Chapter 4: Here comes the rain
Elating though it may be at the first glimpse, the exclusive sight of the sea gets decidedly boring after a few days. After a week or so, the mind begins to crave prospects of mountain gorges, or rolling meadows shaded with trees. Angelina sat at the prow of the boat and stared morosely at the uniform expanse of glittering blue waves. It was flat, flat, flat all the way to the horizon, with nothing to hold the eye and nowhere to run to. Not that she wished to run from her husband at this precise moment in time, but she liked to keep her options open. There were no options here. There was also no work, no entertainment and no fresh laundry. Even worse, there was no water apart from what they had caught in their picnic dishes from a shower two days ago, and no food at all. Attempts at catching fish with the empty picnic basket attached to a rope had proved spectacularly futile.
After she had scanned the horizon yet again in search for a shoreline, she hit the hull of the boat with her fist. Vetinari, who had been busy scratching marks into the planks with the corkscrew, looked up.
"You appear to be losing your temper," he remarked calmly.
"I am sick of the sea. Utterly, utterly sick of it."
He indulged in a little private smile.
"So you find it not as poetic as you always thought it was?" he asked.
"The poems are all written from the perspective of the shore ..."
"True enough. Still, if I were you, I would take advantage of the current opportunity and watch it with rapture as much as you can. I have a distinct feeling that if we ever do get back to Ankh-Morpork, we will not be likely to visit the seaside again in a hurry."
"It's difficult to feel rapture on an empty stomach. What are you doing there?"
"Fumbled attempts at navigation. It's no use, though. I have no starting point, no map, nothing to go by. We are still heading towards the rim and at a steady speed, but that's all I can tell. It's about time one of your brothers came to our rescue. Which of them is the most likely to be on the look-out for us?"
"Probably Henry."
"You know, I was afraid you would say that."
He came over and sat down beside her. It had clouded over and a fresher wind was blowing. This was a mixed blessing. Any relief from the sun was most welcome, but they were both apprehensive about the prospect of another storm. As Vetinari settled himself on the deck, it began to rain. Without a word they positioned the picnic dishes, moving as if they had four hands belonging to just one person. Then they huddled under the bench at the prow, trying to keep as dry as possible. It began to rain harder. Noticeably so.
"Ouch!"
Angelina pulled up her leg and rubbed her ankle.
"What was that?"
"Some sort of metal tube. There's another. Try and keep out of the way."
They curled up even closer and protected themselves as best they could from the shower of metal objects. Nevertheless, they were hit rather painfully several times. One of the ceramic bowls shattered. After a minute or so, it was over and a downpour of ordinary water filled their remaining dishes and drenched their clothes. Vetinari picked up one of the metal tubes. It was a tin can. The inscription on the paper label attached to one side, supported by a helpful illustration 1), declared root vegetables as the content. Angelina snatched the tin out of Vetinari's hand.
"It's carrots! It's something to eat!
She jumped up, oblivious to the rain, and began to collect the tins from all over the boat. There were about sixty of them, all of the same kind. She regarded them like a hoard of treasure, counting them, caressing them even, and piling them up in a little pyramid.
"How are we going to open them, though?"
"I think this will be of service," said Vetinari.
Angelina jumped when he pulled out the dagger.
"What are you carrying that for?"
"My dearest Angelina, I am an assassin."
"But you're out at sea in a boat with nobody but me," she protested.
"One never knows."
She stared at him in horror. He laughed.
"Not what you think. One never knows, for example, when a rain of tinned carrots might come along."
"Put it away. It is awful!"
"Don't be nonsensical. I will employ it to open the tin, and I will not offend your delicate soul by referring to any other uses it might have. Nevertheless, I am surprised to find you quite so thin-skinned. How do you think your brother earns his living?"
"That is not something I ever dwell on much."
"Aha, so you just ignore the unpalatable truth?
Angelina turned her head this way and that and scanned the ocean in painful awareness of the complete impossibility of running away. She clenched her fists. Meanwhile, Vetinari had opened the tin and offered it to her. The food was a welcome distraction. He cut the lid off another tin and they ate in silence. They were hungry enough to find cold, mushy carrots quite delicious, but they restrained their impulse to have another tin. There was no telling how long these heavenly provisions would have to last.
"I would hazard a guess," said Vetinari, "that we are not far off the coast of Chimeria." He looked at the label on one of the tins. "Ah, yes, indeed. Product of Chimeria. They have a thriving vegetable conserve industry 2), but apparently rather delicate storage buildings and they are plagued by freak storms more often than any other country on the Rim Ocean. Maybe we'll come ashore there soon. In any case, I think we are saved for the time being."
1) Of course, the words "Serving suggestion" were printed underneath the picture, lest anybody should assume that a sprig of parsley was included in the tin.
2) Actually, given the extent to which they lost their stock to freak storms, it would be more accurate to say that the neighbouring countries had the thriving vegetable conserve industry - without having to bother with growing and tinning any vegetables.
oOoOo
Back in Ankh-Morpork, Mr Snaigilla addressed the members of the Guild of Rubber Manufacturers with a smug grin of satisfaction.
