Chapter 9 - A Little Bit of Rope

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. There was some discussion regarding who would be saddled with dealing with Jonathon's bedpan. Jessica absolutely refused, threatening to show everyone her last meal in all of its splendor if forced to do so. Pars claimed it was 'not his place,' which caused some raised eyebrows from his wife. Myria expressed that she was willing to do so, but Rosemarie simply patted her shoulder and said 'don't worry about it, she'd been dealing with such things since her daughter and nephew were babes. Age really made little difference'.

Jonathon continued to improve gradually, sitting up for longer periods but still suffering when he had to change bedclothes or do anything else requiring much movement of his chest or arms.

Early afternoon brought a visitor, who was greeted by Rosemarie at the front of the bakery.

"Doctor Lawn! What a pleasure. May I offer you something? We have some meat pie left from the lunch hour, still warm next to the oven."

The man in question smiled in return and tilted his head before setting his ever-present bag on a chair. "Mrs. Knäcke. Thank you, but I'm really not hungry." His smile faded a little. "I thought I'd stop by and see how your daughter was doing. I haven't heard any updates in a couple of days."

"Hey Doc! How's things?" came the answer to his question, followed by Jessica coming into sight from the back of the bakery. The doctor's face lightened at that, and his smile returned as he gave her a professional appraisal.

"Well I guess that answers that question. You look in much better health, Jessica."

"Yeah. I feel a lot better too."

"I can tell. I'm relieved." It had been difficult for Lawn, attempting to treat what he was sure was not a physical ailment but manifested itself like a wasting sickness. This would be a significant load off of his mind. He turned to Rosemarie and asked more quietly, "What happened? She's done a complete turnaround."

"I… can't say for sure, but I think it had to do with Lady Myria returning."

"Oh? That's interesting, but stranger things have happened[1]. Well, it appears that thankfully you don't need my services after all." He straightened and reached for his bag.

Rosemarie and Jessica looked at each other for a moment, reaching silent agreement. "Actually Doc, there is something I'd like you to check, if you don't mind?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah… um. My cousin had a little accident and bruised his ribs. Think you could have a look?"

Lawn was no fool. He could tell from how the two women were acting that there was more to this than an 'accident.' But, true to his field, he didn't push the matter. "Well, since I'm already here, let's have a look." Shouldering his bag again, he let them lead him upstairs to Jonathon's room, where he insisted on examining Jonathon "without everyone hovering over." Giving him a thorough once-over, which resulted in more than a little grumbling, muttering, and whining from Jonathon about being poked and prodded and forced to move in ways that hurt, he pronounced him in no danger of getting worse, and apparently well on his way to recovery.

"It's odd though. The way these injuries look, I'd say you had been hurt a lot worse than you are now. And they look at least a week old." He looked carefully at Jonathon, who did his best to appear clueless and innocent and opted for a painful shrug. "I see. And the fact that I was here only four days ago, and you were fine?"

Jonathon went for his best 'I'm a moron what do I know?' face. Lawn sighed. 'Well, it looks like your family has fixed you up well. Stay in bed and don't exert yourself for a few more days, then you can gradually start moving around again. Take some willowbark tea if you have pain or swelling."

"Thanks Doctor Lawn."

Giving Jonathon another openly curiously look, Lawn left the room to inform the rest of the family. As Rosemarie walked him to the door, he paused again. "Jonathon's injuries wouldn't have anything to do with those watchmen loitering around outside the bakery would they, Mrs. Knäcke? Not that it's my business."

Rosemarie considered for a moment. He had been very helpful and attentive to Jessica. She opted to be polite. "Somewhat, Doctor Lawn. Yes."

"Hmmm. Well, as much as I have enjoyed your company, I hope I won't have any more professional interest anytime soon?"

"We'll try. I promise."

The afternoon proved to be a busy one, when a second visitor arrived an hour later.

It was another watchman, one they had not seen before. Not especially tall, nor dressed especially richly, his primary distinguishing feature was a still-pink scar above and below one eye and a certain smugness that grated on Rosemarie's nerves almost immediately.

"May I help you, officer?" she asked with as little politeness as she could, which wasn't much.

He looked at her and smiled slightly, but she wasn't sure what was so funny. "Yes I believe you can. I have a message for Lady LeJean."

She drew herself up. "As I told the other man yesterday, we are very busy and she is helping us here in the bakery. You may leave any message with me, and tell your commander she will not be able to answer any summons at this time."

Commander Vimes' smile broadened further. It wasn't often in this day and age that he was thwarted by someone who was neither his wife nor the Patrician. He found her attempt at intimidation actually refreshing. Had she been an aristocrat basing it off of her 'pedigree' that would have been another matter, but he always appreciated someone willing to stand up to capricious authority for family.

Not that he considered himself capricious.

Well, not most of the time.

