Having established a rapport with all but one of her class, and at least a cold, chilly, understanding with that one, and having worked out an accurate definition of the process and purpose of archaeology, she felt the class, even Lavish, deserved a gentler treatment in the last half-hour.
She laid the shovel alongside its companion pickaxe on the desk-top, and smiled.
"Even the best archaeologist comes to grief sometimes. You have all been told the greatest enemy of the Assassin is over-confidence? Let me explain how I learnt that lesson. It was a little over eleven years ago, in Lancre. And Lancre is? Miss Rust?"
"Lancre is an insignificant little so-called kingdom in the Ramtop Mountains, miss". Alice caught the malicious look she shot at Araminta Tockley, who she knew was a Lancre girl and to all intents and purposes a Scholarship pupil.
"Not that insignificant. The University depends on it for supplies of octiron, which is mined there. Its coal fuels our city. Half our Wizards are from there. Captain Carrot of the Watch is a Lancre man. In many greater and smaller ways, we need Lancre. Now, Miss Rust, name its current monarch."
Deborah Rust was unable to answer. Alice looked across the class.
"Miss Tockley?"
"King Verence the Second, miss".
"Good. His consort?"
"Queen Magrat."
"And the heir to the throne?"
"Princess Nottie, miss. That is, Princess Margaret Esmerelda Note Spelling".
"Thank you, Miss Tockley. Miss Rust, you know the standard assignment. An Assassin should be up to date, as far as is reasonably practical, on all Royal Houses, current monarchs, and lines of succession. You are evidently not. You will provide me, by five tomorrow, with a working plan for the inhumation of King Verence the Second. This is theory only, as I know no contract exists on him."
She smiled, noting Rust's icy killer glare, inwardly delighted by it, Alice moved on to telling her story. It had all begun when a twenty-one year old archaeologist, who thought she knew everything, had decided to spend a summer in the Kingdom of Lancre, mapping and exploring its archaeological potential.
As an undergraduate at the Quirm School of Archaeology, she had meticulously prepared a submission to her tutor, Professor Massingham-Montgomery-Bird, outlining the where, the when, and the why. He had studied it, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
"Lancre? Are you sure, my dear?"
"Absolutely, sir. According to the records, nobody has even tried exploring or excavating there for nearly thirty years. The whole country is rich with Bronze and Iron Age barrows which have never been excavated. And there are stone circles too!"
"I see. And the fact that all this archaeological bounty exists, but remains largely untouched, that doesn't in itself say anything to you?"
"That unless somebody goes there and excavates, it's going to stay untouched?" had been Alice's best answer. Much later, she was to reflect that in its total obtuse inability to understand the point her teacher was trying to make, it had been worthy of Deborah Rust.
The Professor smiled an enigmatic little smile.
"Off you go then, my dear. I really do believe you are in an un-rivalled position to learn something of great importance about archaeological excavation in Lancre! Ask Mrs Hudson in the office for a claims form for your traveling expenses and stipend. Oh, and by the way, if you meet a Mrs Gytha Ogg in Lancre town, as I'm sure you will – remember me to her? She was… most helpful… when I visited thirty or more years ago. Most helpful." Alice saw her tutor's eyes sink into a faraway reverie . He emerged, abruptly. "Off you go!"
As Alice left, she thought she heard a mutter of "Overconfident. It's a lesson we all have to learn." on the other side of the office door, but dismissed the thought.