Nothing to it, really 19
Epilogues and Afterwords, part two. Very minor edit to address a few typos and inconsistencies.
In which the author finally gets to the natural end. For now. …
Vimes shook hands with the man he was starting to think of as a Howondalandian Willikins. Claude accepted the thanks modestly.
"In my country, the police would have arrested me for daring to shoot at white men." he said, with dry humour. "The fact the white men were attacking my employers' home with every intent to kill them may have been taken, later, as mitigating circumstances."
"Bugger that!" Vimes snorted. "All I know is, my man Willikins said you had hidden depths. I hear he put you on the informal syllabus for butlers whose employers lead more interesting lives?"
"And I thank him, sir." Claude said, smoothly. "He did discern, almost straight away, that I once had Sergeant's rank in the Army. Although only over black soldiers."
"Yes. Willikins would have seen that straight away. Don't worry about any comeback from your people. I'd imagine Mr van der Graaf has the clout to squash any charges. He should be thankful to you, in fact. I'll make sure he is, next time I see him!"
"Thank you, your grace." Claude said. "Now I must be ready to attend to the Old Madam. I understand she and her husband will be in residence for some time."
"The Old... oh. Mrs Smith-Rhodes?"
Claude nodded, resignedly.
"I won't get in your way, then."
Scene of Crime iconographs had been taken. The bodies, whole and partial, had been loaded into a mortuary wagon. Wounded prisoners trucked off under guard to be confined in makeshift hospital cells under Pseudopolis Yard. The others sent straight to regular cells under heavy guard. The process of getting statements and if possible full confessions out of them was just beginning. Watchmen with good night vision had been detailed to scour the garden for lumps of poisoned meat. Ruth N'Kweze had reported skidding on something unwholesome that had turned out to be a lump of two-day old steak. At first puzzled as to what it was and why it was there, she'd realised, when Matron Igorina had asked if any poisoned meat had been found in the garden, as she wanted to confirm her suspicion as to what had happened to the dogs.
Another Watch guard was to be set over the shattered front door.
With nothing else to do here, Vimes, Carrot and Angua were wrapping up their direct involvement here. They'd take over the business of trying to get statements out of the captured men. Some would break quickly, others would be more hardened cases.
"I understand The Old Madam has a lot to occupy herself with inside?" Vimes said, sympathetically. Claude nodded. His expression said that it was going to be a long night.
"The last time I saw her, she was supervising a bath and fresh clothing for the other young lady." He said. "To escape from an untenable upstairs room where the door was being bashed down, they came to the living room via the chimney flues. Both ladies, as you saw, became, inescapably, very grimy indeed."
Vimes nodded. Inwardly he appreciated the ingenuity involved, and wondered if the chimney flues at Ramkin Manor were Assassin-proof. Some clever bugger was bound to try, sooner or later. It was only a specialised form of indoor edificeering, after all. He'd raise it with Willikins.
"Miss bin-Divorah attempted to raise protest." Claude continued. "But the Old Madam said she was going to get a mother's care and attention, from somebody's mother, whether she liked it or not. I understand she conceded the point, and went meekly."
Vimes grinned, then looked up.
A determined dark shape was climbing down the outside of the building.
He sighed, and quietly moved to a point almost directly underneath.
As Rivka dropped to the ground, she saw Claude and three senior Watchmen.
"I recommend that the young lady should be in her bed at this hour." Claude said. "As the Old Madam no doubt instructed you."
Vimes shook his head. "I thought you people were getting the point about pure black." he said. "Starting to officially experiment with camouflage. But then, you're still only a student. You should know, miss, pure black stands out a mile at night. Because nothing in nature is ever that deep and that absolutely black."
Rivka considered these points.
"And I smelt soap, shampoo and bath salts." Angua added. "Strong smells carry."
"I know. I should be in bed. I was told to go to bed." Rivka said. "By Johanna's mother, who I know is acting as head of this household. So she has the right. But I was hoping to get to the Lady Sybil. To see my friend Mariella. To assure myself she is alright."
"And you'd have come straight back here again, hoping your absence had not been noted?" Vimes said. Rivka nodded.
"And you'd have walked across the city on your own? At this time of night?" Angua inquired.
Rivka nodded again.
Vimes sighed. He considered the likely misadventures of a thirteen-year-old girl crossing the city on her own by night. One who earlier in the evening had lopped a bad guy's arm off with a throwing axe. He decided to do the best thing possible, with an eye on public safety.
"I've got a coach waiting to take us back to the Yard. And I suspect if I make you go back to your room you'd only wait till we're gone, and then slip out again. We can always detour to the Lady Sybil. If that's alright, Claude?"
"I can so advise the Old Madam if it comes to that." Claude said. "To explain the young lady has been asked to assist the Watch with their enquiries, is safe in their keeping, and will be returned to us."
Vimes made a resigned sigh.
"Get in the coach, young lady. You can escort us."
