Chapter 6 - Sobriety is Overrated

By the afternoon, the watchmen had gradually filtered into the background. Whenever Myria took a moment to look out the windows, she could spot one or two of them either on the rooftops or across the street, but they didn't seem to interfere with business. There was a steady flow of grateful regular customers during the noon mealtime, mostly servants buying for their employers. Many asked after Jessica and Jonathon, and when told they were ill but recovering offered both their well wishes and relief that it wasn't something serious. Some seemed to have heard rumors having to do with gold, and made side-remarks about whether the Knäckes would continue to run the bakery or retire like lords to the countryside. That rumor was squashed quickly.

As business slowed into the afternoon, Jessica came downstairs looking much better, ate with the family, and then helped clean up a bit over her mother's objections. This time Myria did not back up Rosemarie, as she could see that it was not doing Jessica harm.

"Surely some physical activity would be beneficial," Myria remarked after one of Rosemarie's pointed comments.

Rosemarie just snorted at that. "I thought I had an ally in the house."

Myria paused, frowning. "I am sorry? I did not realize this was an actual conflict, requiring that I choose sides."

Jessica's mother snorted again. "Oh don't be silly, Myria. That was a joke of course."

Myria's face cleared. "I see. Then I shall leave you to 'fight your war between the two of you'." She looked a question at Jessica, as if to say 'was that correct?' and got a nod of encouragement from the youth. Smiling slightly, she went to the back to wash up.

"Mom. You can't say things like that." Jessica rolled her eyes. "Myria doesn't get sarcasm very well."

Rosemarie busied herself for a moment clearing the table. "I noticed that. Though for a highborn lady, she doesn't balk at getting her hands dirty. I like that about her."

Jessica considered for a second. "Yeah. Me too." She stole a glance at Myria's retreating back. "Though she's not exactly high-born, more like she… found her way into being rich."

Mere blocks away at Pseudopolis Yard, Commander Vimes of the City Watch was not having a good day. For one thing, Sergeant Fred Colon kept coming in and informing him of yet another group of people asking about the gold being held in the basement cells, until finally he told Fred not to bother him with it and just shoo them off.

So when he heard the tattletale floorboard just this side of the door squeaking repeatedly, he knew Colon had news that he needed to give, but didn't know how to do it without violating Vimes' previous order.

"Come in Fred."

Fred Colon entered, red-faced and slightly bewildered. "Don't know how you do that Mister Vimes."

"Yes yes. What's the story, Fred?"

Every pound of Fred's ample bulk shouted out you really don't want to know, but he coughed once, cleared his throat, and soldiered on. "I thought you should know, the cells are starting to fill up."

Vimes slumped in his chair a little and rubbed his face. That damned scar that Carcer had given him, not quite healed, still itched. "Do tell."

"Yessir." Both chins wobbled. "We've arrested three from the Thieves Guild trying to break into the cells, sir." He shook his head.

"Hah!" Vimes barked, "That's got to be a first." Then the implications sunk in. "Waitaminute." Vimes got a dangerous glint in his eye as he carefully spoke the next sentence. "Are you telling me… that the Thieves Guild are violating their own rules?"

"Er... nossir. We, uh, that is the Watch never paid dues to the Thieves Guild, Mister Vimes. We, uh, never had anything worth stealing before. I mean, all the men are paid up, but 'parently that's not the same thing as far as the guild is concerned."

Vimes just stared at him for a minute, making Colon very uncomfortable until he realized he wasn't actually looking at him, but through him. "Damn. So since the gold doesn't belong to any one of us, doesn't count as breaking the rules, eh?" He grunted in the closest thing he'd ever come to a compliment to Lord Downey's crew. "Twisty logic, but can't exactly argue with it. Tell Carrot I want him to find out how much the dues would be and get that taken care of."

Colon saluted, relieved. "Right away sir. Err…"

Oh gods. Vimes fought the urge to rub the scar. "What else is it, Fred."

"Yessir. Detritus had to knock out a couple of Chrysoprase's goons that tried to bully their way in, too."

Vimes was beginning to get a feel for this now. "And…"

Colon looked even more uncomfortable, which was quite an accomplishment. "And of course the dwarves have been trying. You know how they are about," He lowered his voice, "G-O-L-"

"Yes Fred," Vimes interrupted, "I'm well aware of how dwarves feel about that particular metal."

"Yessir. Several tried to tunnel their way in, Mister Vimes. Carrot caught them with pickaxes."

"And how many of them so far?"

"Er... " Colon seemed to be trying to find a corner of the room to hide in.

"Gods, tell me it's not seven..."

"I'm afraid so sir."

Vimes shook his head. He could feel a headache coming on. "They weren't accompanied by a young girl, who was frolicking and singing to the little birdies were they?"

"No Commander, but if you want, I could ask Cheery to lead them in a sing-along."

