Chapter 22 – Priorities

Several hours later, Constable Stepanoff had achieved the desired result, and the place was beginning to look like, well, a crime scene. He was also sporting an swollen eye beginning to turn interesting colors, and a bruised kidney.

First one, then two other watchmen had arrived, the first quickly sent to Pseudopolis Yard with a request for further instruction, a description of the girl in question, and a request for Constable Igor, who had arrived in short order with two others and filled him in on the situation and identity of the young girl.

"Igor, I just can't get through to her that she's safe. She just keeps crying about her hands, but I can't see anything wrong with them. And trying to even get a look at them throws her into worse hysterics.

Igor gave him a professional but cursory glance. "I asthume you didn't call me to look at your eye Karl."[1]

Hah, I got this," he pointed to the offending eye, "and a few other painful trophies when I tried moving her. She's a mess, but I wouldn't suggest trying that again unless we have four stout lads to hold her down. No, I was hoping you could have a look at her hands and tell me what's wrong with them. I keep thinking if we could get that worked out, we could get her calmed down enough take her back to the Watch house."

"I'll thee what I can do Karl. You might want to wait outside though, it might get noithy."

Sergeant Littlebottom arrived at the scene of the crime with four other constables a half hour later to find a thoughtful Igor standing outside the doorway.

"Hey Igor, Captain Carrot thought Corporal Stepanoff could use some relief. Where is he?"

"He's inthide Sergeant[1], but I don't think he'll want to leave. He's pretty upthet. And I'm puzzled myself."

"What's the situation? Why haven't we just moved her to the Watch house or back to her family's place?" Igor filled her in quickly. "Ok, so were you able to fix whatever the problem was with Ms. Knäcke's hands?"

Igor's mouth tightened and he shook his head sadly "I'm sorry tharge, there really isn't anything I can do."

"I guess it was too hard to really get a good look? With her screaming every time you tried to see what was wrong with them?"

Igor looked offended "Don't be thilly Sarge, we Igors are old handth at screaming." A pained expression crossed Littlebottom's face. "Oh, sorry Tharge. I was just thaying, if we let a little thing like screaming get to uth, Igor's would have been unemployed decadeth ago. That and general cackling and inthane howling go with the job."

"Ok ok, but you weren't able to fix her hands? That's hard to believe Igor. I've seen you work miracles."

"That'th what I was trying to tell you tharge, there's nothing wrong her hands. I've checked them over three ways to sunthine, and they're physically perfect. No muscle damage, no bone damage, no nerve damage."

"I don't get it. Are you telling me there's nothing wrong with them at all?"

"That'th exactly what I'm trying to say. The problem is all in her head. She thinkth her hands are missing. According to Conthtable Stepanoff, based on what little he could get out of her, she was bound and gagged there for hourth and it was real ugly. Then she watched that Myria-perthon turn three men and their weapons to dust in front of her. It lookth to me like, since she wasn't tied up when Stepanoff found her, that the rope on her wrists wath dissolved too. I found marks on her wrists, she was trusthed up pretty tight."

Light dawned. "Ah. So there she was, feeling those ropes biting into her wrists for hours-"

"That'th right tharge, and suddenly she feelth nothing. Her head was pretty thcrewed up at that point, and it decided that her hands must have gone or something, and it'th refusing to see sense right now."

"Can't you do something?"

Igor scratched his head. "Well I'm really more of a physical-problem-fixer tharge, I could transplant her a new brain-" which comment earned 'The Look' "Right, right, pretend I didn't even thay it."

Cheery Littlebottom scratched her beard thoughtfully. "I think we need Dr. Lawn for this one." She turned to one of the other watchmen with her. "Constable, head back over to Pseudopolis Yard. They already had Dr. Lawn there working on that shady character following Mr. Knäcke. See if you can get him over here and bring something that will calm someone who's gotten a serious shock." She shook her head. "I don't see how we can move her in her current state, but we have to get her somewhere where we can do some good."

"Yes sarge, you got that one right. Staying in that room with all that dutht is not doing her any good at all, but she fightth like the dickenth when we try to move her."

Hours after he learned that Jessica was alive, Jonathon had chewed one fingernail down to the bloody quick and was working on a second. His first ray of hope was the sound of footsteps and a loud shuffling as Constable Bluejohn's bulk moved aside. That hope was dashed as he saw it was Captain Carrot with another man he didn't recognize, and then revived more cautiously as he saw Carrot's expression.

"Mr. Knäcke, I have good news. Our men are bringing your cousin here as we speak."

Jonathon sagged against the cell door as waves of relief washing down met suddenly released exhaustion seeming to come up from this feet. "So she's alright?"

