63 - With a Bow

It was midmorning before Myria felt rested enough to arise and dress for the trip home. Jonathon had already gathered most of her things, with the rest to be sent home later. Doctor Lawn declared her fit for discharge, but made her promise to rest for at least a week.

Myria found walking out of the clinic with Jonathon to be strange. She felt… exposed. That and the lingering aches kept her distracted, to the point she barely noticed Jackstone's greeting.

"You still look tired," Jonathon remarked as the coach made its way back to Kings Way. He frowned slightly, noting the dark bruises under her eyes.

Myria rested her head against him. "I do not feel completely recovered. My head still aches. And it feels like every movement is an effort."

"Doctor Lawn did say you might not bounce back immediately."

"Yes."

When they reached the residence, Jackstone opened the coach and helped her down. She realized then part of what was missing.

"Roustam. He is not here."

"He went back to the embassy."

"I shall miss his presence. He was… reassuring. Confident."

"He was that."

"I would like to retire to my bed."

Myria was surprised when Jonathon helped her to bed, and further when he curled up next to her until she fell asleep. He didn't realize he'd dozed off as well until Missus Jackstone tapped quietly on the door.

"Mister Hardlee's here. I put him in the sitting room with all the chairs."

"Thank you, Missus.

Hardlee rose when Jonathon entered the room. "Hardlee. How are you?"

"Doing well, sir. How's the lady?"

"She's tired, but recovering, is this business or a social call."

"Little bit of both." Hardlee rummaged in a case beside the chair. "I understand Roustam resigned. I've taken the liberty, I hope you'll forgive me, of drafting a formal termination of contract letter." He handed it over.

"Yes, of course."

"I also included a suitable… letter of apology. May have been forward of me, I know, but much as I may have banged heads with him, he did his best."

Jonathon glanced over the letter. "I think that's reasonable. I'm sure Myria will approve."

Myria awoke a couple of hours after Hardlee left, and announced she would like to eat and desired some more willowbark tea. She looked a little better, but Jonathon was starting to become concerned that the rest didn't seem to be doing its job.

"Headache still there?"

"Yes. It does not seem to dissipate."

Jonathon frowned. "Do you feel up for a short walk? Do you think that would help?"

"Perhaps after we have eaten."

Myria wasn't sure what constituted a 'short walk', but it turned out a stroll around the block was all she had the energy for. She would have enjoyed it more, if she weren't preoccupied with what was going on in her head. She also would have realized more quickly that Jonathon was asking her a question?

"I am sorry?"

"I said, you're very quiet. What are you thinking?"

Myria blinked. "I am thinking many things. I am grieved at the loss of Roustam's esteem. And I am attempting to come to terms with my newfound freedom. And the head ache will not go away. And I am considering a plan of action. I am sorry if I have been distracted."

"It's alright. Just let me know if you want to talk about it." They walked the rest of the way back to the residence as Jonathon mulled all of that over. Settling her into her rooms, he brought her some more tea. Then he sat on the sofa opposite her, clearly waiting for her to start the conversation.

This is what it means to be honest, and to trust someone. "I would be pleased to discuss it with you, now."

"Alright. I'm all ears."

Myria smiled at the image, and explained why she was preoccupied, and what it might mean. It didn't take long, even with his questions.

"Are you sure this won't make things worse?"

"I am unsure. That is why I have not yet tried."

Jonathon stood and paced for a bit. "Can we test it out first?"

"Yes. I suppose we can, but there may be legal and ethical considerations."

"Legal we can handle. I'll send a note to Hardlee. Ethical… well we'll just have to play that by ear."

"Play it by…" Why do humans insist on such numerous sayings based around organs?

"Do the best we can, ourselves."

"I see. Yes, I will defer to your judgment." Myria considered. "I should also send a note to Mister Stibbons, so he does not become concerned."

"And Susan. I think she should know about this too."

"Yes. Of course she should be there as well."

Myria found it difficult to sleep that night, even with Jonathon's presence beside her, which was reassuring. She was unsure whether his family would approve, but suspected that at this point Jonathon did not care.

The visitors began arriving early the next morning.

Stibbons was the first, arriving almost two hours before the time requested and nearly vibrating with excitement. He had used the university coach this time, and had brought several crates of equipment with him and a rather large blank scroll and ample writing supplies.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, Lady LeJean!" He babbled as he set up his equipment in the formal sitting room. "The data from this experiment will help us push the bounds of Thaumic Parity Theory by leaps and bounds!"

While Myria wasn't sure she appreciated being an experiment, she had to concede that was an apt description. "I felt it only fair, since it is in part due to your insights that I have this possible resolution to my problem."

Jessica bounced her way in only a few minutes later, making several off-color comments about whether they'd gotten any sleep at all. Myria chose not to rise to the bait, and Jonathon just rolled his eyes.

Susan and Hardlee arrived at almost the same time. After greeting Susan warmly, Myria turned to her attorney. "Mister Hardlee, were you able to consider the question I asked?"

Hardlee squirmed a little. "I'd prefer to have a few more days to research case law, but it's leaning heavily in your favor. I can't make any promises, though."

