Chapter 42 - Pressed For Time

Cheery arrived at the hotel the next morning, looking grim.

"I believe you are unhappy, Cheery."

Cheery shot her a look. "The commander called me to his office this morning." She looked everywhere in the room, except directly at Myria.

She has news she is unhappy to provide, Myria thought. Why do humans not wish to look at each other when providing unpleasant information? Perhaps they do not wish to see the pain it will inflict.

She was so busy running down that train of thought, that she almost missed what Cheery said next.

"The commander said that, now that the gold has been transferred to the bank, he… how did he say it…, 'can't justify having the Watch act as your personal bodyguard, especially since you can well afford it.' Sorry."

Myria felt a twang of regret. She had begun to enjoy Cheery's regular company very much. "I see." Inspiration struck, and she rallied. "Would you be interested-"

Cheery's eyes snapped to Myria's, and her face reddened. When she spoke, her voice had a strange, constrained quality to it. "No. No way no how, Myria."

I have upset her. "My apologies, Cheery. In what manner have I offended you by my suggestion?"

Cheery huffed, blowing out through her beard. "We dwarfs are a proud race, Myria. We don't hire ourselves out as guards like some... some... mercenary." She said the word in the same way Susan would have said "Auditor", which gave Myria some clue as to her feelings on the subject.

Thankfully, explaining it seemed to calm Cheery. "Though you probably wouldn't know that." She scratched at her beard. "Of course, the more traditional deep down dwarfs don't approve us being watchmen either. So I guess I should get too high and mighty about it." She sighed. "Even so, I seriously doubt the commander would approve of you hiring away one of his sergeants as your personal bodyguard. She chuckled at the thought."[1]

"My apologies again. No I was not aware of this information. I still have much to learn about other cultures."

"That I can understand. You should have seen what it was like when I first joined the Watch. Dwarfs and trolls were almost beating each others' heads in on a daily basis until we figured out that half the stuff were getting mad about was just misunderstandings."

"And the rest?"

"Oh those were insults done apurpose. But it was all in good fun."

Myria considered this additional information. "Thank you. I shall remember that private guards are not considered the equal of publicly paid watch members." She thought some more. "Still, I shall need to hire such. When I first… came to Ankh Morpork, I hired two guards from someone… called Crysoprase. Perhaps I can again…" she wound down as she saw Cheery again turning red and fuming behind her beard. "I have offended you yet again. In what manner?"

Cheery grabbed her beard and yanked. "Not offended. Just... there is no way you are hiring some granite-headed slab-peddler from Crysoprase to guard you. The commander would have my beard if he heard about it."

I do not understand. The two trolls seemed very competent and imposing."

"Wait, there were two of them? Dressed in suits? Wore dark glasses even at night?"

"Yes. That accurately describes them."

"The Carbonite Brothers. Oh man, the commander would go completely bursar if he knew that. Those guys are bad news, Myria. You do not want to be associated with them at all, much less Crysoprase. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if Crysoprase hired those creeps that kidnapped you in the first place.

Myria paled at the memory. "That would be… it would mean that it was even more my fault that…"

"Whoah! I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty. I'm just saying that you should steer clear of them. Crysoprase is one of the major bad guys in the city. Running stolen goods, selling drugs to young trolls, providing muscle for criminal elements. You want nothing to do with him."

"I see. I am afraid my knowledge of the criminal classes is sorely lacking."

"I dunno about sorely, but definitely lacking." She paced. "Tell you what, let me ask around and see if I can recommend someone at least somewhat respectable, that the commander won't give us both 'the look' over. Ok?"

"Thank you Cheery, you again prove to be a good friend."

"Yeah. I suppose so."

"I should discuss these matters with Jonathon as well. Shall we proceed to the bakery?"

"Right you are."

Arriving at the bakery, Jessica met them in the front with the latest copy of The Times, and with a sour expression. "Myria have you seen this?"

She shook her head as Jessica shoved the newspaper into her hands. The top headline made her cringe.

JAILHOUSE GOLD FLEES THE COOP!

