Another tidy and rewrite.
Army Movement Order
From the Bureau Of Defence, Dept 22XY
To 7051723 Ensign Smith-Rhodes, J., the Ramkin Barracks, Piemburg.
"You will report to the ship De Vliegende Howondalaanderas part of its marine escort. You will be tasked with keeping the ship and its cargo secure and safe from pirate attack on its voyage to Ankh-Morpork. You will be paid off in Ankh-Morpork and will be formally discharged from the Armed Forces with the rank of Liutnant at our Embassy, located on Scoone Avenue in Ankh. A return ticket will be provided by the Staadt to enable you to return home in civilian comfort. On behalf of the Bureau of Defence, I thank you for your loyal service..."
The principal exports of White Howondaland were, in order of volume, fruit, flowers, vegetables, and interesting geological deposits such as that allotrope of carbon which is subjected to intense heat and pressure miles beneath the planet's surface. Pleasing and noteworthy examples are sold to specialist geological dealers in Ankh-Morpork under the codeword of "heat treated coal" or "compressed jet".
Similarly, Howondaland is rich in the ores of various metals. Sometimes you don't even need to mine for them: the nuggets are scattered on the ground waiting to be picked up. As the rich red earth indicates, the country is iron rich, and sometimes even a whole hill might be made of nothing but iron-rich ore. In its turn, the iron ore yields secondary deposits of its related metals, nickel, cobalt and manganese.
Most of all, Element Seventy-Nine, a relatively unreactive transition metal with a density nearly twenty times that of water, functionally useless for most normally assigned purposes of metals, is obtained in relative plenty from mines in the two Howondaland colonies.
The Carp Colony and the Free State of Oranges, two of the three component states of the Union of Rimwards Howondaland, co-operate in their exports to Ankh-Morpork, which on the fastest available ships now take no more than six weeks, five if the winds are favourable.
In Ankh-Morpork, the supplies of Element 79 and compressed jet are assayed and brokered in part exchange for the goods the URH needs, which are mainly military weapons and factory tools. Any surplus is banked at the rock-solid Royal Bank of Ankh-Morpork, the dependable Old Lady of Discworld finance.
As other eyes are watching and others also covet the cargo of heat-treated coal and the uselessly soft unreactive transition metal, the shipments are made under great security and are strongly guarded.
By volume, the greater part of the cargo of the ship De Vliegende Howandalaander is composed of citric fruit and grapes. The hold full of oranges are picked just at the moment their green begins to turn to orange, so that the fruit continues to ripen during the sea voyage and is coming to perfect condition as it reaches the grocery markets in Ankh-Morpork, Quirm and Pseudopolis.
One sub-section of the hold, placed absolutely centrally so that the heavy, dense, metal inside, (that which was discreetly loaded at night in conditions of great secrecy), does not spoil the trim of the ship, is tightly locked and guarded.
The ship carries far more crew than are strictly needed to ensure the smooth running of the vessel. Many of the supercargo hands are bronzed, muscular and look at the world through slitted mistrustful eyes. However, one is a slender, boyish, young woman of twenty with pale redhead's skin, spattered with freckles. Her hair is magnificently Titian, long red-gold tresses currently bound in a pony-tail, she is taking her ease on deck, reading her great-grandmother's journal, an account of a previous visit to Ankh-Morpork over a hundred years before.
Two typically Klatchian vessels are keeping station, manned by White Howondolandian prize crews. These will be sold off as prizes once in Ankh, and the receipts shared among the crew as a bonus.
Some of the woodwork along the uppers of the prize ships is splintered and broken. This is testimony to the defensive weaponry this otherwise inoffensive looking cargo ship is carrying, concealed along its upper deck. So far, two lots of Klatchian pirates have made a fatal miscalculation.
Johanna Smith-Rhodes, a daughter of a prominent colonial family and a national heroine, smiles contentedly and basks in the sun.
Rimwards Howondaland, depressed at a military defeat at the hands of the old enemy, had been overjoyed with her. She became a a national heroine, receiving a large cash bounty and - at least in public - the thanks of a grateful Staadt.
But there are wheels within wheels. There are always wheels within wheels.
The Howondaland bureau of the Guild of Assassins, who had been negotiating for the contract to inhume the warlord, wrote a long report home in which the name of Johanna Smith-Rhodes figured heavily.
The Staadt's goverment pondered hard on the implications of a member of the former colonial rulers, the Smith-Rhodes family, rising to national prominence and popularity, and considered the consequences of her getting it into her head to enter politics.