"That is reasonable. Thank you. Shall we be seated?"

Susan cleared her throat as she sat, "I for one would like to hear, in more detail, this wizard's theory in more detail. I want to ensure we completely understand the risks before Myria does anything hasty."

Ponder's face broke into a grin and he stood quickly, then he grimaced. "One moment, I have to visit the privy."[1]

Upon returning, it took a good two hours for him to go through the explanation, due in part to frequent question from Susan. Myria had long since reached her own conclusions, and most of the explanation was over the others' heads.

"So we are agreed to proceed?"

There were nods of assent.

"That was amazing!" Stibbons exclaimed. "I've never seen anything like that!"

Jessica and Hardlee found themselves catching each others' glance. I have, that glance said. And it wasn't nearly as pleasant that time.

"Yes, yes." Susan interjected, "I'm sure it was a marvel to behold. But the real question is, Myria, how do you feel?"

Myria did some mental inventory and took a deep breath. "I believe… based on this trial attempt, that we should proceed."

"So be it. Mister Stibbons, I suggest you prepare yourself. This is likely to be exciting."

Several days later, there was a scream, somewhere in the city. It was not the scream of someone who has found a dead body, nor of one who has just been mortally wounded. It was the sound of someone who has realized that nothing in this world is quite as under their control as they imagined. The scream of someone who believes they have just been violated beyond bearing.

It was followed by two other events, in relatively short order. The first was a meeting of a certain group of partners. At which some very troubling news was received as well.

The second was a visitor at the residence on Kings Way.

Captain Carrot was surprised at who answered the door.

"Mister Hardlee! "How are you?"[2]

"Ah, Captain Carrot. I'm well thank you. How may I be of assistance?"

"Er… Is Lady LeJean in?"

"She is, but as her duly retained representative, I am empowered to receive any communications on her behalf." Hardlee watched Carrot's face attempt to work through all of that, and sighed. "You can give me the message, captain."

"Oh. Right. Mister Vimes would like to see Lady LeJean," his brow wrinkled "'at his earliest convenience' is what he said, but I'm not sure that's right."

"Oh I'm sure that's exactly what he meant. I'll let her know."

"Would you like me to escort you Pseudopolis Yard?"

"No, captain. I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you."

"LeJean, you look well," Vimes remarked when they were shown into his office.

It was true too. Myria looked and felt better than she had in months. In fact, she felt she were walking on air. The thought made her check her feet several times, to ensure this was not in fact the case. "Thank you, commander, I feel most rejuvenated."

"Nearly getting yourself killed does wonders, apparently." He cleared his throat. "I didn't expect your fiancé and Hardlee to join you for this meeting. Do you know why I asked you here?"

This was, by her calculations, the fourth time Myria had found herself seated before Sir Samuel Vimes' desk. However this time she knew the reason, which helped allay much of the nervousness. And being flanked by Hardlee and Jonathon was also reassuring.

Myria looked to Hardlee, who nodded. We have decided to be cooperative with the commander, after all. Jonathon squeezed her hand, encouraging her to continue.

"I believe, commander, that you asked me here because you have become aware… of a very large quantity of gold that is no longer accounted for."

Vimes went very still. "Are you reading my mind, LeJean?" There was a slight accusation in his tone.

"No, commander. It was merely an educated guess."

Vimes relaxed slightly and gave a short laugh. "That's quite an education, then." He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. "What I received was a message from a terrified servant," he pointed with his chin at the papers to his left, "that Lord Rust had suffered some sort of fit and was under the care of his personal physician." Which is likely why I don't have him in my office right now, throwing furniture at me.

Vimes picked up the papers and began skimming over them. "It seems that Lord Rust had a bit of a beef with the Royal Bank.[3] So he decided to leave his share of the gold in the flagstones stored in his own vaults." He flipped to the next sheet. "Unfortunately yesterday his servants discovered that most of the stones didn't contain any gold," he set down the paper and, watching Myria carefully, continued, "They were hollow."

Myria returned his gaze calmly. "I fear that must have been a significant shock for Lord Rust, commander."

"Enough to require sedation, apparently. Rumor has it his scream broke several windows." Vimes face was very carefully blank. The kind of blank that comes from trying very very hard not to smile.

He coughed and flipped to a third page. "After some inquiries, I have also learned that Mister Slant's firm may be having some… financial concerns, though they have refused to discuss anything with my officers."

Hardlee felt a sudden elation. It was a feeling of pure, unmitigated, refined joy such as might be experienced upon the birth of one's child. That's right you bastards, can't have your reputation impacted by admitting you're temporarily insolvent. Eat hot wahoonie sauce, Slant. Feel the burn.[4]

Vimes fixed his gaze Hardlee. "You look like something went down the right way. Have you had any instances of disappearing gold, Hardlee?"

Hardlee smiled broadly. "I assure you, commander, that I intend to request an audit from the Bank of Ankh Morpork. But I expect, based on the evidence, that I have suffered a similar fate."

Vimes raised an eyebrow and turned back to Myria. "And your gold, I'm guessing, is safe and sound?"

