Chapter 16 - Weevils, Weasels, Journalists, and Other Pests

"I have got to get out of this room. I'm going to go mad in here!" Jonathon refrained from making any sudden hand or head gestures to emphasize his point. He'd learned that lesson after the third, or perhaps fourth, painful result.

"Well you can't, so stop fretting and eat something." Jessica had brought him what her mother had called "a bracing broth" along with some willowbark tea that he was to finish, per Rosemarie's orders. Instead, Jessica thought he was going to vibrate off the bed.

"I can't help it! It's been hours since she left with the watch, and she still isn't back." He fixed her with the best glare that an invalid could muster, which wasn't all that intimidating frankly. "I can't believe you let her go without at least waking me up and telling me."

"Hah, right. It's not like I had a choice. You met the commander of the Watch. Did he strike you as the type to take no for an answer?" She shook her head.

Jonathon's frustration faded a little, and he managed a wry grin. "Wow. He even intimidated you? Somebody write this down, we may need it later when you start dating."

Jessica fixed him with a mock glare of her own. "Watch it cousin, or I'll sit on your chest." She swatted his arm playfully, and he smiled a little more genuinely.

"Still, w-"

"Jessicaaa!" Her mother's voice wafted from downstairs. "Come down for a second!"

"Maybe that's news!" Jessica threw over her shoulder as she hustled out. "Be right back."

It was only a few minutes before Jessica wandered back up the stairs, but they seemed like an hour to the frustrated Jonathon. When she got there, she stood with a thoughtful look on her face, chewing her lip.

"Well?! What was it?"

Jessica started a bit. "Oh, sorry, it was a little odd. There was a messenger. You know the ones that you can hire on the street to run little errands for you and such?"

"Yes yes. What about it? Was it about Myria?"

"Yeah, but it was the odd part. He claimed that he had delivered a message to Bullworth's for her about an hour ago, and showed us a scribble he said was their stamp and signature confirming receipt, and wanted the rest of the payment."

"So it wasn't a message from Myria at all? Wait, Bullworth's… isn't that the place where you went clothes shopping with her?"

Jessica gritted her teeth, and he made a note to ask her for more details about that little adventure later[1]. "Don't remind me. I still want to pay that weasel back for his attitude." She frowned. "But yeah. That must be what it's about. She paid for, like two or three more dresses and they were going to deliver them to that house that she had rented." She smacked her forehead. "Of course, they never got delivered right? And she needs clothes so she's having them delivered here."

Jonathon exhaled, feeling some of his worry going with it. "Well that's good. Myria wouldn't be paying for a messenger unless she had some money and was able to spend it. And if she was arrested, she wouldn't be sending for dresses, right? She'd have bigger problems." He winced a little as he tried to shift positions.

"Yeah, and I asked the messenger what she was doing when she hired him. He gave me a funny look, and then suggested another pence might help his memory." Jessica picked up Jonathon's tea and pushed it at him, refusing to continue until he took a long drink of it. "He said she was heading up Broadway just off the Brass Bridge, walking with some dwarf watchman. And according to him she seemed fine, the two were chatting like they were old friends. So she's not sitting in jail, that's for sure, but she's wandering around with a watchman. It doesn't sound to me like she's completely free to go and do what she wants either."

Jonathon relaxed even further. "Still, it eases my mind, knowing she's not been arrested at least." He looked at Jessica carefully. "You know why I worry about her. There's no telling what she could get into on her own."

"I know I know."

Jonathon scratched at his side and winced. "I keep getting blasted itches I can't reach. I'll be glad when I can get these bandages off."

"Well, Dr. Lawn said it will be a couple more days, and you're the one decided to play hero. Only yourself to blame this time."

"Hah. Ouch."

Jessica leaned over and in a rare display of actual affection, kissed her cousin on the forehead. "Back later. Read your silly boy books and try to relax."

Jonathon narrowed his eyes at her. "Gee, thanks. Get your behind downstairs. I heard your ma complaining about weevils in the flour earlier.

"Right. She wasn't talking about the flour, and she wasn't talking about the kind of weevils with six legs." She motioned toward the front of the bakery downstairs, where a varying number of watchmen could still be seen meandering about from time to time.

"Ah. Right."

It was about an hour later, well after tea time, that Jessica saw Susan Sto Helit walk through the open bakery door. Jessica flashed her mother a smile, getting a nod in return, and hurried over and threw her arms around Susan's neck. "You're back!"

Susan, startled beyond imagining, actually blushed a little as she tried to extract herself from the enthusiastic teen. "Oh good grief, I was here just yesterday."

Jessica stepped back but her smile didn't dim. "Well yeah, but it's still great to see you."