Davinia Bellamy sighed and sought to call her own family to order. Martin and Tim had been out in the street with Peggy, watching the action from a distance. Simon, her oldest son, who was not an Assassin and who was working for Master Builder certification, complained that a man should be able to get his head down at night, ahead of his one day off out of eight and a chance to sleep in late. But the others were too excited to sleep.
Tim was full of the thrilling fight and the screams and the violence, and regretted the fact that their Assassin escort had politely but firmly kept the three students out of the fight.
"'Riella and that Scary Mary best friend of hers must have been right in the middle of it." he complained. "Some people get all the luck!"
Davinia noted the familiar diminutive and filed it away for possible reference later. She also reflected a Scary Mary was slang, among male pupils, for a female contemporary who was considered more temperamental, moody, arsy and badass than the usual run. A girl not to annoy and to be treated with respect.
"Yes, but that's typical of Darners, Scraggies and Crows, isn't it?" Martin remarked. Davinia knew her student slang. Scraggies and Crows were girls from Raven House. Darners were girls from Black Widow House. Apparently because they weren't old enough to be proper Seamstresses yet, but they tried hard. She winced slightly.
"Doctor Smith-Rhodes teaches them to be hard as nails. Beaks and talons. Crows. Always go for the eyeballs. And your other…"
"Martin!" she said, warningly.
Simon, an older brother excluded from the school in-talk of his two siblings, scowled slightly.
"I'm off to bed. Again. Nothing you need, mum?"
She smiled at him. Her own advanced pregnancy had brought out a better side in the boys. Simon kissed her on the cheek and patted her belly. She suffered this from her unborn child's siblings.
"Goodnight, mum. Goodnight, baby brother!"
"Or sister." his mother reminded him. Really. Just because the first three were all boys. They assume so.
Peter had rushed off to the hospital to "be supportive to Ponder". Davinia accepted this. She knew Johanna would have people around her, and the fact her parents had unexpectedly dropped in was a bonus. She had not seen the inside of Number Eighteen, and wondered if all the mess had been cleared up before they had gone in. All the bodies and things. Then she reflected that her neighbour's parents had probably seen much worse at home, up to and including invasions from the Zulu Empire next door. Johanna had talked about it sometimes. Ah well. It was best she had family with her. But she itched for Peter to come back with news.
In the background, Martin was discussing the wizard-fire that had probably scared the sh… wits… out of the Cordingly family at Number Sixteen. A family already uneasy about having an Assassin neighbour on each side, at Eighteen and Fourteen. Who had witnessed a gout of flames that had blasted down the dividing hedge, charred the side wall, and blown out all their windows. She sighed. She was sure there'd be a "For Sale" sign outside Number Sixteen soon. And the Cordinglys had been good, albeit nervous, neighbours. Maybe I should offer to replant the hedge, she thought. I heard they dropped plank bridges to trample down the guard plants. Good point. I think Hergenian Ironthorn, this time. Not even a troll can knock that down, and you need the best Dwarf technology to prune the blighter.
The Assassin Piers Verlinden and his team had returned, with the Comptesse de Lapoignard, to the Guild, to file their reports. Lord Downey expressed delight and satisfaction that the four criminals had all been brought in more-or-less alive. And in two of the four cases, clearly and unquestionably by fully licenced Assassins. A minor victory over Vimes, who had accepted custody of the prisoners following their initial detention.
He heard Emmanuelle's dry report of how she and Davinia had brought down Benckel. She promised that she would fill in the necessary Claims Form to receive payment for them both. Emmanuelle and Verlinden confirmed that Johanna, with some outside assistance, had brought down the ringleader.
"We can take the point of view that a public-spirited outsider assisted her in the detention." Downey said. "Who, alas, not being a Guild member himself, is ineligible to receive the bounty. As he was clearly operating under her instructions, however, we can take the view that Doctor Smith-Rhodes justly earned the fifteen thousand dollar bounty on the head of du Plessis."
Verlinden and Emmanuelle indicated their assent.
"In the circumstances, we can accept she has other things to occupy her mind at present than the completion of routine paperwork. Is there any news? Never mind, for the present."
Lady T'Malia, stately and dressing-gowned, had joined Downey, eager to be in at the end of a long tricky contract.
"You know, Donald." she said, thoughtfully. "Some months ago when all we had to worry about were three pregnant teachers, I expressed a suspicion that Doctor Smith-Rhodes would attempt a contract in a state of advanced pregnancy, purely to make some sort of stubborn bloody-minded point. Now we discover she has not only done so, she has succeeded. And she completed the contract whilst experiencing the onset of labour pains. This dedication to success must merit a plaque in the Dark Library. And may I say – given that Doctor Bellamy and the Comptesse de Lapoignard also succeeded in a joint contract completion, despite their both being over eight months pregnant – that I am not in the slightest little bit surprised?"
Downey smiled. It was a happy and a relieved smile. He went to the drinks cabinet, selected the bottle marked YRREHS, and counted five glasses.
