Chapter 16 – Unforeseen Consequences

The next morning just before dawn, both Jonathon and Myria awoke feeling, well, much more human than the previous days. Jonathon resumed his usual early morning routine of working with his uncle to prepare for the day's customers. Jessica likewise fell into routine, setting up the outside tables and chairs. Myria enjoyed watching them immensely, asking questions and analyzing the habitual flow of tasks that, in many ways, made them all part of a well functioning mechanism that was the bakery. It was almost like clockwork, she smiled to herself, wondering what became of Mr. Lobsang and whether Miss Susan was feeling better by now. The small ache that Mr. Jeremy's absence had left was almost gone, and she could consider the memory like you explore a missing tooth as a child. As the morning rush ramped up, she sat in a quiet corner with her simple food and drink, and watched the tide of humanity pass by her and somehow, by watching, felt even more a part of it.

It was only a few hours later that Jonathon smiled at her and announced they should go back to Kings Way.

She smiled in return. "Yes. We should check on the feline. He is independent, but if I leave him for excessive amounts of time without food, he had shown a tendency to destroy furnishings in apparent retaliation."

"Well yes, but also I ordered a few basic furnishings for the 'Chef's Suite'," his smile broadened at that "and I expect them to be delivered there before noon. We need to make sure someone is there when they arrive."

"I see. Yes. We would not want the feline to attack the delivery person."

"Good grief! You know Myria, that tomcat is not really a proper pet for you. He's not even tame."

She looked troubled. "Yes, I see you are correct. But Jonathon, he was in a way my first friend. Even if he is not a very good one, I would not feel comfortable turning him away."

Jonathon shook his head. "Well, regardless then, you should at least give him a name."

"Yes, it should be something appropriate. I had considered calling him Koom after Koom Valley."

"I… yes I could see how that would work, though it's not exactly typical." Then again, disaster and Koom Valley go together like water and flour, and he looks like he's had at least three wars fought in his fur, so it's probably a more apt name for him than what I would have picked… "Ok, Koom it is. Just don't call him when there are any Dwarves or Trolls around. You might start a war."

Jessica declared she would like to go with them, since she had not yet seen Myria's house. Pars affirmed he could hold down the bakery for a few hours, and they set off on foot the few blocks up Kings Way.

When they arrived, Jessica had been ranging ahead of the other two, and reached the door before them. She turned back to the other two with a puzzled expression. "Myria, the door isn't closed all the way."

"That is not possible. We secured the door before we left. Did we not?"

"I'm pretty sure we did," he replied.

"Well it's open now." She pushed at it.

"Hold it!" Jonathon hurried up and gently pulled her back. "Let me check first." Leaning back so he could see through the crack while doing so, he carefully pushed open the door with his boot a few inches, then shoved it fully open.

Or at least tried to. It jammed on debris at about three-quarters open. But that was enough. He heard Jessica and Myria's gasps behind him as they took in the scene of destruction before them. The house was a shambles. The smart thing to do would have been to leave immediately, but the shock of seeing it defied common sense.

The horrible painting Myria had done. Shredded. The sparse furniture was cut open and the stuffing or padding strewn around the room. The wooden chairs were kindling. The bed was a mass of broken material. Her meager clothing was shredded, linings torn from garments. Even the ceiling and walls were destroyed, with holes and gashes in every room, especially near closets. In the cellar, bricks had been pulled out of the walls and earth had spilled in. A hole had even been dug in the floor of the cellar. Only the stone floors in the first floor had been spared.

They wandered from room to room. Jessica shaking her head and wide eyed and, for once, at a loss for words. Myria absorbed each scene as a physical blow, unprepared for how physical damage to mere possessions would affect her. Jonathon could only repeat whispered words… how? why?

Finally they found themselves back in the study. He turned to Myria and was finally able to voice what had been running through his head. "I can't believe this. We have to lodge a complaint with the Thieves Guild. This should not happen! They've destroyed the place!"

Myria was pale, but managed to ask "The Thieves Guild? Why?"

"Well this is what we pay the dues for. They are supposed to prevent this. The only times you see things like this are when some freelancer from out of town shows up, and they usually end up as a roof ornament on the Thieves Guild House within days."

"But," Myria's voice was barely audible. "I have not paid any dues to the Thieves Guild."

There was a pregnant pause as the words sank in and Jonathon's anger at the perpetrators was doubled by the horror of what might have happened.