"On the contrary, commander. I believe that I have suffered a similar fate. I am no longer, as my friend Jessica terms it, 'filthy stinking offensively rich'. I am merely well off."

Vimes seemed surprised by that, and leaned back in his chair. He pulled out a cigar and started fiddling with it. "I'm a suspicious bastard, LeJean."

"So you have communicated to me, commander. It has served you well, I believe."

"Did you do this?"

"I did." Vimes' eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline.

"Really."

"Yes, commander."

"I'm not going to ask how, because I know damn well how you did it. What did you do with the gold?"

"I corrected it. The bulk of the gold is now returned from whence it came."

Vimes thought for a moment. "Like… reversing what you did when I took you to the crime scene?"

"Exactly, commander."

Vimes grunted, grabbed a box of matches, and lit his cigar. He took a few puffs to bring it fully to life before continuing. "That's going a bit far to teach Rust a lesson, don't you think?"

"While I would hope he would learn somewhat of it, that was not the intent. Rather, I discovered, thanks to Mister Stibbons, a fundamental rule of the Disc. That is, nothing is free."

"Meaning?"

"There was a price that reality exacted for my tinkering. A limit to what it would… as you would say, put up with. And I learned, commander, that reality did no simply sit idly by after. It was, in fact, an ongoing strain which I did not realize was there, to continue to bend it to my desires."

"Ahhh… so you're not all-powerful after all?"

"Clearly not, commander. I discovered my limits this week."

"And the result?"

"With Mister Stibbons' assistance, we came to the realization that the process worked in reverse as well. That which can be done, can be undone. And so, in the interests of self-preservation, I was required to right the scales somewhat."

"So no more of your little tricks?"

"Not if I value my health, commander." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "Will you now arrest me?" She felt Jonathon's hand tense in hers.

Vimes shook his head. "For what? Trying to save your life? According to what you tell me, you didn't actually steal anything. Fraud?"

Hardlee cleared his throat, "I've already looked at case law, commander. It doesn't fall under fraud either. As far as I can tell, it's as if the gold never existed. Rust was not promised a fixed amount, he was promised a percentage." He felt a small bit of glee at realizing his careful wording was paying off, after all. "My retainer and that of Mister Slant were also, if the standard contract language was used, dependent on the amount of money in question. I'm sure the bank will adjust our accounts appropriately as well."

"All the bases covered, eh? Tell me, LeJean, why didn't you whisk away just Rust's gold?"

Myria was confused by the question. "It would not seem fair."

He laughed again, and blew a couple of smoke rings. "Not fair. LeJean, I wish more peers thought like that. This'd be a better city for it." He took a long puff on the cigar. "Do me a favor."

"What would you ask?"

"Get out of my office. Go see the sights, live your life." He smiled and took another puff. "I'll take care of Rust."

"Thank you, commander. I will do so."

And they did. It wasn't happily ever after, but it would most definitely do.[5]

[A/N: And thus ends my second, novel-length fanfiction. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. Please, pretty please, if you have come this far with me, please leave a review. I would love to hear your thoughts.

To my most loyal fans, helpers, and reviewers, thank you. Thank you so very much. Mikell, DarkPatu, Bookworm Gal, fledge, SSC, Barbara, MJ Mod, Volfric, Silver Moonrise, GeoffG, Suuki-Aldrea, mortis, Fire Tempest, Slantaholic, Erbanana, John d, tolraisgrey, Kristina Webb, mzdzuvz, Wandering Zephyr, Bastur2, Nimbus Llewelyn, and most of all, to my wife for putting up with the many hours spent on this. It's been quite a ride, and I'm glad we could do it together.

Myria, Jonathon, Jessica, Roustam, Hardlee and the others will probably have numerous small adventures here and there, but I plan to start an original science fiction novel now and can't promise any more multi-chapter stories. But fear not, I'm sure some one-shots will jump out of my fingertips from time to time. :-)

-OldStoneface]

[1] The number of times that Ponder Stibbons had been asked to participate in a magical experiment not of his own design could be counted on one hand. The number of times he'd been asked, politely, to explain his theories was an even smaller subset of that number. The number of times he'd attempted to explain them to a group of people who were actually trying to pay attention was somewhere in the realm of zero. We'll forgive him if he was a bit overexcited at the prospect.

[2] In point of fact, Hardlee had insisted on staying at the residence in one of the guest rooms, just for this eventuality.

[3] This was due, in part, to the fact that Lady Rust had, apparently, been spending an inordinate amount of time in the company of Mister Lavish. Lord Rust had first attempted to contract a member of the Assassins Guild to resolve the situation. Upon being informed by Lord Downy that assignations against the Chairman of the Royal Bank of Ankh Morpork were not, in fact, being entertained, he settled for removing any assets he had there back to his personal vaults, and banning his wife from setting foot on the premises.

[4] Slant required several visits to his family mortician to fix some of the damage he had done when he had realized the extent of the losses. The next day, Slant's firm raised their rates 10%. It was a short-lived victory for Hardlee, but a victory nonetheless.

[5] Don't ask about: Mrs. Cake, not feeling artistic, scumble, home décor, counting cobblestones, bodily functions, Mrs. Cake.