"Let us celebrate our success." he said. "Then we can debate how to deal with the other two cases, which present a certain administrative problem."
Downey remembered to send Verlinden back to 18 Spa Lane with a courtesy coach and instructions to put it at the disposal of Johanna's parents, together with an invitation for them to visit him at the School, where he wished to make personal apology for the attack on Mariella.
Agnetha accepted with thanks, and requested to be with her daughters at the hospital, telling Claude she and her husband would return later.
"As you wish, Madam." he said, taking care to omit the "Old".
Julian Smith-Rhodes volunteered to look after the house in her absence. Aunt Agnetha fixed him with her steeliest eye.
"See you do, Julian." She said. "End whetever Johanna permits under this roof, end I shell speak to her ebout this, there is to be no scendel with thet Zulu girl, do you hear me? Take that somewhere else!"
"Yes, Aunt Agnetha." Julian said, meekly.
As the coach drew away, houseguests and servants alike shared a collective exhalation of relief.
"Any wine available, Claude?" Julian asked. "It's been a tough day."
And then it got tougher.
An attractive girl with red-blonde hair walked in toting an overnight bag.
"Hi, Julian." she said. "Has Aunt Agnetha gone? Good. Look, when Johanna wrote to me to say they'd bought this house, she said if I was ever in town, I could stay. And if I asked Mutti and Vatti for a bed at the Embassy, that sort of curtails my freedom of movement, you know? BOSS on site, is it still that awful little prick Verkramp? With a legal right to censor my copy. I don't want that. I'll see Mutti in the morning. Got to go, Sacharissa and William want to see me to discuss copy, cab waiting outside, I'll just drop my stuff in a spare bedroom. Hi Ruth, nice to see you again!"
"Suki." Julian said to her retreating back. "How very nice to see you again. I'm sure your parents will be delighted you're here."
"A family reunion is always very nice, isn't it, sir?" Claude said, offering a bottle for inspection.
Julian studied his face for signs of butlerian sarcasm. Nothing was apparent. He sighed. It wasn't only white Howandalandians who went native in this city.
Johanna and her newborn daughter were moved to a small private room. There were two beds in it and a cot. A mixed group of relatives and friends followed.
Doctor Mossy Lawn attended personally.
"In the circumstances, given the child is possibly three weeks premature, and given the incredible stress on the mother in her unique circumstances, I think it's prudent to keep you both here for perhaps a week." he said. "Nothing to worry about. I'm pleased to say mother and baby are in excellent health, and babies are routinely born at an estimated eight months who grow and thrive. Not thought of a name yet? I'm sure you'll get round to it."
He nodded at a nurse. She said "You may come in now."
Mariella limped in, supported by her friend Rivka bin-Divorah.
"Couldn't separate them." Mossy said, drily. "Thought it best to keep this one in for overnight observation. Concussion, and all that. Although her nurses report she should be fine by tomorrow and ready for discharge. Anyway, you two sisters share a room tonight. Good for both of you."
"I thought I hed told you to go to bed, child." Agnetha Smith-Rhodes said, irritated.
"Yes, you did." Rivka said, holding her head low in submission. "I disobeyed you."
Andreas Smith-Rhodes looked consternated for a moment, then threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. He opened his mouth, but his wife glared at him. He closed his mouth.
"Well, you're here. And a friend to my daughters. Welcome." Agnetha said. "Now this business of a name for my grand-daughter!"
She was holding the child and not Johanna, Mariella realised, as she swung her legs into the welcoming bed. As if, when she finally passed the baby back to her mother, she would do it in such a way as to imply the child was only on conditional loan. And Ponder just looked stunned and bemused.
"Got to go soon, old lad." Peter Bellamy said. "I've got most of the essentials. To tell Vinnie. Daughter, seven pounds two, in incredibly good health, looks like she'll have red hair like her mum, mother and child doing just fine, grandparents and sister in attendance."
"You will stay for the naming." Agnetha said, firmly. "I eppreciate your wife is a friend of Johanna's. She will wish to know the child's name."
The hardened prison officer meekly sat down again.
"I wish her to be a Monika." Johanna said.
"Hmm. Possible. As one of her names." her mother conceded.
"Anomia sounds appropriate." Mustrum Ridcully said, with a look of studied innocence. Johanna stifled a giggle. She knew it was Ephebian for "The Un-Named One".
Her mother considered this.
"Nie." She said. "Too much like "Emmonia"."
"End you hev to beware of giving a child a name other children will make mockery of." Andreas proclaimed. "She will not forgive you if you do."
Other names were tentatively suggested and ruled out. Ponder knew to keep quiet. He sensed mere male opinion would not carry weight here. And to be honest, I have no idea. Just having a daughter is big enough.
The conversation faltered as ideas, such as the names of the nurses and midwives in attendance, were considered and ruled out. The official midwife had been called Declensia, for instance.