Susan found her smile infectious. "It's good to see you too Jessica." She appraised her. "You know, you look better by the day."

"Thanks to you!"

"True, but don't gush."

Jessica looked past Susan's shoulder through the open door and saw a couple of watchmen talking quietly. "Hey, those guys didn't give you any trouble did they?"

Susan looked back, and smiled grimly. "Hmph. No, I doubt they even realize I'm here now." She seemed to catch herself, startled at the admission, and then went on. "Regardless, I need to talk to Myria."

Jessica's smile faltered. "Um…."

Susan closed her eyes. "Don't tell me. She isn't here, yet again. What has she done now?"

Jessica filled her in quickly and, with a few pointed questions, fully as well.

"Well, it could definitely be worse."

Jessica peered at her face carefully. "So, you trust Commander Vimes?"

"Vimes? Oh he's trustworthy in a way, I suppose. That is to say, I doubt he'd lie to you. But if what I hear of him is true, his loyalties are to the Patrician and his own silly ideas about justice. I tend to prefer not dealing with the Watch and its commander if at all possible."

"Oh. That doesn't sound good." Jessica motioned to a table in the corner, and Susan gratefully walked over to it and seated herself. She was pleasantly surprised when Rosemarie appeared quickly with a beautifully baked cake and some tea before disappearing into the back again.

Susan took a small bite, and followed it with a sip of tea before continuing. "It can work in our favor, or not. It depends on whether His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes, the Duke of Ankh decides ours is the 'right' side to be on." She gave a sour look, then brightened. "I learned that he doesn't like Rust at all, and that helps our cause."

"Is that what you've been doing? Finding out stuff?"

"Yes. That is exactly what I've been doing. I suppose it was time I put my title to more use than just something I add to my name when I feel like it. "

"What did you find out?" Jessica knew that Susan was nobility, of some sort, and decided she would ask about that if things settled enough to do it.

"Many things," was the enigmatic response.

Jessica raised an eyebrow and sarcastically followed with "any of them helpful things?"

"Perhaps. For one thing, because both Rust and Myria (at least nominally) are nobility, there are special rules that can apply to them and not to the unwashed masses." She caught herself. "Sorry Jessica, my sense of humor can be-."

Jessica laughed, "Yeah whatever. You were talking about helpful things, like…"

Susan sighed. "For one thing, in a dispute over ownership of property, either one can request a hearing before a tribunal of peers instead of submitting to the general law of the city. I'm not sure of the details yet, however."

Jessica looked confused, and Susan took the opportunity for another bite of cake and sip of tea. It really was quite good. "But… I thought the Patrician had final say in everything? Isn't he like a tyrant or something?"

Susan smiled and looked away for a moment, then collected herself. "Well yes… technically he does have final say. But strange as it may sound, part of the reason Vetinari has ruled so long is because, as far as I can tell, he almost never actually orders people around. He's remained dictator by not dictating, if that makes sense."

"Nope, none at all." Jessica laughed and played with the sugar spoon, making swirls in the nearby bowl as she listened. This was an entirely new world for her.

"Let me try to explain then. Not that I ordinarily take much interest in city-wide affairs, but from what I have been able to determine, whenever something big is going on, things just fall out the way Vetinari would prefer." She shook her head in admiration. And I suspect I could learn a thing or two from him, though it pains me to admit it.

"Alright."

"So one of two things is happening. Either he is very perceptive and well-informed, and sees which way things are going, and just gets in front of whichever way things are going, or he is the most clever man I have ever seen and manipulates practically all the influential people," except me, "in the city to do exactly what he wants them to do." She sat back and let Jessica digest that a little.

"That's mad."

"Perhaps. Did you follow that little spat over Leshp two years ago?[2]

"Leshp? Wasn't that the stinking island?"

"Sinking island… though from what I remember, that may have been true too."

"Well, I remember there was going to be a war. Jonathon got the crazy idea of joining the regiments, and I made fun of him until he admitted it was stupid. Well, that and ma and da threatened to disown him if he did. Other than that I didn't pay much attention, since I was just a kid[3]."

"Hmmm. What do they teach children these days? Regardless, the whole affair was a mess. First there was an actual war declared against Klatch, and before you know it, it just fizzled out. And somewhere in between, Vetinari actually handed over command of the entire city to Rust of all people." Susan stared off into the distance, tea held halfway to her mouth. "Vetinari never lifted a finger as far as anyone can tell. Not to prevent the war, nor to start the war, and certainly not to stop the war other than having a treaty ready when the moment was right." She smiled. "But somehow, everything fit together like clockwork in the end, with him looking like a genius." She shook her head in admiration. "I don't know how he does it. It's like magic."

