Chapter 18 - A Few Quiet Moments

It was after dusk by the time Myria and Cheery reached Pseudopolis Yard. Myria was pleasantly surprised when Cheery did not escort her to the commander's office, but instead asked her to wait outside. It was only a few minutes before Myria heard her steel-shod heels stomping through the front door again.

Cheery smiled at her. "The Commander sends his regards."

"Please tell him I am very appreciative."

"Oh I will, but not just yet. He said I could walk you back to the bakery, if you like."

Myria considered. "That is… very kind of you. Yes I would be glad of your company."

"Don't mention it," Cheery smiled again, and they set off walking the few blocks to the bakery in amiable silence.

Not everyone was pleased to see them. Myria noted two of the constables on duty there smiled warmly at Cheery, and more or less ignored her. Corporal Stroud on the other hand… he didn't confront Myria when he saw her, but she stiffened nonetheless. For his part, he managed somehow to scowl at Myria and nod a salute at Cheery in the same movement.

"Wonder what's got under Stroud's jerkin?" Cheery mused under her breath after they passed him.

"I am sorry?"

Cheery chuckled softly. "Oh something's bothering him."

"Oh." Myria flexed her fingers, wondering why her hands kept clenching around him. "Yes. I am afraid he does not like me overmuch."

Cheery grabbed the door and opened it for the both of them, smirking at the same time. "Hah. Stroud doesn't like anyone very much. Too hung up on rules if you ask me." She frowned. "Not that I'm opposed to rules mind you. Dwarfs very keen on rules, you know. But still there's rules, and then there's more guidelines.

Myria paused and half turned. "Yes. I am beginning to understand that as well."

And was tackled again, for the second time in as many days. "Myria!"

From behind her she heard Jessica's aunt laughingly inform the room that she was going to tell Jonathon that Myria was back, since Jessica seemed busy.

Cheery was grinning broadly now. "Well you certainly have friends here."

Yes. These are friends. Or perhaps they are more. But at the least, they are friends. "Yes. I truly do." She paused for a moment. "The best friends I have ever had, I would hazard."

Jessica extricated herself. "Don't forget Susan! You only missed her by a couple of hours. She was here almost the whole afternoon!"

"Yes, I shall never forget Miss Susan. What did she have to say? Does she have a pl-"

Jessica interrupted her, pointedly eyeballing Cheery "Tell you later maybe?"

"Ah," Cheery put in, "I think that's my cue. I should get back to the Yard anyway. Glad to see you safely indoors. Don't go wandering around, alright?"

"I will be safe. Thank you again Cheery. I enjoyed your company as well as your guidance."

"My pleasure."

Jessica grabbed Myria by the hand as soon as the door swung shut. "Come on! Jonny is awake and he'll want to hear all about this too."

"So how did it go?" Jonathon asked Myria.

Jessica nodded eagerly. "Yeah, what's the scoop?"

"I have learned many new things about the commander, and about banks, and," Myria shuddered, "about Mister Lavish. And it was suggested I might like a position at the bank[1]."

"But the money. How did that go?" Jessica prompted.

"Oh! Yes I was able to obtain letters of credit for the gold. I will now be able to repay your family the funds you loaned me before." She smiled happily at Jonathon, realizing this would also please him.

"That's great Myria."

"And," she continued, "I now have paid the required sums to the Thieves' Guild. I am told the news should be commonly known within the next two days."

Jessica sighed. "That's even better. Maybe then we can get rid of the goon squad."

"Jessie!"

"Well, it's true. They are making the customers nervous. And they make me nervous too."

Jonathon shook his head and then focused on Myria again and received another warm smile in return "You are looking at me strangely Jonathon."

He smiled, enjoying the sight of Myria beginning to blush before he turned to his cousin. "Jessie, could we have a few-"

"Ew. Yeah. I'd rather not see any kissy face." She stood up and began walking away with exaggerated swaying movements.

"Jessie!"

"Whatever." Pausing at the door, she fired over a shoulder "Myria come get me whenever you two are through making slurpy noises, and I'll fill you in on Susan's plans. Ta-ta!"

She turned to laugh at their expressions, and caught a balled-up sock right in the face from Jonathon.