Still, this was going to be interesting. "Well then, Mrs. Knäcke, it's fortunate that I am here to speak with her directly and not to summon her anywhere. And I don't have anything written to hand over either." He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in the universal gesture of 'your turn, let's see what cards you've got'.

Rosemarie was temporarily at a loss, but recovered quickly. "Well. We are still very busy. Perhaps you could return some other day."

Vimes stared at her without his expression changing one bit for a few seconds, then slowly scanned the practically empty bakery. "I see. In that case-"

He was interrupted by the bakery door opening behind him. "Commander! They didn't tell me you would be inspecting the men today!" Corporal Stroud seemed very agitated, and Vimes' look of disappointment only made it worse.

Rosemarie, on the other hand, became pale and felt slightly ill as she put two and two together and got a very large number four. "Your Grace?" she managed in a small voice.

Blast and damnation. "Madam, you were doing so well before. Can we pretend Corporal Stroud did not just blurt out the first thing that came into his head?" He gave Stroud another irritated look.

"Sorry Com-." Another look, and Corporal Stroud sagged. "Sorry sir. I'll be outside if you need anything, sir," and he scuttled out.

Vimes sighed. Corporal Stroud was zealous about making sure his men kept up appearances and regulations. He'd have to have a talk with his sergeant about how Stroud handled more nuanced situations. Or have Carrot do it, he supposed. He turned back to Rosemarie, who was no longer sure of her footing. "Now, where were we? Ah yes. Lady LeJean. I need to speak with her. Privately if you don't mind."

"Yes Your Gr-"

"And please, don't call me Your Grace." He made a sour face. "As long as we're being so nice to each other, in private you can call me Mister Vimes. How about that?"

This seemed to make it worse. Calling Lady LeJean Myria was one thing. But the Commander was a Duke and had the ear of the Patrician. She shuddered and tried to recover some of her previous confidence. "Yes. I… of course. One moment." Forgetting herself to the point where she didn't even offer him a chair or something to eat, she fled to the rear of the bakery.

"The Commander of the Watch is here!" She hissed to Pars, who paled as well.

"The Duke is here? In our bakery? What does he-" he turned red. "Myria. It's always Myria," he muttered. "What were we thinking, Rose?"

She recovered a little more. "Don't start that again, it won't help anything now. We're arms-deep in dough. Complaining that it's stuck to our fingers now won't do any good." She took another deep breath. "What do we do?"

Pars shook his head. "Only thing we can. Go upstairs and get Myria."

"What if he's here to arrest her?"

"All the better for us then."

"Parsley Knäcke! You take that back!"

Pars cringed, "Fine, I take it back. It's not fair of me, I admit it. Rose my love, as long as you've known me, you know I shouldn't wish ill on any. But all of this." He gestured, taking in practically the whole world. "Everything put at risk, our family hurt." He shook his head sadly. "I don't know how to just forgive and forget what caused it all."

For the first time since Myria returned, Rosemarie felt she could see through her husband's anger to the hurt beneath. This was the man she married. Dedicated to family and kind-hearted. It was those strengths that had been working against him with respect to Myria. "I understand." She gave him a brief hug and felt his own tension ease slightly. "But I need you to stop focusing on what has happened and help me deal with what's happening now. Can we stall him? Pretend she's not here?"

Pars shook himself slightly, and focused on the problem at hand. "No. Rose, he's had men around the bakery for days now. He knows she's here. Trying to delay or make excuses is just going to make things worse."

He took a deep breath. "Bring her down."

Myria sat in a corner of the bakery. She could feel fear eating at the corners of her composure as she faced the man who, in Ankh Morpork, was probably as close to an Auditor as one could get among humans. The commander of the City Watch, humans said, was all about the law. And the law was the rules.

Vimes, for his part, found his first impression of Lady Myria LeJean to be a very mixed bag. For one thing, she expressed absolutely zero of the arrogance and sense of entitlement he had come to expect from most peers. Nor did she exhibit the injured pride and bloody stupidity he'd grown to know and hate from Rust and his ilk. His only other exposure had been those like his darling wife, whose family had been so wealthy for so many generations that pride had given way to a sort of absent-minded assurance that 'everything just works out'.

Lady Myria, in contrast, seemed excessively polite and slightly brittle.

And then there was the matter of some of the things she was supposed to have accomplished. Destroying several very dangerous kidnappers. Somehow depositing gold inside the flagstones of a building.

Lady Myria LeJean, just what, exactly, are you? And what are you doing to my City?

He had hoped to speak to her completely privately, both because he had high hopes for how much information he'd get out of her, and because he felt some of the matters to be discussed might be best kept to as few ears as possible. The husband and wife had accepted immediately, probably hoping to stay as far away from him as possible. The nephew, who he had met previously, was apparently still recovering from recent injuries, which was another matter he intended to pry into at some point.