The Army had busted her back down to Ensign, the lowest commissioned rank, for disobeying orders. It also posted her from the Scouts, her active-service kommando, to the base depot at Piemburg to count blankets and water bottles. Philosophically, she let her hair start to grow back - her mother had wept to see it shorn. On her weekends and leaves, she took every opportunity to get out into the veldt and watch the wildlife, where the air was clean and there were no verdammte people, white or bleck. Then she got her final posting before her term in the Army was up:
"You will report to the ship De Vliegende Howondalaandian as part of its marine escort. You will be tasked with keeping the ship secure and safe from pirate attack on its voyage to Ankh-Morpork. You will be paid off in Ankh-Morpork and will be formally discharged from the Armed Forces with the rank of Liutnant at our Embassy, on Scoone Avenue in Ankh. A return ticket will be provided by the Staadt to enable you to return home in civilian behalf of the Bureau of Defence, I thank you for your loyal service..."
So far it has been a lively voyage. She was wrong to think five weeks at sea would be boring!
She wonders what Ankh-Morpork would bring.
Some weeks later, her share of the prize money in a secure purse, Johanna was indulging in a little personal time browsing the shops, finding out what styles were currently in fashion in the heart of the civilized world. There was no going anywhere until the Vligende had loaded its full cargo from Burleigh and Stringinthearm, and in any case, she'd promised her mother she'd at least try to look like a lady on those occasions that called for it. While more at home in bush hat, safari shorts and khaki tunic, Johanna had to admit that dressing up and all the frilly girly things could be fun, sometimes.
Distracted by the shop window display, she failed to notice the silent figures that moved into position around her… while a last-minute flying kick doubled one up with an audible oomph!, the rest were too close, she couldn't get to her sjaembok.. a hand at her mouth holding a pad of linen… she tried to struggle, but it was no use. Her last conscious thought was That green dress was nice, but it'd never go with my hair. Then blackness.
Johanna awoke, sitting in a chair facing a desk flanked by a black granite pillar at each corner. She noticed an even, roughly oval, hole in the nearest pillar, which seemed to go all the way through it.
He man behind the desk looked like a mild-mannered priest or a kindly schoolteacher. Next to him was a rather over-painted woman who looked like an elderly courtesan. To Johanna's tastes, she had far too many rings on her fingers. Then she remembered one of the purposes big heavy rings could be put to, and wondered how heavy a punch the woman might throw. Then memory set in.
"Who the HELL ere you and WHY heve you brought me here? Where IS this?"
"You are in the Assassins' Guild on Filigree Street." the mild-mannered clergyman said. "You were brought here because your name has been made known to us. We have a certain proposition to put to you, Miss Smith-Rhodes".
"You can bleddy well get me beck to my ship!" Johanna demanded. "I hev diplomatic imunity!" It was a desperate ploy.
"You don't. We checked."
Johanna groped at her right hip for a more tangible argument. It wasn't there. She suddenly felt naked.
The high-class prostitute lifted Johanna's sjaembok into the air.
"A different sort of weapon" she said, lazily snapping it out. "But I can see it would be exceedingly effective!"
Twelve feet of rhinoceros-hide whip unfolded. To Johanna's consternation, a candle some twelve feet from the woman fell out of its holder, neatly split into two. She nodded, appreciative despite herself; OK, so she hadn't split it into two vertically, as Johanna could manage, but even breaking it at all, first try, was impressive.
The woman recoiled the whip and handed it back to Johanna. Corsetry creaked as she moved.
"I learnt that trick from a Seamstress I know. Whips were her specialty" she remarked. "I believe your people call this weapon a sjaembok?"
"Thet word will do." Johanna agreed, retrieving her weapon with a word of thanks – it was only courteous, after all. She found herself drawn into conversation with her captors.
"Strictly speaking, this is not a sjaembok. The classic sjaembok is only, at most, four feet long. We use it for enimel herding end… internel police duties, public order end the like. My weapon is more of a litupa, perheps in Morporkian a bullwhip or a blecksnake. But to the world outside we all cerry sjaemboks. So a sjaembok this must be."
Johanna knew she could have cut her way out of there. But it was still an unfamiliar building, in an unfamiliar city, CITIES were unfamiliar to her, for goodness sake, she was a country girl. And that she'd been given her primary weapon back suggested these people were far too sure of themselves… she caught a glimpse of reflected movement in a polished wood surface. A male figure, behind her, holding a crossbow in a loose high port. She nodded thanks, and hung her whip at her belt.
