Chapter 31 - Trick or Treat

There was some difficulty in choosing a dining establishment.

Ankh Morpork had come a long way, gastronomically, since the old days when it was almost exclusively human in population.

First Vetinari had encouraged the immigration of dwarves and trolls. Then had come others, or else they had always been there and had come out of the shadows. Gnolls, gnomes, black ribboner vampires, zombies, more or less civilized werewolves and various ghastlies and ghoulies. And with each immigrant population, came entire industries dedicated to them, popping up like fungi in a damp yard.

Restaurants were no exception. First had come your basic 'rat onna stick' dwarf delicatessen and "coal by the hod" troll eatery. Then came "boutique" specic restaurants like Gimlet's Hole Foods serving dwarf bread, fried rat, and even soya rat for the health conscious dwarf.

But it's a far cry from each species having multiple dining choices, to having a restaurant that catered to more than one kind of patron. First you had to convince a troll, dwarf, or human that they actually wanted to associate with each other. It was only years later that enterprising owners, and dwarf entrepreneur Gimlet was one of the first, decided there was money in a mixed clientele establishment. In many ways the Watch, with its forced adoption of diversity and thirst for ale, was the vanguard of the customer base. As a result taverns were the first to catch on, alcohol being the great equalizer.

But there were still hurdles to overcome.

"Seriously, you eat rat?" Hardlee had, let us say, led somewhat of a sheltered existence.

"So? You eat cow. I mean really have you seen the amount of poo those things generate?"

"That's hardly the same thing. Cows eat grass. Rats eat… well practically anything."

Cheery raised her eyebrows. "There you go. More balanced diet, from our viewpoint. Can't be healthy, shoving landscape in one of those moo and poo factories all day." She scratched her beard. "Besides, rat isn't all that bad, provided you have enough ketchup. Personally, I prefer a quatre rodenti pizza. S'got newts and chillis. Put hair on your face that one."

Hardlee shuddered slightly, then shook himself. "Know what? Never mind. Let's let Myria decide. Myria, what do you want to eat?"

Myria had been watching this exchange feeling slightly fascinated, and more than a little ill from the morning's stress. "Oh! I… I do not have a preference. I am not hungry."

"Good grief, you haven't eaten anything since breakfast. You must be starving. As your attorney, I must advise you to eat something. We don't want you passing out during the afternoon session."

"I assure you, I am fine. And I have a… special diet. Though I would be pleased to sit with you."

Hardlee narrowed his eyes. "Fine, but you still have to help us pick where to eat."

Myria cast her eyes up and down the Maul, trying to ignore any shops that focused on desserts or, gods forbid, chocolate. "Perhaps, that establishment? Der Ratskillet? It appears that they also serve non-rat foods."

"Fair enough, let's check it out. I'm starving."

Upon closer inspection, it appeared Der Ratskillet did indeed serve a mixed clientele. The building rose two stories above the street, but in keeping with the name, the restaurant appeared to be below street level. Stairs led down past a retaining wall to a small landing below street level. This allowed a narrow row of windows at basement level, but unfortunately also served to collect and funnel in water during rainstorms.[1]

They were just about to head down the steps when a wheezing and red-faced courier intercepted them with a small package.

"S'cuse me miss," a cough "are you Lady LeJean?" He panted, leaning against the retaining wall for support.

Myria blinked. "I am she."

"I was paid," he gasped, "to deliver this package to you, miss." He waved the package, still trying to catch his breath. "Express delivery. Extra charge and all."

Cheery looked suspiciously at the box. "Who by?"

The young man had collected himself a bit more. "Man said he was a baker. Said it was for her special diet, sir." Cheery glowered a bit.[2] "Paid me twice the normal rate if I'd hurry. Ran all the way here from Isle of Gods."

"Jonathon!" Myria's face lit up and she took the box from the courier, who staggered over to a nearby stoop to sit down.

Hardlee shook his head. Young love. "Look can we get going? We still have to order and they'll be expecting us back in a couple of hours."

"Of course." They made their way down the steps and found a free table. Inside the restaurant was surprising. Instead of a dark, dank cellar, the proprietors had ripped out the ground floor, creating a two-story open space with a high ceiling crossed with beams and arches. For a moment, she thought she caught a flash of flame orange among the rafters, but decided it must have been a trick of the light.

The waiter stopped by to take their orders, starting with Myria. "I will have a water, boiled, if you please."

"Would you like to see our selection of teas, my lady?"

"No, just water. Thank you." Myria regarded the box in her hands. "Jonathon is very thoughtful, though I am unsure whether I can eat. I do not feel well."