"Irena, for the very capable pilot who brought her here." Andreas suggested. Irena Politek reddened slightly at the compliment.
"Monika Irena." Johanna said. "I like thet." She noticed her mother was considering this. It was a good sign that she wasn't ruling it out.
"Something still missing, I think." Agnetha said. Then she smiled in devotion to her new grandchild.
"Perheps Mariella end her young friend hev ideas?" Andreas suggested. "They've been quiet over there. End I em told Mariella is good with words."
Mariella considered. Then she said "Rivka? You were telling me about your names. Divorah comes into Morporkian es Deborah…"
"No." Johanna said firmly, thinking of a pupil called Deborah Rust. "Ebsolutely not." Then she added "Not because of you, Rivka. There wes enother pupil. One I would not admit into my home, nor invite to be on first-name terms with me."
Rivka looked shy and diffident for a moment.
"I believe Mariella was thinking of the name Rivka." she said. "It also changes on translation into Morporkian. It becomes Rebecca. After a woman honoured in the history of my people."
Johanna smiled.
"Rebecka." She said. "Bekki Monika Irena Smith-Rhodes."
"Nie." The child's grandmother said, firmly. "Rebecka Monica Irena Stibbons."
She passed baby Bekki back to her mother, the naming having been made. The choice of name was universally acclaimed.
In the next few days, a lot happened. Friejda van der Graaf descended on 18 Spa Lane, partly to berate her own eldest daughter on not having called in at the Embassy to say she was in town, partly to express shock at the mess and to be properly appalled, and partly to catch up with her husband's sister Agnetha. Agnetha Smith-Rhodes was settling into her new temporary role as head of her daughter's household, and had even mellowed in some small ways once the initial drama and worry for her daughters had faded.
The household servants were being worked hard, and were counting the days until the Old Madam must hand over the reins again to Madam, when she returned with her child. Cyprian and Simeon were kept active with sweeping up rubble and debris and trucking it to a skip in the driveway. Old Madam and Baas-Lady Friejda kept a dedicated eye out against their slacking. The noise of the house-goblins assembling a new clacks tower drifted down from above.
As Friejda and Agnetha took advantage of Johanna's absence to plan exactly how the house should be recarpeted and redecorated after necessary building work, Andreas had been put to work ripping up the old blood and battle-stained carpets from floors and stairs.
Dorothea the cook petitioned for a complete brand-new set of kitchen knives, pointing out it didn't seem right to be preparing food with knives the goblins had used for… well, you know, baas-lady. Agnetha accepted the point, and instructed her to get a brand-new set of everything.
Builders were making a start, at Ponder's insistence repainting the outside wall and rebuilding the windows at Number Sixteen, which had been ravaged by magical fire. Gloomily, he still noticed a "For Sale" sign had appeared outside their neighbours.
Julian Smith-Rhodes dropped by from time to time, when Embassy duties allowed, dealing with suppliers and tradesmen and, Ponder noticed, paying large amounts of ready cash for fast work well done.
"Family, Ponder." he said, reassuringly. "My father gave me full access to the bank account here. He won't complain about it being spent on the family and he won't miss a few thousand. We've been exchanging letters through the Pegasus link, and he wants to be kept informed. He's been told what happened here, and he agrees Johanna and Bekki should come home to a completely restored house. So while there's no way of stopping Lady Friejda and Aunt Agnetha making the decisions, at least I can see it's all paid for."
He smiled tolerantly at Ponder Stibbons.
"Look, you married into this Family." Julian said. "This is how this Family does things. It's not all bad news."
An upstairs room was being set up as a nursery. An adjoining bedroom was being made ready for a nanny. Ponder sighed, wondering what sort of a girl they'd get. The daughter of a Wizard and an Assassin could go a lot of interesting ways. It was the sort of nannying case that Susan Sto Helit might take an interest in, for instance. Or somebody like her. He knew Susan had been approached, to see if she knew of anyone she might consider suitable. Retaining Susan herself was probably too much to hope for. Ponder, who had met Susan Sto Helit, thought this was probably for the best.
Mariella and Rivka returned to the School. Still limping slightly on her Igor-healing leg, Mariella was surprised to be acclaimed as a heroine and felt warmed by the emotional response from people who'd genuinely believed her to be dead.
Being Sent Up to the master's office was a surprise. Even though Johanna had said, that night in the hospital after everyone else had gone and it was just the two… the three of them, that her sister should pretend to appreciate the taste of sherry. "Too damned sweet for me.", her sister had said, mysteriously.
Her parents had been there, as had a couple of obvious Circle Sea looking people who were introduced as Rivka's parents, in the City for her soon-to-happen rites of adulthood ceremony.
Lord Downey had offered fulsome handshakes and a small glass of a sharp sweet wine, which Rivka had formally likened to the yayin kasher consumed on the Sabbath. Both girls politely refused the almond slice.