In smaller letters below was added:

WATCH SAYS MATTER SETTLED, REFUSES TO COMMENT FURTHER.

JUSTICE DONE OR DEEPER CONSPIRACY? READERS WANT TO KNOW!

Jessica shook her head. "Can you believe those jerks?"

"Yes. I do believe, based on my understanding of them, that they are fully capable of publishing such an article."

Myria read further. The article said, with many more words than Myria felt necessary, that the gold was gone. At least one heavily armed and suspicious wagon had been seen going to the Royal Bank, whose representatives coldly but politely refused comment. A second wagon had gone to the Rust mansion. Inquiries there were met with slammed doors, and the reporter noted that a rather large bill would be submitted for one damaged camera and one broken set of glasses.

The speculation was that some sort of unsavory deal had been reached, which might have, allegedly, possibly included offering the city a cut of the gold. Something the article referred to as a 'kickback'.

'But of course,' the author protested, 'this is all unsubstantiated and just rumor.'

Myria shook her head. She was beginning to understand Commander Vimes' dislike of this particular profession. "I suppose there is little we are able to do." She lowered her voice so only Jessica would hear. "We cannot tell them the truth. I am told we must not lie to them. To engage them at all is to encourage them. To avoid them is to provoke suspicion. There are no answers."

"I gathered that. That Cripslock, she's one tough tart."

"If I understand you correctly, I am forced to agree." Myria straightened, realizing only then that she had begun to slump while reading the article. Her voice returned to normal conversational levels. "Regardless, we have more pressing obligations."

"Oh? I thought your troubles were over." Jessica laughed, clearly not believing the words herself. "What's going on now?"

"I intend to meet with Mister Sharps and with Sir Samuel."

Jessica snorted.

"What is it?"

"The way you say 'Sir Samuel' like… oh I dunno it's like you two are tea-mates or something." Myria frowned and started to speak, but Jessica just waved her hand. "Oh don't mind me, I've just got to get used to having a nob for a friend."

"I see. Very well. Then I will say instead that I must speak with the 'Commander of the Watch'. It is not right that Mister Sharps remain imprisoned, as if he were a criminal. He has committed no crime. But he has nowhere else to reside. Therefore I will arrange housing for him." She thought for a moment. "Which leads me to another conclusion. I should begin a search for my own housing as well. I cannot continue to live in a residence intended for transients and travellers."

"Yeah, plus you have enough money you could afford to buy a small city, eh?"

"Yes. And now I have learned that the commander will no longer allow Cheery to accompany me during her work times to guarantee my safety. I will have to hire the services of someone to protect me."

"Oooo.. A bodyguard! That's dragonsfire, Myria. Will they, like, throw themselves in front of a crossbow bolt for you?"

"I am unsure." Myria responded, while at the same time Cheery added, "Depends on how much you pay them and how stupid they are."

Jessica looked past Myria and smirked. "Some people do that sort of thing for free, though they might be stupid too."

"Thanks Jessie. Thanks much," a very familiar voice behind Myria responded.

Myria turned and her face lit up. "Jonathon!"

Jonathon smiled and the two embraced easily, not caring about the few customers in the bakery.

"Get a room, you two."

Myria threw Jessica a look over her shoulder and smiled. "You perceive, Jessica, that this is one of my goals which I just communicated to you."

Jessica blushed and Jonathon's face reddened as well. "That's- I didn't-"

"I am, of course, being facetious in my response, though the underlying statement was correct."

Jessica pantomimed her head exploding. "Teach her a little bit of humor, and now she's a freaking comedian."

Jonathon laughed. "Well done Myria, you almost managed to make Jessica speechless for a half second there. That's got to be a record. Are you ready to go?"

"I am. Do you have the items I suggested?"

Jonathon held up a pasteboard box. "I've got the waferbread. We'll have to do some looking to find crickets."

Jessica and Cheery shared a look. "Crickets?"

Jonathon only shook his head. "Don't ask."

[1] That was likely an understatement. Commander Vimes had the same opinion of private muscle as he did assassins and tax collectors, which was remarkably similar to how Lord Vetinari felt about mimes.