"And now, gentlemen, we come to item three on the agenda: Sourcing of raw rubber. Lord Rust has agreed that the restrictions Lord Vetinari imposed on us were unreasonable. I've already sent a bird to Hersheba yesterday, and I suggest you all do the same. If there are no further orders for Be Trobian rubber, Captain Wentworth will set sail to Hersheba tomorrow."
The assembled rubber manufacturers expressed eager 3) agreement, and thus it was that the following morning a ship that would have sailed to be Trobi left for Hersheba instead.
3) Or not quite so eager in the case of Mr Graves, who actually possessed some kind of conscience and had been forced to admit to himself that the Hershebean rubber might indeed have been the cause of the rubber pest. Inconvenienced as he was by this, he nevertheless felt obliged to go along with the guild's decision.
oOoOo
With nothing to do but wait, they had turned to the only distraction available to them: conversation. It had always flourished between them, in spite of an abundance of misunderstandings in the early days of their acquaintance, and it didn't fail them now.
"Tell me about your engagement," said Vetinari. Angelina wrinkled her nose with a frown.
"Which engage- oh, that engagement. Well. There's not a lot to tell, really. Edward was the second son of a respectable family in the neighbourhood. I knew him since we were children. He was a pleasant young man, we got on well, it was generally considered a desirable match, and so we became engaged. Then he left for the Grand Sneer and that was the last we ever saw of him. I felt rather sorry for him and for his family, but can't say that I felt particularly sorry for myself."
"Was that before or after your encounter with Mr Fawler?"
"After. I met Chas during my first year at college. I was quite in love with him, I think, but he wasn't then in a position to propose to a Miss Winter of Steventon, and so nothing came of it."
"And therefore you thought you'd fling yourself into a marriage of convenience to soothe your broken heart?"
Angelina laughed.
"Perhaps there was that, to a certain degree anyway. But nothing as dramatic as you make it sound. I was never quite that romantic."
"You could have fooled me. However, I am satisfied for now. You may ask me a question."
She shifted in an attempt to gain a more comfortable position, which was no easy undertaking, given that the only soft thing in the boat apart from herself was Vetinari, and he was getting bonier by the day. So she settled for pushing back a strand of greasy hair and sitting up straight. Vetinari was silent.
"I am trying to decide, whether to ask you something I want to know, or something I believe you would be willing to tell."
"Don't be squeamish. It would grieve me to think that your captivating frankness would be somewhat diminished after seeing my dagger."
She giggled.
"Well then, I'd like you to tell me what happened to your family. Why isn't there anybody, apart from Lady Meserole?"
Vetinari smiled.
"I am amazed that it took you so long to ask this." He stroked his beard. "I'm sure you must have thought there was something sinister in my family background."
"No, I just wondered why you never mentioned anyone."
"They are all dead now, apart from a few distant cousins, whom I have no connection with." He shook his head at Angelina's little moan of sympathy. "You don't need to feel sorry for me. I was saddened at the time, but that was many years ago. The Vetinari's were a great family once, numerous and influential and very, very rich. By my grandfather's time, they had dwindled away due to warfare and illness, and my father was the last heir. He was a lot older than my mother, and well over fifty when I was born. He died the usual death of large, jolly men who like their food and drink and stand up for lively dances when they ought to have gone to bed."
"Heart attack?"
"Indeed. I was fifteen then and orphaned, so Madam took me under her wings. She is my mother's younger sister."
"And your mother?"
"She had been killed three years earlier, in a coach accident."
"You must have missed her very much!"
"I did. My parents were, both in their own way, very remarkable people. On the surface it might have seemed like my mother was the one with all the sense, but my father wasn't a fool. He was loud and boisterous and jovial, but he knew how to pull all the right strings, as they say. He was certainly a force to be reckoned with. I never wanted to be like him, but I loved him nonetheless. My mother was more level-headed and also more intelligent."
"No doubt you take after her."
"No doubt. She gave me a strong sense of discipline and duty, but also of loyalty and devotion." He paused and glanced at Angelina, before he went on. "I know that people think I am cold and heartless, because I never attached myself to anybody - well, not until recently. They don't understand that I had been so completely saturated by the love of my parents, that I never needed anybody else. I certainly didn't want anybody to replace them."
"I thought as much."
"Did you?"
"Yes. Nobody could be as sane as you are, if their life wasn't built upon a rock. But you must have been lonely, being an only child."
There was silence. Perceiving the sudden change of mood, Angelina placed her hand on his.
"My mother," he continued eventually, "was not the only person killed in that accident. The other was Sebastian, my older brother. That ... that was the one death I couldn't reconcile myself to. One expects parents to die sooner or later, but one counts on keeping a brother."
Angelina didn't know what to say. She pressed his hand in wordless solidarity. At last she ventured:
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I've just told you."