Unfortunately, he'd been unable to make any headway at all against the teenage daughter.

"Absolutely not."

"Jessica, I am sure that-"

"Hells no." She looked at Vimes. "Is Myria under arrest? Cause if she is, she's not talking until she gets one of those advocate things."

That seemed to startle him. Good gods, is this what young Sam is going to turn into? The thought made him shudder. "No." he groused. "Lady Myria is not under arrest." Myria and Jessica both relaxed slightly at this. "Though I considered taking you," he nodded at Myria, "into custody for your own protection." He held up a hand to forestall the teen's verbal assault of protest. "But Captain Carrot pointed out, rightly so, that were I to make a habit of locking people up for their own protection, I'd have to put up half the population of The Shades for the night to protect them from the other half." He seemed to find this rather amusing. More amusing than either of the girls found the situation.

"Very well, Sir Samuel." Vimes noted that in that at least, Lady Myria was true to form for nobility. She had steadfastly refused to call him 'Mister Vimes' and had finally settled on 'Sir Samuel' to be as far down from 'Your Grace' as she was willing to go. "Would you then communicate to us the purpose of this visit? It is clearly important, or you would not have done so."

Good Lord, it's like listening to a polite and very simple version of Vetinari. The Patrician was the only other person he knew who appeared to choose words so carefully. Vimes looked at Jessica Knäcke for a second. "Some of this discussion may be of a sensitive nature. Are you sure young Ms. Knäcke should be here?"

Jessica started to huff up again, but Myria forestalled it with a light touch on her shoulder. "Sir Samuel, I assure you Jessica is completely trustworthy in my affairs. We can speak of anything in her presence."

Vimes considered. Lady Myria had apparently rescued the girl, who had been kidnapped because of Myria in the first place. The fact that here they were on actual speaking terms should count for something.

"Fine." He addressed them both. "You understand that this situation is bigger than any of us?" He gave that a moment to sink in. "That…" he lowered his voice, "gold is not going away. At this moment, I've got more gold than anyone living in this city has ever seen in one place. And it's sitting in the cells at Pseudopolis Yard, looking about as innocent as a Thieves Guild convention." Myria looked uncomfortable, and Jessica's eyes widened a little. Maybe that'll take some of the teenage attitude down a notch. He shook his head. "To make matters worse, I've got Vetinari," Jessica winced at that name, "sending me messages daily asking what the hell, pardon my language, I'm going to do with it."

"I see. Yes that does sound compl-"

"I'm not done. It was bad enough before you," he pointed a calloused finger at Myria, "popped back up in the land of the living. Before that point, there was some suggestion it might be," Vimes coughed, "adopted by the city treasury, poor orphaned shiny metal, just looking for someplace to call a home." He chuckled without much humor. "Now that you are alive and well, frankly I don't know."

Jessica decided now was the moment to jump in. "But that's silly. It's Myria's isn't it? Can't she just get it back?"

Vimes gave a short, barking laugh. "Really? And just how will you get it out of the cells? And where will you put it? And can you prove it was hers?" He held up a hand as Jessica opened her mouth to protest again. "And on top of that, it's evidence of a crime." Vimes noted the different reactions, and felt a twinge of guilt. Jessica froze at the mention of the kidnapping, while Myria simply looked guilty and disturbed. This was for their own good though, and might help get through to them how serious the situation was.

"But what crime? Myria and I were the victims!"

"That's definitely what it looks like, and if it were that simple, we'd have had to return it immediately. But you know, and I know that there's more to it than that. I don't suppose you would be interested in explaining how a king's ransom got inside the floor of a house you were leasing from Rust? Help the Watch with our inquiries?"

It's amazing how slow time can pass when you know the answer to a question, and you also know that giving that answer would be a Very Bad Idea, but don't have anything remotely reasonable to offer instead.

"That's what I thought." Vimes leaned back and rubbed his face tiredly. "Don't suppose you'd consider donating it to the city?" The idea wasn't his, and he personally didn't like it, but it might simplify things.

Had it been Myria alone, she would have said yes. Surely, they would not insist I donate all of the gold? And perhaps if needed she could produce more? The idea of doing so gave her a slight tightening sensation in the back of her head.

Jessica, on the other hand, just snorted. "Seriously? You want her to just give away most of her money. How is that not just a payoff?"

That hit a nerve with Vimes, and he struggled not to get angry. This young lady is going to be trouble. He counted to ten before answering, "It's only bribery if you are getting something in return. In this case, I am told it is more like voluntary tax. And I'm no happier about this than you are. The real problem here is Rust, who claims it is his property and-"

The reaction from both females was immediate: "That is an absolute falsehood," from Myria and "Why that slimy little weasel! I don't care if he is a Lord, that's a big fat lie!" from Jessica. Myria had appeared composed, only her face reddening in indignation. The young girl, on the other hand… he thought for a moment she was going to come at him from across the table.