"You know, it isn't exactly unknown for School students to succeed in a contract." Downey said. "I have been in discussion with members of the Dark Council, and they are in full agreement that the sole form of contract which is absolutely forbidden to a student involves inhumation. Without a Guild licence, that becomes, I am afraid, common murder, and presents legal implications."
He smiled, genially.
"But this is not an issue here. Even if you had killed the client named de Koenig, Miss Smith-Rhodes, a legitimate claim of self-defence against a man intent on murdering you would have applied. No reasonable court would have denied that. Happily, for this purpose, I can tell you that he survived and is out of danger from his injuries. He is in very secure Watch custody as we speak."
Mariella looked over at her parents. Her mother looked uncomfortable; her father was beaming with pride.
"A Guild contract existed on this man. It stated that were he to be captured alive, the Guild member responsible for his detention would receive an untaxed bounty of fifteen thousand dollars. In the unanimous opinion of the Dark Council, Miss Smith-Rhodes, your actions detained this man. You have just succeeded in your first Guild contract. Very well done to you!"
Mariella felt stunned. She really hadn't considered this. She was simply glad to be here and alive after two close brushes with death.
"And after consultation with your older sister, and today with your parents, the Guild accepts it was at fault for the attack on your person at the sports fields. We are therefore paying an additional three and a half thousand dollars in compensation for the injury to your leg and for the distress this caused. Please also accept my personal apologies."
He turned to Rivka.
"Miss bin-Divorah, initially we assumed Miss Ruth N'Kweze had succeeded in the contract to bring in, alive, the criminal called Ouistrehaam. But Miss N'Kweze made it absolutely clear in her report that she happened on the scene to discover the client was wounded and in no fit state to offer further resistance. You were standing over him with a throwing axe in your hand. Miss N'Kweze also testifies that you threw a second weapon, accurately, by night, and over some forty yards, with enough force to severely wound him and shock him into surrender. She witnessed this. Her part was limited to offering necessary field medicine to keep him alive. She firmly believes you won this contract and satisfied its requirements. The Dark Council agrees. You are now fifteen thousand dollars better off. Please accept my congratulations."
Downey's glance round the room took in both sets of parents.
"The School will be informed in the usual manner." he said. "But this begs the question of how and to whom we pay the money. Both of you are a long way away from graduating as Licenced Assassins. You are also quite a few years away from attaining the accepted age of majority of eighteen years. I have spoken to your parents, Miss Smith-Rhodes. Your father is firmly of the opinion that as your de facto next of kin in this city, your sister, Doctor Johanna Smith-Rhodes, should receive the sum of eighteen and a half thousand dollars, to be held in trust for you. It will become yours, no doubt with interest, when you turn eighteen or graduate as a Licenced Assassin, whichever is the sooner.
"Miss bin-Divorah, I understand you are soon to undertake a religious rite of passage accepting you as a full member of your religion? Forgive me if I oversimplify. I understand an accepted part of the informal celebration is that the guest of honour might receive gifts of cash, bonds, and so forth, to be held in trust for when it is needed in their future. In which case, your parents receive the sum of fifteen thousand dollars as part of that trust fund, with our blessing. And well done to you!"
"Gevalt!" Rivka exclaimed afterwards. "He tells us we're both thousands of dollars richer and then we don't see a penny of it, he gives it to my parents and to your sister to administer for us!"
Mariella shrugged.
"Whet can you do?" she asked. "Et least Johanna is good with money. When I finally get it, I'm sure there'll be thousands more."
"Not much use now." Rivka said. "And you know what the worst of it is? Our mothers have met each other. And they're on first-name terms!"
She did a theatrical impression of a Cenotine mother.
"Oi vay! I tell you, Agnetha, you raise daughters, you raise sorrows!"
Mariella considered. And answered
"Ag, so true, Divorah! So true! End she never writes beck! I hev to chase her for seven thousand miles ecross two continents, just to get her to ecknowledge I exist!"
They laughed together and walked on.
Three pilots from the Pegasus Service stood in front of the desk in the Oblong Office. Lord Vetinari steepled his fingers and regarded them, without speaking.
Irena and Olga stood to attention either side of Nottie, who was regarding Vetinari back with frank interest. She seemed unintimidated by her surroundings. Olga wondered if this was superb self-assurance or simple naivety. Then Vetinari spoke.
"We have to allow you a little latitude and local discretion in your decision-making." he said. "You are operating far from home and your situation calls for a degree of mature self-reliance. I applaud your strength of judgement on acceding to President van Baalsteuwel's request to be brought here with all due speed. This enabled us to facilitate some important high-level business, as well as cementing the regard we have for each other. I thank you."
He paused. Drumknott helpfully passed him the morning edition of the Times. All three could read the headline HOWONDALANDIAN TERROR GANG CAUGHT! And even the smaller type underneath proclaiming TERROR IN SUBURBAN SPA LANE! By Sacharissa Cripslock, and Our Special Correspondent From Rimwards Howondaland.
