The Theory of Narrativity

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own nothing… in fact, I own the toddler emperor of the Agatean Empire (double negative pun… it'll probably get me a stay in the scorpion pit). Aside from that, I don't own anything besides some plot and a few ideas. That's my lot in life.

Takes place roughly 2 months after Night Watch and Thief of Time.

Summary: Brothers meet and debate, a lord contemplates, and yet another invitation goes unanswered. Also, aristocratic rumblings in Sto Lat set in motion more than what was bargained for.

The Winter Palace, Ankh Morpork, Later that day (Grune 22nd).

Mustrum Ridcully never had much of a problem with clocks. They were punctual, which helped him get up in time to squeeze in a little jogging before sunrise. They were also very accurate: the new models with gears and springs sometimes woke you up in the middle of dreams that an imp would see you were enjoying, and that helped you with the cold showers. But ever since came back down from the mountains he had never experienced a clock so… accurately unsteady. They said that the Patrician had specifically ordered the Clockmakers Guild to stop the flow of medication to one of their 'special' members to get a clock like this built. It kept perfect time, but the irregular ticking could turn a man to jam (1) if kept waiting long enough.

Sitting across from him in the anteroom to the Oblong Office was the High Priest of the Cults of Blind Io, more commonly known as Hughnon '5th Son' Ridcully. Why he was here Mustrum could probably gather just from rumour: bad enough that Hughnon had spearheaded that whole 'the gods punished the rubber-wally maker' nonsense, but that he was here now opened up an entirely new can of bait. Just the thought that a Thaumaturgic approach was being taken to soften the housing crisis would set the collective priesthood off like Wow Wow sauce on a charcoal biscuit.

"So," began Mustrum. "What's new in the realm of easily bored deities?" Small talk was never his strong point, but right now it was the only form of communication that wouldn't end up summoning the guards by the noise, thus upsetting the clerks, thus making Lord Vetinari very unhappy.

"Oh, not anything especially fascinating." Hughnon put a finger to his forehead as he began reciting the updated mythology. "Apparently Blind Io is having eye trouble again... running off and all. Offler the Crocodile God has a series of cavities and the sausage offerings have been tainted recently and it appears that someone has been loading the dice. On the same note, what's new in the realm of calling forth unspeakable evils from the depths of the ether?"

"Not much, not much." Mustrum wanted to get to the point quickly. "Although there is a very exciting new project some of the younger lads have burrowed into. Not to mention that one of them has…" Mustrum swallowed "fallen in love."

Hughnon raised his eyebrows. "I thought you fellows frowned upon those sort of things. They say it causes… problems (2)." Hughnon was looking disapprovingly at his younger brother as if wondering 'whatever happened to standards'.

"Oh, the Dean has an idea: we just take Stibbons to Dr. Lawns new Free Hospital after child #5 and have some work done on his plumbing… although I'm very sure that a human body doesn't have any pipes or fixtures included in it. We were all very confused at that point." Mustrum scratched his head while Hughnon sighed and put a hand over his face. Stibbons… it had to be Stibbons: the same tinker that was bleeding all ceremony from magic also had his eyes on a female. Magic may have been at the other end of the social spectrum, but ceremony as a whole was far too important to simply dismiss in the name of efficiency. The thought of more like him chilled Hughnon in ways the threat of eternal damnation never could.

"Excuse me sirs?" A voice interrupted the brothers' conversation. Looking up, the bearded men recognized it as Rufus Drumknott, Vetinari's head clerk, who was leaning out from behind the half-open door.

"Yes?" Asked Hughnon, removing his hand from his face.

"The Patrician will see both of you now." Said Drumknott as he opened the office door wider. Both men rose and proceeded into the office.

Havelock Vetinari was currently sitting behind his desk, reading a letter. Since the Post Office was currently in some disarray, it was probably from some far flung embassy that felt that the clacks was far to public. "Ah, Gentlemen. Do have a seat." He never even looked up from reading the letter.

The brothers Ridcully sat down in two chairs that had been conveniently placed to be as hard and uncomfortable as possible, while catching the glair from the sun through the office window. "Your Lordship," Began Mustrum. "I'm sure you know why we're here. It is to discuss…"

"The possible use of magic as a form of birth control. Yes, I find it rather intriguing." The Patrician lifted his gaze to the brothers. "But I thought it was a University guideline not to distribute magic freely among the populace? May I ask what brought about this… generosity?"