The other two ordered and the waiter disappeared back to the kitchens.

"So what is this special diet?" Hardlee asked, gesturing to the box.

Myria opened it, revealing what looked to Hardlee like a couple dozen small and very plain looking bread-things. He gave Myria a dubious look. "Those don't look very filling."

"It is a special diet."

"You said that. Twice. Mind if I try one?"

"Please do. But I warn you, I am told they are quite bland to… other people."

Hardlee picked up a wafer and brought it to his nose, sniffing cautiously. "Smells as much like nothing as it looks." Shrugging and giving Cheery a 'what the hell' look, he tossed it in.

Myria likewise chose one from the box and brought her hand to her now-watering mouth, just in time to hear Hardlee's next words.

"Wow! That's incredible!"

Myria's hand froze with a wafer halfway inside her mouth.

Cheery looked from one to the other, confused. "What's it taste like?"

Suddenly paralyzed, unable to turn her neck, Myria struggled to clearly see Hardlee's expression. But from the corner of her eyes, it seemed to be one of absolute bliss. He smacked. "It's as if it's made out of pure ambrosia!" He explored a tooth with his tongue. "I mean it smells and looks like, well, nothing. But the taste! Your Jonathon must really be smitten!"

No. Her heart hammered in her chest. She feared it would explode. Jonathon would not do this. No. Nononono. But her arm refused to move, refused to pull away from her face. Her brain was screaming at her muscles to do something, anything, to get that thing away from her face.

And her mouth was watering, saliva gushing from glands seemingly intent on suicide.

"I mean, it practically melted in my mouth!"

Please stop talking.

"It was the most amazing thing I've ever tasted!"

Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup!

"Can I have another?" Without waiting, he reached toward the box before finally realizing she hadn't answered, and looked at her. "What in the world is wrong with you?"

Cheery caught on too. "Myria! What's wrong?"

Myria couldn't answer. The wafer was there, just between her lips, between her teeth. If she spoke… her lips, or her teeth, might… contact it. She heard a distressing sound, and realized she was whimpering.

Cheery's copper instincts fully kicked in. She didn't have to know the details about Myria's 'special diet' to know that something was seriously wrong, and it involved that little morsel that Myria seemed unable to budge. "Oh my gods, Myria. Is it… is it poisoned?!"

Several things happened at once.

Hardlee's face went through several colors, and he promptly stuck his fingers down his throat, turned, and threw up on the patron at the next table.

Cheery, moving quickly but carefully, grabbed Myria's hand and pulled it away from her now drooling mouth.

Whereupon Myria, released from terror-induced paralysis, screamed bloody murder and threw the deadly treat across the room.

Struggling for breath, she realized there was still an entire box of them, less than two feet from her still salivating mouth. Throwing herself backward and upsetting the chair, she staggering to her feet.

There was a sudden shock of cold in the room, to the point where several of the nearby patrons' drinks iced over and Cheery and Hardlee's breath fogged the air. But it was nothing compared to the cold Myria felt inside.

She didn't remember making a conscious decision. It just happened.

When the Watch interviewed the patrons afterward, all they could get from most of them was that it got very cold suddenly, and then the whole place was full of this grey fog that you could barely see through. It was lucky more weren't hurt in the stampede for the exits.

Cheery was tight-lipped about what she saw, insisting she would give her report to the commander personally. Hardlee insisted he had been too busy throwing up to see anything at all.

And Myria… Myria was in no condition to be questioned. One moment there was the table. The box. The wafers. The next moment, with the sudden sound of a forming vacuum it all contracted to a point, and then exploded into a grey haze of particles.

Followed by darkness and a loud thump, as Myria collapsed into a senseless heap.

As the Librarian swung his way back through the rooftops to the Library of Unseen University, he thought about things.

No one had asked him if he had seen anything.

For one thing, no one notices a very large orangutan hanging out near the ceiling. For another, even if they had, they wouldn't have thought to ask him any questions anyway[3], which was just as well by him.

From his vantage point among the rafters, he saw enough to be sure of two things.

First, that this Myria creature was more than she seemed, and he intended to do a bit of reading to find out why.

Second, that it looked like he'd get the afternoon off to do so, considering the current state of 'Lady LeJean'.

[1] Management had apparently attempted to turn this into a "feature" by hanging wooden fish in the lightwell.

[2] He had overlooked that the dwarf was wearing lipstick. It happened more than Cheery liked. She was considering taking more drastic action to clear up the humans' confusion in the future.

[3] Unless it was Captain Carrot, who always did. The Librarian liked Carrot more than most humans, which wasn't saying much really.