"We wish you no harm." the man repeated. "I'm Lord Downey. Master of the Assassins' Guild. This is my associate, Lady T'malia. As I said, we have a proposition for you."
Downey spoke about the, ah, financial loss she'd incurred to the Guild's bureau in Pratoria last year. We had been researching an inhumation, and were on the point of dispatching a team of associates to perform a contract on behalf of your Government, in the hope all such future business requiring skill and stealth and confidentiality be vested in us. Your Boor kommandos are such a blunt instrument in these circumstances, aren't they?
"And then we realized a gifted amateur had carried out a freelance operation against the intended inhumee. She attacked his kraal by night, deep in his own country, under cover of a thunderstorm, and inhumed the client together with his immediate family. Now for such an inhumation with extreme prejudice, we would have charged your Government fifty thoudsand gold Burgerrands. You short-changed yourself by accepting twenty-five thousand. Surprised? Then perhaps you should take it up with Mijnheer Rothschild, your finance minister."
Downey leaned back in his chair. "You cost us a lot of money, Miss Smith-Rhodes. Now as I see it, there are two choices."
"The sensible thing is that you join us." T'Malia said. "You have a natural talent for this trade, my dear! Such nerve and style!"
"End if I refuse?"
"We rather hope it won't come to that" Downey said, briskly.
"We will of course give you time to decide. You will remain as a guest of the Guild during this period. Please accept our apologies, but we consider it wise to take your whip into custody during that period. You will have the freedom of the Guild and guides will be assigned to you, for your comfort and convenience. You may talk to who you like and ask whatever questions you like. They will be answered openly and honestly."
Johanna let herself be disarmed and taken to a light airy room on an upper floor of the building. She was planning an escape, but a little voice was saying: your great-grandparents had dealings with this place in the 1800's. Grand-ouma talks about it in her journal. It's a college teaching all sorts of ways of fighting, killing, getting in and out by stealth. And they're offering to teach me and make me one of them? I do not like the alternative. Even if I escape, these are the sort of methodical bastards who'll come after me. And find me. And kill me. Better I sign up, send a letter home saying I'm staying for a year or so? And what is the alternative? Marriage to some old Boor farmer with chronic BO and a red neck? Ag! Being the breeder of as many children as my body can stand? Ag, ag! My horizons will shrink to Children, kitchen and church. But I am beginning to see a world outside Howondaland! A world with more possibilities!"
She fell asleep, still in two minds.
Some years later, Johanna put all the pieces together and realised she'd been stitched up. Her government didn't want her in Howondaland - she was too dangerously popular after her exploit. The Guild of Assassins, however, did want her - she had stolen one of its contracts and, to add insult to injury, had received payment for what the Guild described as "an act of inhumation with VERY extreme prejudice". She had been sent here to be out of sight, out of mind, by a Staadt that had no intention of letting her cash in her return boat ticket home. Despite the loud protests of her uncle, the Howondalandian Ambassador to Ankh-Morpork, it was all a done deal between her government and the Guild.
But it would take her several years and a series of dissillusionments with nearly everything she had been taught to believe in, before this uncomfortable truth emerged.
The next day her guide, a personable young Assassin called Matthew Ludorum, took her to the Black Library. There were more books here than she'd ever seen in one place before. And they all dealt with…
"Oh, my!"
This was meat and drink to both her academic mind and her combative side. Johanna had spent a lot of time in the veldt, both while at school and during her inactive service in Piemburg, absorbed in watching the wildlife and reading all she could about the lives and habits of Howondalandian fauna. In fact, she had seriously considered a zoology degree at Witwatersrand after her Army service was up. But now, this appeared to be an impossibility; she'd have to make the best of things here. Fortunately, the Black Library contained shelves and shelves of zoologically related books and material.(1) She spent the rest of the day there just reading.
Then she asked to see Downey again.
"I eccept." she said, quietly. "Teach me what you know."
"Good!" Downey said. "I knew you would! Welcome to the Guild!"
She signed the forms. Then asked for the means to write a few letters home.
(1) The more specialized zoology, mainly, that the Guild took a keen professional interest in for what it could teach about stalking, hunting, making a kill, or concerning issues of venom and means of delivering it to the client. Johanna would go on to make this her own area of Guild expertise.