The Star
The scene is a barren desert with very little green and growing. The sky above is night and utterly dark, save for a single star glowing brightly in the heavens. A woman, robed and veiled, kneels on one knee. She is carrying a large amphora of water on one shoulder, and is tilting this so it spills on the desert floor. The water does not drain into the sand – rather it appears to be forming the beginnings of a stream, widening as it flows, as if this is the start of a mighty river.
In a barren and forlorn land, perhaps all that is left after the utter destruction of the Tower, the virtue of Hope walks and pours her message onto the land. Just as the desert is dry and barren save for the life-giving water, the sky is black save for the one bright star. As above, so below: water in the desert, light into blackness. Recovery after disaster, or at least the hope thereof. Think of the herdsman Isaac's servant Eliezar, who leads his animals to water, thirsty after being lost in the desert . As the camels drink (that gimel again - think High Priestess), the beautiful girl Rebecca offers water to Eliezer, servant of Isaac, and asks who his master is. As God has assured Abraham and Isaac, this is the beginning of something big – not just a marriage, but of the Jewish religion and race.
Hope can also be a bugger. People holding onto false hope sometimes do not realise it's an illusion: if you have crippling debts on a Thursday, staking your last cash on a lottery ticket might make it right, but only at odds of 47,000,000 to one… sometimes you have to realise it's only a siren call, and walk away. Hope works best if it's realistic and you've done your homework.
Joshua Nail was a man beset with problems. He owed Chrysophrase the troll money at punitive interest. The rents were due and he had no idea how to pay them. his only hope, with his last couple of dollars, was the big accumulator roll-over at the Temple of Anoia. The midweek service jackpot stood at ten thousand and had gradually built up over a month or so. If the Goddess smiled on him, that would clear all his debts and more… It could be me, he thought. It better bloody well be!
Meanwhile that Wednesday afternoon, a group of senior Assassins had been called to the Master's Office on Filigree Street, in conditions of extreme security and secrecy.
Only eight Assassins – an inauspicious number, for those prone to reflection – had been called to the Dark Council's conference room. But looking around the table, Lord Downey knew they were the very best for special contracts. The eight knew it, too: each of them was credited with something different, something special, something noteworthy, and they all had the accolade of a discreet silver plaque in the Library that told the Guild why they were distinguished.
One of them must be capable of pulling this one off, Downey thought, mustering his briefing papers. I don't want to go back to Vetinari empty-handed to tell him this client is unkillable.
"Thank you all for coming here." he began. "The reason for your being selected to be present is that the Guild has received a unique contract. Obviously I am not at liberty to divulge the identity of the person or persons who have approached us, but it is a matter of the greatest importance for the future stability of the Disc if this client is inhumed."
Downey took a deep breath.
"There are difficulties surrounding this client. Any approach will require wholly novel and new methods to bring about a lasting and satisfying inhumation. You are all here because, without exception, you have all been innovators and pathfinders in your practice of the Craft. Innovation is definitely called for in this case."
He nodded at one of the eight. "Madame Deux-Epees. You are so far the only member of the Guild to have inhumed a troll(1). Your account of how you concluded that contract is, you will be pleased to know, the standard work of reference, should such a contract come up again.
"Mr Pteppic, I'm so glad you could be here. I understand you thought you'd given up the active profession, but your working history speaks for itself. A pantheon of Gods, over three thousand monarchs and a whole way of life(2). The Guild remains in awe of you. Thank you for attending in the hour of the Guild's need.
"And Miss Smith-Rhodes. You are the first Guild member to have inhumed a were-creature(3). Again your methodology is the standard guide, lodged in the Black Library for those who might follow on where you have led."
Downey complimented each in turn on their original and inventive minds and what they had achieved for the Guild, and then outlined the contract according to what was known about the client, an Überwaldean nobleman who was known for his cruelty and ruthlessness. Against growing consternation and expressions of disbelief, Downey felt it necessary to add "This contract is worth a quarter of a million dollars. That's a hundred and twenty-five thousand to the successful candidate. This is based on difficulty plus the pressing need for this person to be annulled."
Johanna Smith-Rhodes lifted a hand.
"Sir. Is it permissible to take essistents on this contrect?"
Downey considered.
"Give me their names along with a working plan and a description of their proposed role. And I will veto or approve as I see fit." he said.
She nodded. Emmanuelle-Marie Lapoignard les Deux-Ēpées nudged her.
"You do not intend to do this thing, cherie?" she asked, urgently. "It frightens me. I know my limits."
Johanna smiled. "You hev got to hev hope!" she said. "But only efter preparing, plenning, briefing end rehearsing end checking nothing cen go wrong!"
"Entirely up to you, of course." Pteppic said, politely. He knew the deadly efficacy of the new women Assassins. "But for myself, I think the time isn't right to re-enter the active profession, even for serious money. Chidder?"
His business partner, a man who had fitted in occasional little jobs for the Guild in between merchant venturing expeditions, grinned and nodded affirmation.
"I'll sit this one out, thanks!" he said. "Viper House can cover itself in somebody else's glory this time!"
In the end, Johanna found herself sitting in the Black Library, reading, researching, making plans, and sending confidential notes to Downey asking for clarification of some points about the client. She also called in two trusted recent graduates, both of whom had been her pupils, and briefed them in secret. Both expressed a willingness to join her on this contract.