It was a stinky sock too.

It was worth the pain, Jonathon decided, to see Jessica speechless for once.

"You look marvelous Myria."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you look much more alive, even than you did this morning. I guess the stress was wearing on you too."

Myria considered. "I suppose so. I was not aware of it then. But now that you point out the possibility, I do feel lighter somehow." She looked him over as he sat propped up in bed. "You look much better as well."

"Yeah. When the dresses arrived, I knew things were at least going in the right direction. That was a load off my mind. And my ribs don't hurt as much today."

"The dresses? Oh! Yes I have more clothing now!" Myria clutched the cloth of her skirts sadly. "It is as well, since these were becoming unpresentably soiled."

Jonathon laughed quietly. "I don't mind." He looked solemn suddenly. "You know, we were having a conversation yesterday. About your newfound self-confidence and independence."

"Yes. I am finding it easier to be with myself. It is not so terrifying, after all I have seen.

"But you still care for me?"

Myria thought carefully, and Jonathon's breathing almost stopped. "I do. What if I did not?"

"That would be very sad."

"Yes. I believe it would, but I am not sure of my… feelings. I have nothing to compare them to. What if they are the wrong ones?"

"Well, let's see. What would you feel if you saw me kissing another wo-"

"Jonathon!" Her face turned red and her hands clenched.

"Ok ok." He laughed. "You managed to not hit me that time, but I'm thinking you wanted to."

"It makes me angry when you do that. Why do you do that?"

"Maybe I'm learning the wrong lessons from Susan." He coughed and grimaced. "She has a way of getting to the heart of the matter in unpleasant ways. She's an odd one isn't she?"

"I believe that depends on how you define the term 'odd'. I am not sure what normal is yet, Jonathon."

"Point made." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and looked at Myria in a way that made her feel suddenly less angry and more nervous. "So… are you too angry to be kissed?"

Myria definitely felt nervous... and a slightly dizzy feeling washed over her. "No, I do not think I am so angry as that."

"Good."

There was a long, quiet moment that was almost perfect. Followed by many more that were even better. It was more than an hour later that a very light-headed and flushed Myria LeJean made her way from the room, leaving behind an equally dazed young man with a slight smile on his face.

Commander Vimes leaned back in his chair and eyeballed Cheery, which didn't take much eyeballing. "Well?"

"She's an odd one, that's for sure commander. But I like her."

"Good. I'd like you to keep an eye on her, Cheery. We can't keep a company of men hanging around that bakery all day and night, but I want a at least one set of eyes on her." He waved off Cheery's protest. "I'm not asking you to spy on anyone. Just keep an eye out for trouble."

"Yessir."

Somewhere in the Shades, two men conferred in a bar. We call them men because they called each other male epithets when they'd had a few drinks and were in a good mood, and because they walked on two legs. But honestly, they were lacking in some of the basic character traits that we typically associate with mankind.[2]

"There ain't no money in it," the larger of the two rumbled. Jolly looked like a happy fat man, complete with rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes. Unfortunately beneath those layers of nature's insulation were some impressive muscles and a heart black as soot.

"This ain't about money, chief. This is about evening the scales," his associate added as he flipped a complicated hinged knife back and forth. His lank frame draped over the opposite bench with misleading ease. The way the knife moved back and forth, sometimes appearing to pass through some of his fingers in the process, was quite mesmerizing, but it didn't pay to watch too closely.[3]

"See, Flasher, that's where my hearing keeps getting fuzzy. You keep saying there's no money in it, but there's all that gold they say is in the watchhouse cellars. I keep asking you how offing some tart gets us that gold, and you say it's not about the gold."

"That tart killed off Snakes, Butcher, and Jimmy." Flasher's hand paused for a second, then reversed direction. "We spent the last four years working with them and we only ever had one rule."

"Never turn yer back on 'em?"

"Besides that one."

"Umm…"

"No one crosses us. That's how we kept our heads with the Guild and the Sammies and every other cutthroat and tough in the Shades wanting to help relieve us of 'em. Anyone what knew who we were knew that if you messed with one of us, or worse squealed on one of us, that was it for yez." It's a shame about Brucie too. I wish we coulda sprung him instead of him committin' suicide in the Tanty like that."