The other man spoke. "I'm Doctor Lawn, Jonathon. I evaluated her myself and so did Constable Igor. She is physically fine. She has been through a terrifying experience and it may take some time for her to recover fully." He paused. "Understand Jonathon, we had to sedate her and bring her here on a litter."

Jonathon rubbed a hand across day-old stubble and blinked at the Doctor. "Why?"

The doctor hesitated again, took a deep breath. "We… I'm not sure how to say this. She wasn't seriously hurt Jonathon, but there was a lot of emotional trauma. She'll need a lot of support to work through what happened."

Jonathon nodded. She was alive, and she would get better. That was all that mattered. Then Carrot cleared his throat. "Doctor, would you give us a few minutes? I need to discuss something with Mr. Knäcke, and it involves an ongoing investigation."

"Of course Captain. Jonathon, I'll be back in about fifteen minutes with your cousin in tow. Don't worry, we'll take good care of her. Commander Vimes tells me we will be moving all of you back home in the morning." He rubbed the small of his back. "Correction, it's already morning. I should say after sunrise. Carrot." He gave a brief nod as he turned away.

Carrot waited until the doctor was well out of earshot and took a deep breath. "Mr. Knäcke, I need to ask you some questions about Lady LeJean again, and this time I need you to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth sir. "

Jonathon looked at Carrot for a moment. Those pale eyes and square features just screamed "trustworthy" but he didn't trust his instincts at this point. He sighed, turned and walked over to the wooden chair and sat staring at the floor for a minute. "Captain," he began with resignation "I'm going to need you to keep an open mind."

Captain Carrot learned more than he expected, and surprisingly he seemed to take it all at face value. Of course, what Jonathon didn't know himself, he couldn't tell. Then Carrot explained that they had reason to believe, based on what little information they could get from Jessica before she was sedated, that Myria had attempted to pay the ransom. In the process, things went horribly wrong. The result was Jessica half mad, the kidnappers presumed dead, and Myria's whereabouts and condition completely unknown. They would have to wait until Jessica recovered more before they learned all the facts, and that could be hours or days depending on how quickly she came out of it.

Their conversation was just wrapping up as footsteps signaled Doctor Lawn's return, leading two watchmen bearing Jessica's small form on a litter. Carrot put his hand on Jonathon's shoulder. "We can't be sure Mr. Knäcke, but it is very possible that Lady LeJean saved Jessica's life in that building."

Jonathon tensed, frowned, and stared ahead at his cousin's limp body. "Maybe she did Captain. I- I don't know." His eyes stayed locked on Jessica's face as she was carefully brought into the cell. "But I can't stop thinking that… maybe it's my fault. My uncle said," Jonathon swallowed past a sudden thickness in his throat. "When we were arguing about what to do, after Jessica was taken… he asked me if it was worth it, that this was what happened when you tried to reach too high, wanted too much."

Jonathon stepped forward, and Carrot's hand dropped from his shoulder as he knelt down beside his cousin who had always been more like a sister. He cupped her face in his hand, "Oh Jessie, Jessie I'm so sorry." Beginning to shake with relief and fatigue, he half looked over his shoulder at Carrot. "Captain, I tried to help Myria and thought I was the luckiest man alive for a few days, and because of that I almost lost Jessie today. I'm not sure anything else matters right now."

In a seldom-visited corner of Small Gods Cemetery, the morning sun's rays slowly crept through the lilac bushes that isolated this small section from the rest of the grounds. Surrounded by streets quickly bustling with life, it seemed a world removed.

As the sun began burning away the night's fog, it lit upon a statue, grey on grey with unseeing and unblinking eyes facing the light. A passerby would have marveled at the craftsmanship. Every line and curve was perfect, the whole a wonder of aesthetic virtue.

Until you realized that something had broken off the smallest finger of one hand, and a portion of the finger next to it.

Until you gazed on its carven face.

Most monuments to the departed seek in some way to capture the joy of life, or nobility of their death, or at the least communicate some sort of empathy. But here there was only an endless emptiness that left no room for solace. Here was the empathy of the void. The warmth of the vacuum. Here was…

Nothing.

[1] Constable Igor, in case you haven't noticed, has a bit of a speech impediment. That is, sometimes he DOESN'T "lithp hith etheth" the way a self-respecting Igor should. It's embarrassing, and his father "hath tried everything he can think of and nothing theemth to work." The other watchmen don't tease about it, not since Igor played "got your nose"[2] with Constable Honks in retaliation.

[2] Igors are very very proficient at sewing body parts back on. Don't piss them off...