"One of those days when there are not enough pages in the newspaper, it seems." he remarked. "And I'm interested as to exactly how Our Special Correspondent From Rimwards Howondalandmanaged to find her way to Ankh-Morpork so quickly, and in such a timely manner."
"She, er, hitched a lift, sir." Olga offered.
"Indeed." Vetinari said. "Indeed. As did a mature farming couple from Piemburg in the Transvaal. Seven thousand miles away."
"Humanitarian gesture, sir?" Irena offered. "After all, their oldest daughter was just about to go into labour with her first child."
"Ah yes. Thank you for reminding me." Vetinari said, genially. "Drumknott, please prepare a suitable token of acknowledgment of the birth of…" he consulted a note, "Rebecka Monika Irena Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons, from me. "Nothing too grand, but something which serves to remind the proud mother that her daughter is by birth a full citizen of Ankh-Morpork. With all the rights and obligations that confers. Thank you."
He turned to the pilots again.
"Named, at least one-third in part, after the policewoman who got her to the hospital at full speed, with all sirens no doubt sounding, in the fastest conveyance the Watch has at its disposal." the Patrician said, genially. For some reason, this sounded completely appropriate and right.
"A policewoman who is also a Lancre-trained witch." he added.
"Sir." Irena said. It felt safest.
Vetinari invited clarification with his silence. Irena gave in.
"Johanna thought if there was a danger her daughter might have magic, and we can't rule that out, then the baby should be named for a witch she likes and gets on with." Irena added. "Luck of the draw, really. She might have been called Olga."
"Or perhaps Esmerelda Margaret Note Spelling." Vetinari remarked, taking in the third and youngest witch. He raised a clacks flimsy.
"I'm not going to ask if your parents know what you're getting up to." he said. "This is from your father, who's just read about the incident at Spa Lane. Not unreasonably, he is asking if yours was one of the Pegasii in attendance, and he is looking for confirmation that you are safe."
Vetinari looked dissaprovingly at the witches.
"Lancre is one of our closest allies." He said. "A friendly state which sells us a goodly deal of coal, pig-iron and other metal ores. Our Pegasii are bred there. Slowly and surely we are building an unparalleled flying force. I would appreciate it if King Verence remained a friend. Taking his oldest child, the heiress to the throne, on potentially hazardous missions, might be seen as foolhardy."
"She is an apprentice flyer, sir." Irena said.
"Work experience, sir?" Nottie asked, hopefully. "It's a lot more interesting than following in Father's footsteps. Or capers."
Vetinari made a sympathetic noise.
"I realise your father's time at a school in this City profoundly affected him and did much to shape the man he now is." he said. "I also note your mother's threats to send your younger brothers to the Fools' Guild School appear to be most efficacious in enforcing domestic discipline in your family. After all, Doctor Whiteface is eager for a son of Verence to be educated there. A place will always be held open."
Nottie smiled a contented smile.
"Nevertheless, I would prefer it if your missions for the Pegasus Service are, for the moment, small, short and routine ones." He said. "Preferably under tutelage, as any apprentice should be."
"Yes, sir." Nottie agreed, humbly.
"And I may give thought to granting licence for a Guild of Pegasus Pilots and Navigators. In due time."
He smiled, genially.
"Fortunately for you, bringing Andreas Smith-Rhodes to the city, at nil cost, where his expenses will be paid by his family, can be justified by his needing to present himself as a material witness at the trial of one Preet du Plessis." Vetinari said. "As Mr Smith-Rhodes will need to be here for at least two months, it is right that he should not be inconvenienced by enforced separation from his good lady wife. I understand she raised objections to the idea of Arch-Chancellor Ridcully taking him on a tour of some of this city's finest drinking establishments and hostelries."
Vetinari smiled gnomically.
"And Mrs Agnetha Smith-Rhodes, I understand, is occupying herself during her stay by assisting her daughter Johanna, now a new mother, with the demands of running a household and restoring the premises to pristine condition, after some unfortunate damage sustained during a criminal intrusion. I'm sure mother and daughter both appreciate a chance to catch up with each other after long separation. Capital!"
Vetinari smiled again.
"Officer Romanoff, I require you to deliver correspondence to Rimwards Howondaland. How soon can you leave? And please refrain from bringing passengers back, unless the situation clearly merits it. Thank you."
Olga acknowledged her new mission. The three were dismissed.
Vetinari added a postscript as they turned for the door.
"I might become officially unaware, however, if at any point a wizard called Edouard de Kockamaainje returns with you. I consider I do not need to be informed, should that happen."
Olga reddened slightly. She decided not to mention the request from Heidi van Kruger, to, er, bring Danie Smith-Rhodes over sometime. you know. Put him up at his sister's. Show him round. I could broaden his horizons, or something. She wondered about Johanna's reaction to that.
Well done, Havelock! Heartiest congratulations to your Watch. Please drop a hint to miss Suki van der Graaf that I'm reading everything she submits. What preparations are needed for the trial?
L vB.