Vimes gripped the edge of the desk, giving Colon a long look.

"Right sir. Bad joke sir."

Sir Samuel Vimes, Commander of the City Watch, found his hand toying with his lower desk drawer. Once upon a time, that treacherous hand would have found a more or less full bottle of Bearhuggers Whiskey there. While the drawer had not had anything of that sort in it for countless months now, old habits sobered up reluctantly. He pulled his hand back and allowed it to rub his scar in consolation, before reaching for his cigar case.

"Fred," he said as he toyed with a cigar, "at this rate, the cells are going to fill up with people trying to break into the cells."

"World's gone mad Mister Vimes. It's the gold. Umm…"

Vimes sighed. "There's more?" He stared at the cigar very hard.

"Mr. De Worde was by as well. He wanted to interview us about what he called "The LeJean Affair." I told him to be off."

Vimes carefully set down the cigar and put both hands over his eyes. "De Worde." His fingers dug into his temples. "I don't need this, Fred. Sybil's cranky with not enough sleep since young Sam was born, and I'm having to bunk out in my office to get some sleep myself. On top of that I have to deal with Rust demanding I return his gold, Vetinari asking all sorts of pointed questions, and a woman who won't stay dead. Add to that people trying to break into my own damn cells, and now De Worde's nosing around."

He stared at the wall for a moment. "We need to settle this. Send a runner over to the bakery to fetch LeJean, I want to talk to her about her gold. Before De Worde gets to the Knäckes."

Fred's feet had him out of the office on autopilot before his head had even finished processing Vimes' commands.

Well at least he didn't yell this time.

When her mother opened the bakery door, the young watchman who had knocked and now stood in the doorway seemed familiar to Jessica.

"Yes?" It wasn't exactly a polite greeting, but Rosemarie was still angry about the confrontation that morning.

"Message for Ms. LeJean, ma'am." He had the decency to look uncomfortable.

Rosemarie looked him up and down. "She's upstairs checking on my nephew. I'll take that." She pulled the paper out of his hand and immediately began to open it.

He paled a bit. "Ma'am, are you supposed to-"

"You mind yourself young man."

His face tightened slightly. "Yes ma'am."

Rosemarie's eyes scanned the message as she pursed her lips. "Hmph. Can't say as we can spare her right now."

"Excuse me ma'am?"

She looked up at the constable. "I mean we are too busy, and we are short-handed as it is."

The constable looked around the bakery, the empty bakery, then back at Rosemarie, and opened his mouth slightly with a look that screamed I am about to state the obvious and put my foot fully into it.

"Mind yourself," she warned.

This time he was less intimidated, and held his ground. "Yes ma'am. But the commander won't be happy."

Rosemarie snorted. "Not my affair. And I'm already unhappy so we'll all be unhappy together. How about that?"

"Yes ma'am." He was finding his feet now, and also finding that 'Yes ma'am' seemed to work well. It was a safe holdover from dealing with minor nobles in Uberwald.

Jessica was sure now that she recognized him, watching this exchange. She came around the counter and addressed him directly. "Scuse me officer, do I know you?"

The constable's face softened a little as he realized who he was speaking to. "Constable Stepanoff, miss."

"Oh!" Jessica's eyes widened and she hugged herself.

He smiled slightly. "Yes miss, the same. I'm glad to see you well." He seemed to actually mean it, not just being polite.

Jessica wasn't sure how to respond. "Yes. I… thank you constable. If it hadn't been for you…"

"Just doing my job miss." He interrupted. "And honestly, I think the dog had quite a bit to do with it."

Jessica's arms loosened and her face went quizzical. "Dog?"

The left side of his mouth drew up, and she decided he was rather cute, for a Sammy. "Well, I say dog, only because I'm pretty sure it wasn't a rat."

That struck a couple of memories, ones that had a vivid odor associated with them. "Oh. Was he sorta brownish? Smelled like a wet privy carpet?"[1]

He laughed a little. "That's the one. I take it you're acquainted?"

"You could say that. I appear to owe him some thanks as well. If you see him-" She had been about to say tell him to stop by. But that definitely wouldn't work. "Um, just let us know if you see him, ok?"

Stepanoff nodded. "Will do miss. I should get back to the commander. " He paused and smiled. "It's good to see you well, miss."

"Call me Jessica." She smiled.

Stepanoff smiled a bit more broadly, and turned to leave. "Perhaps when I am off duty?" he threw out over his shoulder as he passed out the door, not waiting for a reply.

Jessica blushed slightly, and Rosemarie huffed a bit. "Well that was subtle." Which caused Jessica to give her a glare.

"Mother!"

Rosemarie just chuckled at her. "Oh go tell Myria to expect more of these." She waved the message. If her guess was right, it definitely would not be the last, and things were about to get complicated again.

[1] See my previous story "From Dust to Flesh", Chapter 12 "Dog Day Afternoon"