It's Stibbons, your Lordship!" Interjected Hughnon, his voiced raised. "That young tinker's finally found his hormones and…" His voice softened and became genteel. "Apparently my brother does not want another Sourcerer incident to arise. I, however, feel that allowing this at all will not be conductive to the works of the city: if wizards can have… relationships, the younger priesthood may get ideas of their own. It took centuries for the major religions to iron out the inheritance messes before mandatory celibacy was proclaimed. It could impact badly on the workings of the cities religious community." If Vetinari had one weakness, it was devotion to his city and its workings.

Vetinari was surprised that such a fluid argument had come from a Ridcully. He took the opportunity to lean back in his chair: this exchange might prove entertaining. "A very well researched point, your holiness." Said the Patrician in the same tone of voice that a Civics teacher gets when their students can finally debate a coherent point (3). "Archchancellor, do you have a counter to your brother?"

Archchancellor Ridcully, who had been preparing for this part of the meeting for the last 4 hours, did. "Indeed I do, your lordship." Mustrum rose from his seat and strode to the window for a look out over the city. "As you are aware, the housing shortage isn't a shortage anymore. It has passed through the crisis phase and now an appropriate descriptor is outside the Morporkian language. It's gone quantum on us, with five or six families living to a house in some places. Gutters are being fitted for carpeting and outdoor privies are becoming indoor ones."

He turned his head back towards his audience. "That is why we are proposing a… partnership between the University and the medical community. If we do the appropriate research and then assist the Alchemists Guild (providing it doesn't blow up again) and some specialized Artificers to create… concoctions and devices aimed to reduce fertility, we can let the good doctors distribute and implement them, preferably through Dr. Lawns Hospital. The Preventative industry will need some official support however, even when these planned things become affordable." It had taken three straight hours of research, anatomy charts and small words in order to come up with this and if it didn't work, the Senior Wrangler would wish he'd never made his interest known.

Vetinari finally spoke, a genuine curiosity about him. "A very good series of points. I must say that I am impressed by this unexpected show of intellect and cunning from the pair of you; I'll be sure to look into it as soon as possible."

He turned to the High Priest. "Your Excellence, your point was quite compelling, but I am afraid that the Archchancellor has made the stronger case. While the priesthood just could make denying inheritance to spouses a matter of law, population control is something that cannot simply be put into a book and implemented without impinging on our essential freedoms (4)." He turned to Mustrum "This promises to be a measurable boon to the running of the city and to our sanitation efforts. Which Professor is to be in charge of the research phase, if I may ask?"

"Stibbons, of course. I may not always understand what he says, but he is obviously the best qualified to oversee something this… unusual." Mustrum decided to ignore his brothers' rumblings; it would do their mother no good to hear of an argument between her boys.

"Of course. And may I offer my congratulations to whichever young…" Havelock paused to find the modern all-encompassing word "being has caught his interest."

"Oh, no need for that modern talk, your Lordship. It's Ms. Tockley, the one who started up the Broken Circle coven before it got broken." And nearly got herself killed by her own pigheadedness… Maybe the lad and I aren't so different after all.

"Excellent then. I see no reason to detain you any longer." He picked up the speaking tube on his desk. "Drumknott, please show these gentlemen out." He said into it, his face slightly to one side to avoid missing teeth in case of a cross with the message tube system.

As the clerk began showing them out, Vetinari actually called Archchancellor Ridcully back momentarily. He handed Mustrum the letter. "I know the characters are Agatean, but what does the thing say?" asked the wizard.

"It is an invitation from the vizier to your Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography to celebrate in close company the Birthday of the Most August and Celestial Emperor of the Known World, the Tamer of the land of Ghosts and the Driver of the Sun and the Moon." Vetinari didn't miss a beat in reciting the shorthand of the official title.

"Hmm, never knew he knew the new managers after Cohen left. How is the old boy, anyway?" Asked Mustrum jovially.

"I think this is the emperors second birthday so far. Although obtaining an official date of birth is a bit difficult without wading through the thankfully simplified palace bureaucracy." He changed the subject. "By the way, I assume you'll be taking the morning coach to Lancre in order to finalize professor Stibbons work on the Stone circle re-magnetization project."

"No, actually. The weather is too nice for a coach and that thunderstorm coming off the mountains is too close to the plains to catch with one." Ridcully began heading out. "Besides, I want to bring someone a gift, and this weather is perfect for flying."

In any ordinary man, this would have caused both eyebrows to rise, but Havelock Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh Morpork, simply paused for a moment before going back to his work, such as reviewing the new troubles the Grand Trunk was experiencing and catching up on the latest gossip from among the Sto Lat Nobility.