Louis.
It is important the trial be seen to be fair and holds out at least a fleeting glimpse of mercy, or even a "not guilty" verdict. My chosen prosecution counsel will of course be Mr Slant, of Slant, Morecombe and Honeyplace. Each defendant will have his own defending attorney. Mr Slant has suggested these be recently graduated lawyers who require practical experience of defending hopelessly lost cases with style and flair, perhaps being seen to wring some small grudging mercy from the court on behalf of their client. If you could despatch capable lawyers from your nation to advise Mr Slant on the finer points of Rimwards Howondalandian law, this would be advantageous. Having Miss van der Graaf in residence as a court reporter, to cover the trial for the benefit of readers at home, also has clear advantages. Her latest copy is appended for your approval prior to local publication. I'm sure sub-editors from the Bureau of State Security will be kept gainfully busy.
Best regards
Havelock.
The mews garage at Eighteen Spa Lane was usually empty. It had stabling for two horses and ample space for a parked coach. Today it was being used as a handy depository for sheeted furniture temporarily removed from the damaged rooms, and for builders' supplies temporarily lodged in a safe dry place. Various hands had stacked furniture and sacks of plaster and cement to create a hidden guarded nook in one of the stables, where there were four or five chairs. And the beer crates Mustrum Ridcully had bribed a builder to smuggle in for them, under cover of a delivery.
"Hev you not considered buying a coach?" Barbarossa Smith-Rhodes asked Ponder. "Or et least good horses. Johanna loves to ride. Your daughter should learn. End learn young."
"She has full access to the Guild stables at Garstairs, sir." Ponder said. A short walk from here. She and Mariella often go there at the weekends. And I'm sure when Bekki's old enough, we can manage a pony."
"You do know Friejda and my sister are plenning to have an ennex flet built on top of this flet roof?" Pieter van der Graaf said. "They consider it a shocking waste of good space. Their grend plen is thet when you get a coach, there will be edditional room here for the ostler end the driver you will need to employ to maintain the bleddy thing."
Pieter had been discharged from hospital. He had left preparations for the Trial of the Century of the Anchovy to the embassy's Legal Attaché and his team, and had sloped off, with a light escort, for a covert and deniable drink at Ponder's. His light escort, Captain Julian Smith-Rhodes, opened a bottle of beer for himself. Julian's duties had diminished since Colonel Breytenbach had returned.
Ponder winced, calculating the additional costs of more staff. And a new coach. Pieter patted his arm consolingly.
"I find it is best to let the ladies get on with things." he said. "Diplomacy teaches thet when there are no other options, you selvege whet you cen, end you make the best of things."
"I'll drink to that!" Mustrum Ridcully said. "You know I never married, lad. But I saw me brother Hughnon. A wife is a great asset to yer working priest. But by the Gods, when he got his first Bishop's Palace, it took thirty seconds for her to start gettin' it redecorated to her taste. Women are buggers for that sort of thing!"
"Well, the family's paying." Julian said. "Father said he won't quibble too much. It's expected. One of the good things about being a Smith-Rhodes."
"Bloody good." Barbarossa said. "Cousin Charles being completely helpful, for once in his life." He took a deep appreciative draught. "Gods, Mustrum, this is good beer!"
"And Johanna's bringing Bekki here on…?" Julian prompted.
"Friday." Ponder said. "Three days. I've got to admit, the builders are really getting on with things!"
"Ag, Agnetha end Friejda are wetching them." Barbarossa said. "End when they're not being negged into working, the boy Julian's offering them good bonuses out of his father's ill-gotten essets. Their whips, end your cerrots. The Smith-Rhodes femily wey!"
"We do what works." Julian said. The others nodded assent. "And Father took full advantage of the Pegasus links and up-to-date information to make a killing on the stock market here. I'll say he can afford this."
"End crucially, gentlemen, they ere not wetching us." Pieter remarked. "I sometimes wonder thet BOSS does not recruit more men's wives. Then we really would be a police state!"
And in the garden, Davinia Bellamy was supervising a botany and horticulture class she'd brought over from the Guild School. They were replanting the border fences with new shrubbery, principally the Hergenian Ironthorn. Her pupils were getting a grounding in Defensive Gardening and learning what the rich bounty of Nature's flora could offer in the way of very safe protection from intruders. It was good training for young Assassins. After all, they might have to get into such a garden one day. Davinia welcomed their constructive criticism as to how such defences might be neutralised. It served to make things stronger and better.
They stopped as the bones of a human arm were discovered, picked clean of meat, Davinia supposed from the Astoria Trailing Creeper growing at ground level. She directed her students to bury it deep, as bonemeal added to healthy soil. Knowing what had happened here, and wholly unsurprised, the students did as directed.
"I don't want the dogs finding that and dragging it into the house." she explained.
Davinia felt her stomach. It's imminent. Could be any time now. Ah well. Got to keep going till the time arrives.