"WHAT! Myria that… that is insane! What in the name of Blind Io were you THINKING?" Someone was shaking his shoulder, but he was both terrified and angry. "You have been walking around Ankh Morpork for weeks, you could… Have you lost your MIND? My gods Myr- OW!" He turned on Jessica, rubbing the small of his back where she had punched him, hard. "What is wrong with you!"

"SHUT UP you idiot! Can't you see what you are doing? She's already upset and you are here screaming at her."

"Blast it Jessie, she could have-"

"I know, ok? But Jonny, what do you expect? How was she supposed to know? Myria isn't… you know she isn't… argh. You know better ok? She can't be expected to get everything right, ok? Look at her!"

Jonathon turned back to Myria, who shrank back, eyes wide and face tear-streaked. "I… I did not know it was needful. I was not supposed… not supposed to be here this long. I am sorry."

Jonathon deflated. His fear was still there. Myria had been walking around the city, with a bar of gold big enough to buy a dozen bakeries, without being paid up with the Thieves Guild. But it wasn't her fault. It wasn't. Jessica was right.

"Gods Myria, I'm sorry too. I'm just upset and worried." He stepped closer and took her shoulders. "I'm sorry. We'll fix it. We'll go pay the dues, and everything will be fine. We can get this place fixed back up. I…over-reacted." Myria was sobbing now, working through both the impact of the damage and Jonathon's reaction.

They all jumped at the sound behind them.

"What by all the gods, happened here! Lady LeJean, who are these people and what have they done to my Lord Rust's property?"

While Jessica worked to get Myria's state of mind settled, Jonathon attempted to explain the situation and, unfortunately, was left with responsibility for leading him through the house yet again. In the process, he learned that he was indeed Lord Rust's agent, and was the man who had originally rented the property to Lady LeJean. Mr. Feddleman, for that was his name, was surprisingly understanding after he got over the initial shock, and seemed actually relieved that none of them had been injured. On the other hand, he grew more and more grim at seeing the damage that had been done.

By the time they had returned to the study, Myria had recovered as much as could be expected and was ready to participate in the conversation. As it looked to be a long one, they sent Jessica back to the bakery both to inform her father of what had happened, and also to help prepare for the lunchtime rush. Another shorthanded day for the bakery it seemed.

"My Lady, this is horrible. The damage will run into the tens of thousands of dollars! We must file a protest with the Thieves Guild immediately!"

Myria blanched at this, and it was again left to Jonathon to explain that she was not, in fact, paid up. Mr. Feddleman became even grimmer, if possible. "I am very sorry to hear this sir. Because according to the terms of the contract, this means that Lady LeJean will have to bear the cost of returning the property to it's original state within 30 days." He looked pained. "I am sorry my Lady, but I have a responsibility to my Lord Rust to look after his property."

"Yes Mr. Feddleman. I certainly understand the responsibility of your position." She responded quietly. "Please do not concern yourself. I have adequate assets to repair all of the damage." Jonathon shot her a look at that, which she could not interpret but which made her wince.

"Ah well," the agent rubbed his hands together, "then we have nothing to worry about! This will just be a minor setback, soon rectified." He seemed very relieved. Jonathon felt that somehow he was missing part of the conversation here, but was relieved to see Mr. Feddleman quickly making his goodbyes and finding his own way out.

He turned back to Myria. "Myria. What did you mean by having adequate assets? I realize that the… item we have is worth quite a bit, but if we use all that you will have nothing left to live off of!"

Myria blinked at him. "Do you mean the go-"

Jonathon had clapped a hand over her mouth. "Don't even say it. Don't say the word. You know that this is what they were looking for, right? Somehow word got out that you have it, and they don't know that it's not… not here… Myria?" The confused look on her face halted him.

"But it is here. Of course? I was not referring to what I gave you earlier. I was referring to all the rest of… it…" She trailed off, because Jonathon's face had turned paler than her normal complexion and he seemed about to bite through this lip as he realized the implications. "Jonathon, I assumed you would realize-"

"Where is it!" he hissed. "Where!"

She shrank back. "It is… I put… inside…" she took a deep breath, let it out. "It is inside the stones of the floor."

As he stared down at the several-inches-thick slabs of dressed stone that made up the floor at ground level, he was almost prepared for the words that floated, as unwelcome as a rancid odor drifting through a dinner party, from the still open doorway.

"What seems to be the trouble here?" He pulled his eyes from the floor, which seemed to drag at them in protest, to see a rather attractive woman with long golden hair wearing the livery of the City Watch. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were not. He could see a larger man, practically made of muscles and with short red hair and blue eyes, looming behind her dressed in similar fashion.

Oh gods…