"Yeah, him considering talking to the Sammies… that was suicide all right… but this is different."

"It won't be if the others see that we can be offed by some nobby lady. It'll be our funerals next."

"We don't know for sure that's what happened."

"You tell me then. You tell me what happened." The shiny contraption reversed gears again, closing and opening like a butterfly's wings. "All's I know is, I left the safe house with that girl all trussed up safe as porridge, and passed Snakes and Butcher escorting that nob to it blindfolded and meek as a kitten. Fifteen minutes later I feel like someone's walked over my grave and I go back to find the place empty and a Sammy snooping about the neighborhood. No sign of Snakes or Butcher or Jimmy anywhere, and now the Sammies say they're dead."

Jolly shook three chins and a set of cheeks. "Maybe they did a runner."

There was a pause and a thin, dark knife suddenly appeared flat on the table between them. "I could cut yer for a crack like that, Jolly."

"You could try." Jolly smiled wide, "You'd have to work a while to get to anything important, and I wouldn't be standing still while you was working at it."

Flasher snorted. "Fine. Fair enough." The knife disappeared. "But you know they would'na run without the gold. And they ain't got the gold. I'm telling you, that woman did something to 'em. And word'll get around that our crew got gutted, half our boys offed, by a nob. And then were'll we be?"

"Got a point there…" the big man said, eyeballing the knife in Flasher's hand.

"Of course I do. So here's what I'm thinking…"

Just outside the servants entrance at Rust Manor, Feddleman stared at a lean figure with eyes wide and jaw agape. "Why didn't you tell me before she was alive?"

"I only found out yesterday, Mr. Feddleman. I didn't think it would mat-"

"I don't pay you to think." Feddleman hissed. "I pay you for information. Do you have any idea how angry His Lordship was?" He paused to consider, and swallowed. "No, you couldn't possibly know."

"I'm sorry Mr. Feddleman," the man bobbed his head nervously. The truth was, he had found out yesterday, and it had taken him all day to get the nerve to come tell Feddleman.

"Sorry. You are sorry. Yes remember that when we are both on the street unable to see and begging for coins."

His informant gasped. "Surely His Lordship wouldn't have us blinded for not finding out a day earlier?"

"Blinded? Heavens no, His Lordship is not a barbarian."

"Thank the gods."

"No, the reason we wouldn't be able to see, is because he'd have our ears torn off, and our hats would fall over our eyes." He considered as the man turned slightly green. "Yes it's slightly less horrible to imagine, but only marginally."

Somewhere that was, in any meaningful way, nowhere at all, three cowled figures conferred.

Something must be done regarding the entity LeJean.

It considers itself an *I*.

It is an abomination.

Surely, it can do us no further harm. Why is there need for further intervention?

If the Auditors were able to feel emotion, one would characterize the following silence as "seething". But of course, they cannot, so it must surely be our imagination.

Right. Right. Pretend I didn't a- *pop*

Upon which, the unlucky Auditor was immediately replaced by another who was, shall we say, of much more like mind.

We cannot risk direct physical intervention again, the first Auditor continued.

Another silence. The Auditors would have shuddered with revulsion at the idea of physical intervention, had there been glands involved. The Poker tended to have that effect on some creatures.

The second hazarded, Perhaps there is… another way. Surely there are any number of individuals who can be… persuaded… that removing the entity LeJean is in their own best interests?

[1] We are not talking about her conversation with Mister Lavish, mind you. We are talking about the position suggested by the clerk. As in a job. Sheesh…

[2] Starting with "not wanting to cut your throat as soon as looking at you, and working up from there. Paragons of society they weren't, unless it was the Narcissus Society of Sadistic Barstards you were referring to. And we call it a bar, because it was made of wood, and there was alcohol involved, but really places like that are little more than Schrödinger's Barfight en Potentia.

[3] Because, while you were watching that shiny and practically useless piece of complicated metal flashing around, it would do well to wonder what the hell the bastard was doing with his other hand and the very plain and above all very sharp blade he kept in his pocket before you found out the hard way.