And in a cell at Pseudopolis Yard, the criminal called Ouistrehaam looked disbelievingly down at his new arm and screamed with shock and horror. He might have been consoled by the thought Davinia had seen his old arm interred with minimal ceremony underneath a Hergenian Ironwood. But while it worked, while it was well muscled, while it was a right arm on his right side, and it responded fully to his control, and it even had an interesting tattoo, he still looked with horror as the muscles rippled impressively underneath a dark brown-black skin.
Igors were scrupulous about their grafts and transplants. As the Watch Igor had said, dispassionately, we gave you a new arm. It works. We replaced like for like. I'm sorry you don't like the colour, but that's none of our concern. Our work here is done.
And de Koenig had not yet asked which race his new lung had formerly belonged to. He'd taken it as axiomatic that only parts from a white man should go into another white man. Igor smiled a happy smile. Igors did not discriminate. A patient required a left lung. He, Igor, had a lung on ice. he had brought the two together, as the Code of the Igors dictated. He felt that de Koenig should be made fully aware. You know. In the interests of full disclosure to his patient. This, he thought, was going to be an entertaining day.
And without any fuss, Emmanuelle, Comptesse de Lapoignard, knew her time had come. She took a cab to the Lady Sybil and made herself walk unsteadily to the reception desk.
"Fill in the forms, please." said the medical receptionist, Miss Bromine Maccalariat. She saw it as part of her job to deter malingerers, hypochondriacs and time-wasters from getting anywhere near a doctor.
Emmanuelle took the proferred pen and wrote, in big clear letters,
I AM NEARLY NINE MONTHS PREGNANT AND MY WATERS HAVE JUST BROKEN!
across the page.
Miss Maccalariat blinked down and did a double-take.
"Madam, this is unsatisfactory. We still require you to fill in your name, date of birth and other personal details." she said.
"Name of a name! Do you expect me to produce my child standing up at this desk, and for you to book me in for an ante-natal appointment three weeks hence?" Emmanuelle screamed. Two nurses and a junior doctor ran to the scream.
"Come this way, please." A nurse said. "We'll take it from here, Miss Maccalariat. We can fill in the forms later!"
Some time later, a son was born. A midwife and several nurses learnt a lot of demotic Quirmian during the process.
Emmanuelle looked down at the heir to the Lapoignard estates, feeling something not unlike to a maternal instinct. She made plans to hand him over to a nurse as soon as could be arranged.
But perhaps not yet, she thought, holding her son.
"Congratulations, Countess." said Mossy Lawn. "I'm moving you to a shared smaller room, by the way. One other new mother. Is there a name yet?"
Emmanuelle focused and remembered. Maurice could wait for a sibling. She recalled a time….
"Emmanuel-Martin." she said. It had been the name she'd used all those years ago when posing as a boy at the Guild school. (1) It felt fitting.
Mossy nodded and made a note on her clipboard. Then there was a long slow glide as her bed was pushed around endless wide corridors.
But she recognised her room-mate.
"You too!" Johanna said. "Emmie, it's driving me nuts in here. They still won't let me go!"
They discussed their respective children for a while. Johanna fretted about what she'd find when she returned home to a house taken over by her mother and her aunt. Emmanuelle said she hoped the decorators and interior designers would have completed Four Spa Lane by the time she was discharged. Johanna remarked that Number Sixteen was now, sadly, up for sale. Pity it hadn't been earlier, as they're dead set on moving out, apparently. They want a quick sale. Emmanuelle filed this for future reference. Then slept.
Ten days later, after Johanna and Emmanuelle had both been discharged from hospital and had returned home to Spa Lane, it happened to Davinia. She had noted the Cordinglys had sold quickly and had moved out, with every apparent haste, to a quieter street. She wondered who'd bought the house. She had also learnt that Five Shallow Valley was up for sale too; the Jennersons were also moving on.
She sighed at the thought of new neighbours on two sides, and went for a walk in her garden.
Twenty minutes later she was doubled up and screaming for help. Simon and Martin took charge and got her to hospital. Several hours later after a lot of blood-curdling screaming that left her sons wondering how long their father would be allowed to live for, there was a baby sister.
Davinia, after her mother. The boys accepted this philosophically.
Emmanuelle accepted the house-deeds for Sixteen Spa Lane with thanks and set about having the furniture moved from the briefly-inhabited Number Four. She justified this on the grounds that the previous owners had not been able to live with Assassin families on either side. So the new owner had, logically, only to be of one profession. It also put her in touch with good neighbours. An attack on any one would be an attack on all three. She wondered what to do about Number Four. She could sell it, or perhaps she could rent it. She wondered if any colleagues at the Guild School might take the house. After all, Spa Lane these days was becoming La Rue des Assassins.
And the future beckoned, for all three families.
(1) to my story The Graduation Class.
And that's pretty much it. Perhaps ONE last Afterword. Then this one's a wrap, with slight revision to an earlier chapter to meet a few points a reader noticed.