"Ok, I understand the history lesson." Susan cocked an eyebrow at her. "But I still don't understand how that helps us?"

"The point, my young friend, is that this situation is big. It is big enough that it impacts the entire city. And that means that Vetinari is going to be involved, somehow."

Jessica stopped playing with the sugar and stared at Susan. "Are you saying… that the Patrician… of the entire city… might help Myria?

"Not at all. What I am saying is that if he does not want her to see her gold returned, then there is no hope at all of that occurring and we might as well do nothing. However, if we assume that he does want the gold returned, and rely on him to directly do anything about it, Myria also loses. What we must do is assume Vetinari wants the gold out of Rust's hands, and work toward that end ourselves."

Jessica absorbed this, eyes widening. "Wow, that's… that's twisty."

Susan pursed her lips. "That, my friend, is Vetinari." Another sip of tea. "So, we assume Vetinari doesn't want Rust to have it, but that he won't intervene directly. Therefore, we need to find a way that allows him to do his work, but that does not require him to make the decision himself. And lo, here we have the tribunal. Now all we have to do is request it, and see how things lead from there."

Jessica was about to describe just how bonkers that sounded, when they were distracted by a noise outside the bakery.

"No, you cannot go in." Corporal Stroud stood, hands on hips, mimicking the same stance and attitude he had used when first confronted with Susan, Jonathon, and Myria a few days ago. And probably with the same end result.

"Are you saying, constable, that The Times is not allowed to buy fresh baked goods?" Sacharissa Cripslock had a completely innocent look on her face, belied completely by the notebook held in her left hand and the pen poised in her right. Stroud found his gaze drawn by it and reacted as if it were a fanged serpent.

"Miss Cripslock," he managed, dragging his eyes away, "The Times is a newspaper. It doesn't buy baked goods. It doesn't eat."

Sacharissa smirked. "Well, I do, and I'm hungry." She waved her pencil at the bakery. "And I want some bread. The fact that I happen to be a reporter is beside the point."

Stroud glared at her, then latched onto the next argument. "And your reason for bringing along your photographer who, I point out, is not only carrying a camera with the lens thing off, but also happens to be a vampire.

"I am shocked constable, that you would make issue of Otto's species."

"Good grief, the point is, he doesn't eat bread… and stop writing things down!"

Stroud started when Otto spoke up, his tone amused. "Vell, I might like to take some pictures of ze baking. It could be a human interest story." Otto smiled, and the sight of two slightly-too-pointed canines disturbed Stroud further.

He shook himself trying to keep the conversation on track. He could handle this, right? No need to get the Sergeant involved. "Not buying it." Seeing the reporter about to write something else down, he raised his hand. "Fine. I can't stop you," he pointed at Sacharissa, "from buying some bread. But the photographer stays outside. And I'm coming in with you." He turned, motioning her to follow.

"So you are guarding the bakery, or me? From what or who?"

Stroud froze and she watched his back tense before whirling back to her. "You just said you weren't after a story!"

"I said no such thing, constable. I said I was hungry and wanted to buy some bread. I can still interview you, no law against that."

Stroud made a face. "I have nothing to say."

Sacharissa Cripslock began writing furiously, muttering just loud enough for Stroud to hear. "Hmmm… Watch Dedicates Valuable Manpower to Guard Bakery against Unknown Threat. Refuses Comment." She could see, out of the corner of her eye, Stroud's face redden, then turn white as she spoke.

"You're not going to trick me, miss," Stroud managed in a strangled voice. "My lips are sealed."

"Good, that way you won't interrupt. Otto, why don't you get some shots of typical Ankh-Morpork street scenes while I grab a bite to eat. Make sure you get a few shots of some of the more prominent businesses please.

"Hahah. Right on it." With a grin, the vampire wandered down the street to get the best angle of the bakery entrance… which photo would incidentally also show at least one of the watchmen hovering on a nearby rooftop. As she and Stroud walked to the bakery entrance, she composed a second headline in her head, Watchman Suffers Nervous Breakdown at Local Bakery, Loses Consciousness, Revived by Bucket of Ice-Cold Water. Yes that would do nicely.

[1] For more about Myria and Jessica's pleasant and unpleasant adventures in shopping, hairstyling, and overall pampering which also unfortunately included a rather smelling stray dog and some even more objectionable nobby types, see From Dust to Flesh by this author.

[2] See the master Sir Terry Pratchett's book Jingo for the story of Leshp and the resulting hilarity.

[3] Note to parents. Sixteen is practically an adult. Fourteen is just a kid. In between is a sort of parental purgatory. (Ah who are we kidding, just hide under the bed when they turn 12 up until they finish college.)