"I mean, why didn't you tell me before? You knew I know what it's like to lose a sibling."
"Yes. I took some comfort from that."
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't have to tell you. Knowing that you knew was enough."
She pulled him over to her and he rested his head on her shoulder. A seagull chose this inappropriate moment to defile her right shoe. Angelina shook her fist at it.
oOoOo
With a flourish, Henry Winter produced a key from his pocket and turned it in the lock. He had signed the deeds weeks ago, but this was the auspicious day of actually coming into the possession of the comfortable little house in Dolly Sisters. He opened the door and extended his arm in a grand gesture of invitation.
Tvoolia Hingh stood in the miniscule front garden, slender and beautiful, with her dress of pale yellow chiffon flowing down to her ankles. She dithered. It was a momentous occasion, and she wanted to savour the thrill of anticipation just that little bit longer. Henry, however, beckoned her so eagerly, that she couldn't delay any longer, and with a little sigh of delight she moved forwards and took a dainty step over the threshold. With keen eyes, she looked around in the hall.
"Oh, Henry, this is charming!"
The hallway was small, but well appointed, with a dark wooden floor, green wallpaper and shining white skirting boards. There were four doors, and a narrow stair leading up to the first floor. His black silk clothes rustled while Henry dashed from door to door, flinging them open, and then he stood on the rug with the look of an expectant puppy on this face.
Tvoolia poked her head into the first room, which was the parlour, and surveyed it with suitable cries of elation. But Henry didn't leave her much time to inspect the carpet and the fireplace. He seized her hand and dragged her from room to room, and up the stairs, and further, until they had seen every apartment in the house. They ended up by the window of the principal bedroom, looking out onto the busy lane. Henry wrapped his arms around Tvoolia and kissed her enthusiastically.
"So, Princess, do you think you will be happy here?"
"Very. It is a lovely, lovely house."
"Seven more weeks and I shall carry you over the doorstep. How will you like being Mrs Winter?"
Tvoolia's face clouded over. 4)
"Oh, Henry, we can't. We have to postpone. It would be so heartless..."
"Nonsense! Lina wouldn't want us to put off our wedding day! She'll give us a right telling off, when she comes back and finds us unmarried still."
"She wouldn't want to miss it. How can you wish to go ahead without her? And what if they won't come back at all, if they are dead!" Tears welled up in Tvoolia's eyes.
"Tvoolia, darling, this is Vetinari we are talking about. If it was that easy to do away with him, somebody would have done it ages ago."
"But it's been over three weeks now..."
"Listen, sweetheart, Lina wouldn't drown. It's just not the right kind of death for her. 5) I'm sure she's going to blow herself up one day, but that is exactly what she couldn't have done out at sea. I bet you that they are both all snug and happy on some little island. Mark my words, they'll be back before we know it. They'll probably turn up at the wedding without an invitation."
"If you think they'll be back soon, we may as well wait for them."
Henry hesitated and ran his hand through his thick red hair. He pulled Tvoolia closer to him and rested his chin on her shoulder.
"Well, it could be a while," he admitted. "Depends on where they are stranded and on how easily they will get way from there. I don't want to delay indefinitely."
Tvoolia shook her head.
"Neither do I. It would be like standing on the doorstep without ever going into the house. It's a shame, because if we'd had our act together, we could have had a double wedding, but that's neither here nor there. I want us to get married soon, we've waited long enough. Still... I don't care much what people will say, but think of your parents. How could they ever enjoy the day with that worry on their minds? It really won't do, Henry, and well you know it."
"What about this then: If they are not back in time, we cancel the reception and just get married in a quiet way. Then, whenever they are back, we'll have our big party with all the trimmings. Does that sound acceptable to you?"
With a gentle movement, she withdrew from him and walked back into the middle of the room. She tucked back her hair and cast her eyes around longingly. As she began to furnish the room in her mind, her gaze was caught by the delicate pattern of the wallpaper, which was pale blue and sprinkled like a sea bird's egg. She sighed.
"Yes," she said eventually. "I think that would be all right."
Henry came over to her and hugged her again.
"I miss her, too," he whispered into her ear. "But I refuse to believe that she is dead without any proof. Trust me, they'll be back." 6)
And Tvoolia, nestling against him, began to believe what she wished to believe.
4) See how the metaphors match the stormy seaside theme? Clever old me!
5) On a planet where Narrativium does exist, it is possible to make that kind of statement.
6) Trust from the fiancée is certainly in order, but I leave it to the readers to decide how much weight they give to the word of Henry Winter.
oOoOo
Another morning dawned over an empty horizon. When Angelina woke, Vetinari was already busy with his scratch marks. She stretched and reflected on just how much she wished for a bath tub.
"Good morning. What do your navigation skills tell us?"
"Nothing very encouraging. We must be past all the islands by now. Maybe not be Trobi."
"Well, the be Trobi owe us a favour."
"They certainly do," replied Vetinari and thrust his dagger into a tin of carrots.