Vimes decided that he liked Jessica, regardless of what it boded for his own future parenting experiences, and Myria too, no matter what she might or might not be capable of. He let them both wind down. Rust was already, in Vimes opinion, the biggest tit on the face of the Disc. Making him the wealthiest one on top of that would be just too much.

"I understand your depth of feeling. But what that means is, you can't expect too much privacy for a while. Too many people know about this, and unless you hire some serious private security this is going to be nothing but trouble for you." Vimes didn't like the idea of private guards at all, though from time to time Willikins had served that purpose for his own family. But he also knew the Watch could not be expected to guard one family for days on end.

Myria frowned, "But the other nobility have money, and no one thinks to kidnap or harm them to obtain it. Why is this different?"

Is she really that innocent? "Lady LeJean, those families are paid up with the Thieves Guild and have been for years, and you are not. And no one would dream of kidnapping a Venturi or a Rust because the wrath of the entire gentry would fall on them." And if they kidnapped a Ramkin, there wouldn't be enough of the kidnappers left to bury. Vimes realized that was something he and LeJean had in common, and was quiet for a few seconds.

"Sir Samuel?"

"Sorry." Vimes considered another lesson he had learned firsthand when he married Sybil Ramkin. "On top of that most of their wealth is tied up in land, estates, big bloody houses, and so on. I doubt they have much actual," he lowered his voice again, "gold at any given time." He stared off into empty space as he mused. "Seems to me, they don't really spend, they just have." He locked eyes with Myria again, making her uncomfortable. "You on the other hand, have more money than the Temple of Blind Io, sitting all in one place, crying out to be taken home and loved by half the city."

Jessica was beginning to actually understand the magnitude of the matter, and feeling very overwhelmed. For the first time in this conversation she was at a loss for what to say. So it was Myria that approached it more logically. "But I cannot pay the Thieves Guild dues because I do not have the gold now. And I cannot spend it here so as to become like them. So you see, I am in an untenable position."

Vimes rubbed his scar, a new habit he was trying to break himself of. "Yes. Yes that's a real quandary now isn't it? And I can't give it to you because I am not sure it's legally yours." That brought another outburst from Jessica, "Calm down, calm down. My personal opinion is one thing, but I have to follow the rules. That brought vigorous affirmation from Myria and silent stewing from Jessica. The real reason, he thought to himself, is you wouldn't make it 15 feet from the Yard if we tried.

He rubbed his scar again, and stopped himself with an effort. Sighing, he placed both hands on the table and gripped the edge. "I tell you, I don't need this." He felt at his pocket and began to pull out a silver cigar case.

Jessica narrowed her eyes at him. "There's no smoking in the bakery. The smell gets into the bread."

Vimes looked put out. And I was just starting to like her too. He put it away. "Fine. Well all that's left for now is this, then." He pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Myria.

"What is it?" Jessica asked as Myria read through it.

"It is a receipt, for the gold they are holding in custody, potentially on my behalf."

"Hmph. Fat lot of good that is."

"It's proof that we have something that we acknowledge is probably yours. That's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick." Vimes stood and the two followed suit. "Let me think about this. No promises. And for now, the guards stay. For your protection." He looked pointedly at Myria. "Just… try not to do anything strange."

Does he know? Myria thought with horror.

"Yes, I am aware of what happened at the kidnapping crime scene." He took them both in with a sweeping look.

Myria gasped and Jessica felt slightly ill. Can he read my thoughts?

"And no, I'm not a mind reader." He pointed at their expressions. "That's enough both of you. I'm a copper, no matter what all those other titles say. I read faces not brains. And no I don't know how you did it, but I want nothing like that happening again. You understand me? Are we clear?"

Both of them nodded vigorously.

"Nothing left but dust." He shook his head in disturbed awe. "Three men and their weapons, and one door, turned to dust piled on the floor and the ground."

"And one gold bar, of course."

Vimes and Jessica both froze at that.

"What did you-" Vimes stopped and rubbed his stubbled chin. "I see. The ransom. You actually had it with you at the scene?"

Jessica was frantically trying to make hand signals at Myria that Vimes couldn't see, but that was practically a useless attempt[1].

Myria nodded quietly at Vimes, hoping she was not making a mistake.

"Well, well. Seems you and I are not done for the day after all." Vimes had an eager look on his face, and Jessica hoped they hadn't just made things worse instead of better. It was impressive the way he got the corporal back and soon had him splitting the watchmen into two groups, one to continue guarding the bakery and the second...

The second to accompany Myria to a certain crime scene near the Shades.

[1] Unfortunately for Jessica, anything subtle enough to get past Vimes would be so far over Myria's head it would practically be a new satellite.