6 PM, Grune 22nd, The Great Hall, Sto Lat Castle, Sto Lat.

At the present time, Queen Kelirehenna the 1st, "Lord" of Sto lat, Protector of the 8 Protectorates and Empress of that disputed property Hubwards of Sto Kerrig, was overseeing the daily banquet. This included eating, carousing, seeing to it that the dogs got a fair share of the scraps, and also seeing to the latest court gossip… or scandal.

"The way I see it," began Helen, Lady of Protectorate #3 "is that, if a young man goes through all the trouble of evading the security of an upstanding primary school just to have an intimate meeting with one of the female teachers, the young man is rather serious about the relationship. Don't you think so, Nathaniel?" Her husband, the Earl of Protectorate #3, nodded and mumbled agreement as he set into another spiced pork rib.

"Well, it may sound dashing when it happens to a stranger, but when the woman in question is the Duchess of Sto Helit, it should be found rather embarrassing." Replied Roderick, the 47-year-old Duke of Sto Kerrig from the other side of the table. "He is a Thieves Guild foundling, after all, so such things wouldn't be too difficult. All in all I find it rather disgraceful: One of our major nobles plays teacher in Ankh Morpork and runs around with young men while her Duchy needs her. What do you think, Your Majesty?" He asked the Queen.

Kelirehenna, whose nose was currently buried in the latest edition of the Ankh Morpork Times, roused to reply in regal capacity. "I think you're exaggerating, Roderick. She has never had much luck at all with the opposite sex due to her… unusual mannerisms. And her choice to act as a wage-earning teacher is her choice, after all. She's determined to live in a world of meaningful employment, and she is very good with her students."

"Well, if she is indeed so eager to be 'meaningfully employed', then she would best do so by serving Sto Helit: begin to search for a husband to take on the title of Duke and to father heirs, that sort of thing. Her education would also be a bonus in the ducal workings, I suppose." Admitted Roderick. "What is the name of this mysterious young man anyway?" he asked the general air.

"Lobsang Ludd, your excellence! Apparently, he studied at some monastery or other near the hub!" shouted one of the young noblemen from the far end of the table, where he was waving a bone in front of one of the big, shaggy dogs, who looked about ready to just take the thing and drag any insolent fingers along for the ride.

"Hmm, a monk probably. Very dangerous that is, seducing impressionable young men from religious orders. You eventually run into trouble." He turned back to the Queen. "I think it's about time that we called her home and made her face reality. Running around with a monk isn't the safest marital choice, as opposed to fine Sto lads… like my nephew Thaddeus: a good, upstanding lad, never disrespected his station, likes to collect pins…"

Kelirehenna broke into the Dukes favourable description. "Roderick, we've known each other a very long time. You know that I wouldn't force Susan to do anything she didn't want to do. It's her choice to make about when she returns and whom she eventually decides to wed. I owe her that much courtesy for what her parents did for me at least, isn't that right, Igneous?"

Igneous Cutwell, court wizard, currently was engrossed in the pages of the Sto Plains Dealer (5). "Oh yes, of course, courtesy." He ventured distractedly. "It would also be very dangerous to get on her bad side… girl has a thaumic signature like nothing any of you have ever seen." This last part was an indecipherable mumble through the pages.

Kelirehenna turned back to the nobles and sighed. "But you have a point about monks. They're usually celibate, so this could cause some problems"

"Well, I think it's rather romantic: two wayward lovers risking all in the name of love, meeting secretly…" Began Helen.

"And being caught in a supply closet in mid-snog by a 6 year old female student. Dear, you have to stop reading so many Klatchian love stories. They all end with someone taking poison or stabbing themselves in the heart or dying in a duel. And when they do live happily, they're still bound by convention and the spark of forbidden love fades." Said Nathaniel, helping himself to the cabbage soup.

"You have no sense of romance, do you know that?" said Helen.

"I'm just a pragmatist. If this ends well in the slightest, I'll pick cabbages with the peasants in the fields for an entire season, how does that sound?" Being that he was a well-toned former soldier, this wasn't really all that of a price (but still embarrassing).

Soon the table was alive with the making of wagers and more carousing. As the cabbage soup server headed back to the kitchens, he reflected on how his comrades would be very interested in this new information.

1. Jelly wasn't nearly pliable enough for His Lordship.

2. Referring to the creation of a wizard squared: the 8th son of an 8th son of an 8th son, a Sourcerer.

3. Somewhere near lunch on the last day of the term.

4. Like those to starve to death or commit suicide in the Mended Drum.

5. A far more patriotic publication in the opinions of some of the older nobles.