And then she found herself writing a letter she hoped would never be received.
It began
My dearest Ponder.
If you are reading this then you will know I have not returned from a mission. But you knew when you met me I am an Assassin, just as I knew your being a research wizard is a very risky profession…
She would leave it with Reverend Clement, who would know when to deliver it. She hoped he would never have to deliver it.
And then she went back to mission planning again. {To be continued in "The Sun"}
"Do explain the concept to me again, Your Grace" Vetinari invited her, pouring another cup of tea for his guest.
Extremelia Mume, Bishop of the Church of Anoia, reiterated her main selling point again.
"On a fifty pence ticket, my lord, eighteen pence is raised for distribution to good causes. Twenty pence goes into the prize-pool which generates the money prizes which will encourage take-up of tickets. Six pence goes in City tax. Six pence goes to the Church of Anoia to meet our legitimate operating costs for running the City Lottery."
"And you really think you can sell up to two hundred thousand tickets a week?" Vetinari inquired.
"Easily, my lord. Which represents twelve thousand dollars a week in City tax."
"And which by the same mathematics, as I cannot help reflect, also generates a twelve thousand dollar a week income for the Church of Anoia." Vetinari said, drily.
"Hardly that, my Lord. Out of that amount we would have to print and distribute the lottery tickets – we have asked Teemer and Spools to come up with a range of options and estimates for the cards, which have to be eye-catching and fraud-proof – we would need to provide an incentive to outlets to stock and sell them for us. I estimate ten pence profit for every fifty cards sold, as people going into a newsagent for a lottery ticket are likely to buy other items too, and thus boost that retailer's general sales. Gamblers' Guild tax of a penny a ticket. Mr Jones is happy with that, I've checked it with him. We need to employ additional staff to check claims and act as a deterrent to fraud. To tally the monies and distribute it accordingly. Mr von Lipwig is very keen to assist, incidentally, so the Royal Bank and the Post Office are both on side…"
Vetinari raised a hand.
"I am for this idea in principle, Bishop. Some little details need to be adjusted, such as the level of City tax on the proposed lottery. But imagine my position. While I am aware your church reaches out to gamblers in an unprecedented way and has accumulated a lot of specialised pastoral knowledge, which is I'm sure invaluable, as Patrician I must think of the other churches and temples. There would be a certain amount of opposition and professional jealousy to this project being handed exclusively to one Church among many to administer. High Priest Ridcully would…"
"He would appreciate being allowed to chair the inter-faith ecumenical committee that will oversee donations and gifts to charities and good causes around the city, my Lord." said Extremelia, with confidence.
"And a few charitable donations to projects close to the heart of the Ionians, the Offlerians and the Omnians would serve to defuse any opposition." she said, with confidence. "I happen to know the Divine Legion of Salvation needs roof repairs to its Citadel, and both the charitable hospital and the girls' school dedicated to Seven-Handed Sek could use capital investment, and…"
Vetinari raised a hand.
"I can see you've thought this through, your Grace." he said.
He steepled his fingers.
"Assuming I choose to permit the establishment of a City Lottery, how soon could you be up and running? And my preference is fifteen to good causes, twenty to the prize pool, eight in City tax and seven to the organiser for their necessary expenses."
Another point struck Vetinari.
"And even in this city, your Grace, how can you be certain that people will leap at the rather remote offer of fifty pence, invested now, which just might bring a million dollars to them? To be able to offer a million dollar prize, after all, means selling five million tickets."
"I envisage we would aim at a single top prize of no more than fifty thousand dollars, my lord. Still a fortune, and achievable with a quarter of a million ticket sales. We would also have lesser prizes in greater quantity, perhaps several thousand-dollar wins, forty or fifty hundred dollar wins, a couple of hundred ten dollar wins, and a thousand or so that merely win the fifty pence stake money back.
"In my experience, people even in Ankh-Morpork find it hard to calculate odds. The fact that winning the big prize in this lottery involves beating odds of forty-seven million to one will mean little. In my experience, people tend to ascribe more subjective odds of fifty-fifty to a bet – they think in terms of "Either I win or I won't.""
She took a reflective sip of her tea.
"You know, sir, it's all about hope." she said. "People will hope for the big win, the big chance, to get out of whatever mess they are in, to have that little bit more money that will make all the difference, to create breathing room for themselves, to move to somewhere better, wear better clothes, eat better food. Getting their lives unstuck, as it were.
"My Church has the motto "It could be you" That's about Hope too. That's the motto that's going onto the City lottery cards. And gambling is fun, or people wouldn't do it. It's fun, it's exciting, it makes people feel alive. That's why I work it into religious services. That's why I'm Chaplain to the Gamblers' Guild. It also means I can keep an eye on people who'd rather gamble than eat, and try to get them unstuck and sorted out. There has to be hope there too."
She smiled at the Patrician.
"Do we have a City Lottery, sir?"
He smiled.
"Do you know, your Grace, I rather think we do!"
Patrician and Bishop, State and Church, shook hands on an agreement.
And Joshua Nail, full of hope, attended Wednesday night bingo at the Church of Anoia. And he won a small sum. But not nearly enough to pay his creditors. Hope, like her half-sister Fortuna, can also be a right bitch.
1 (1) see my story The Graduation Class.
2 (2) see Terry Pratchett's Pyramids.
3 (3) See my story Whys and Weres.