know you want to.
(4) Verence had added this as a PS in his peer-to-peer letter to King Mpandwe, asked if this was alright, and hoped this was not giving undue offence. It seemed a waste not to use trained men in an occupation they were good at.
(5) Everyone except the whites, as black Howondalandians snarkily pointed out. After meeting Bekki, a honest man might add the caveat "except her, of course."
(6) The Lancre Caper again. But you'll have read it by now?
(7) Alas, really true. Black militant activist Steve Biko committed suicide this way, from a tenth or eleventh floor interview room at BOSS headquarters in Pretoria. Apparently he'd killed himself to make the government look bad, and was a fanatical African National Conference terrorist (and a communist to boot) who had chosen death at his own hand, rather than crack under a robust but wholly legal questioning session conducted in full accordance with South African law, with every consideration given to the prisoner (including unlocking and opening the windows and taking the protective grilles off them, so as to air the room). As an explanation, this is on a par with West German authorities maintaining that left extremist Herr Meinhoff wrested a gun from a policeman in a desperate struggle whilst in detention, and then managed to shoot himself in the back of the head, six times, purely to make the West German authorities look bad. Or the one that has been repeated all the way down the line from Sharpeville to Soweto through Bloody Sunday in Derry and most lately in Gaza – that cowardly armed terrorists were hiding in the shelter of an illegal demonstration to use protestors as human shields, and that's why our men had no choice but to shoot back. Funny how that script keeps recurring.
(8) Edit, Jan 2019: putting right a minor inconsistency: it dawned on me after re-reading the story that Suki had indeed met the Crowbar before and this was not their first encounter. Go to my tale Gap Year Adventures when they would have been socially introduced at a braai in Smith-Rhodesia.
(9) to my tale Bungle In The Jungle