The Price of Flight – part two
Well, I never thought I'd be writing a second part to this story so soon or indeed at all… but a short I wrote for the Facebook site took on a life of its own and sort of grew, with input from others. This has to be written. Thanks to the Ankh-Morpork Times – News Of The Disc page. This is an expanded and rewritten intro to the story, previously published on another fic: stick with it, it gets new and original later on. As always, to be revisited and revied and tweaked as is necessary. This is V0.4
The group of Watchmen conferred together in the street outside the tenement building off Pewter Street. Mickle Well was a small urban square, or in this case a small urban pentagon, just off the main drag. The public well in the cleared space had been here for centuries, maybe even a millennium. The water source had gathered human habitation to it, first a hamlet, then maybe a village, and as the village became a town and then a city, the buildings around the well had grown and evolved. On all five sides around the public well and waterpumps, there were towering tenements in grey stone stained black from years of coal and wood smoke. These rose to five or six stories tall.
Sam Vimes restrained a shudder. While this was his Ankh-Morpork still, it was on the fringes of The Shades. All those windows felt like eyes, watching him. Stationary Watchmen at ground level under all those windows. Lots of places from which to deposit things, from a greater or lesser height, on Watchmen. Best not to linger.
He turned his mind to the job that was in front of him. From somewhere above came a booming, trumpeting, call. It echoed in the claustrophobic space. It was somehow wrong for Ankh-Morpork.
"Carrot? How the Hell do we sort THIS one out?" he demanded. His deputy paused before answering.
"This clearly contravenes the Domestic Pets Act of 1698, sir. I'll have a word with the Zoo, shall I? Ask if we can borrow a few keepers to assist?"
Vimes breathed a deep resigned sigh.
"Good idea, Carrot. ask if they can look after the impounded animal for us? And book the tenant for being bloody stupid, too?"
Vimes turned towards the circle of local residents who were gathered nearby. Several women, typical Ankh-Morpork housewives, had folded their arms and were glaring meaningfully.
"What are you going to do about this, Mr Vimes?"
"Yeah, health hazard! And the smell…"
The trumpeting noise boomed again.
Vimes was relieved when one of his Specials turned up. He'd asked for her. She'd expressed a willingness to come back to the Watch after temporarily handing in her badge, so as to focus on her family. Vimes has been certain she would return. Sybil had said she would. She didn't have the personality for being an everyday working mother. She would want more than that, Sybil had said. Just wait and see, Sam.
And this sort of thing was her speciality.
"Special Detective-Konstabel Smith-Rhodes reporting for duty, sir." she said, saluting him. Vimes let an appreciative smile cross his face. It was the first time he'd heard those words in a long time. He admitted he'd missed that.
"Glad to have you back, Johanna." he said, sincerely. They shook hands. Then he briefed her. She nodded.
"Excuse me, sir." she said. She looked round and assessed the five interconnected tenement blocks. Her eyes followed a visible trail on the flagstones and cobbles that seemed differently dirty.
"I believe I cen tell which building."
The trumpeting roar echoed again. Johanna raised an eyebrow.
"Jislaaik!" she said. "End on the third floor, you say?"
Vimes nodded, grimly.
"Beats me how the hells he got it up there." Vimes remarked. "And how you are going to get it down again."
Johanna considered this.
"This species hes knees, Mr Vimes." she said. "On all four legs. It is the only non-primate creature with knees. This is good for things like, for instance, climbing stairs."
She considered the tenement.
"Is there a bakers' shop nearby to here?" she asked.
He looked at Johanna Smith-Rhodes. Damn, the woman was from Howondaland. She'd been brought up on the felt, or veldt, or whatever they called it in their language, the one that sounded like somebody chewing bricks and spitting gravel. She knew her stuff concerning animals.
Vimes relayed her request to a Watchman, who saluted and went to fulfil her order.
"Get them to do me a BLT?" Vimes added. "Capital letter B, small "l" and a smaller "t". Thanks.
She nodded at Vimes.
"The first thing we need to do justnow is to retrieve this enimel from a third floor epertment. I have a plen for thet too."
A little later, she confidently set off up the stairs, the bag of buns slung nonchalantly over one shoulder, she looked back and grinned at Vimes. "Ag, it could be worse." she remarked. "It could be en Osibisi. I will tell you ebout thet sort of elefent later.. Eish. Never stend directly underneath an Osibisi.(1) "
Vimes and Carrot waited in the dingy entrance hall to the tenement as she ascended out of sight. They took the opportunity to eat their evening meal; Vimes' B(l.t.) and Carrot's RLT. Some time later there was thunderous crashing from above. The whole building shook.
"Tell me she's not letting any bloody bombs off up there, Carrot." Vimes said. His deputy shook his head.
"No, sir. She says it's cruel to use them on animals."
Vimes grunted.
"Okay. Did we send any trolls up to help?"
"No, sir. She claims she can do this alone."
There was a distant trumpeting noise. This was followed by the creaking of an abused staircase. This grew louder and louder. Heavy footfalls were heard. Then Johanna backed into view, laying the last of a trail of buns on the staircase. Vimes blinked as a rather large elephant came into view, following the food the thoughtful human was kindly providing. The stairs underneath and the wall to one side was visibly buckling under its weight. Vimes winced again, thinking of what Fred Colon and Wee Mad Arthur had once described to him, of a golem discovering stairs were its weak point. He braced for the crash. The stairs audibly creaked.
"How the Hell did she get it to turn round and come down the stairs front first?" Vimes demanded, of nobody in particular.
Johanna grinned.
" Knees. Remember? A donkey up a minaret hes no knees. Elefents are easier. Hermit elefent. Small third-floor flet." she said. "But still, not much room to turn. Once I get this fellow out, Mr Vimes, you might wish to evacuate the building? One of the walls thet collapsed was load-bearing."
Johanna was coaxing the elephant to the street door. It followed her trustingly. Vimes groaned.
"Get everybody out, Carrot. Have people knock on doors."
He paused. A shard of abused plaster fell from a wall. Stone creaked.
"And it might be a good idea to talk to a builder. One who does demolitions, if necessary."
Later, he took Johanna's report. Her first active Watch duty in years.
"How do you know, Commander," she said, looking seriously at him, "thet this is not en isolated case. Perheps somebody imported Hermit Elefant babies es pets, end when they got too big to be kept comfortably, they were turned loose, end heve edepted to Enkh-Morpork city life. Just es you heve urban foxes, you now, perheps, hev a viable colony of urban hermit elefents. In which case, we need to make a plen."
Vimes tried not to let his face show any sort of dismay.
"Johanna, Vetinari said he wanted to be kept informed. You don't mind attending the Palace with me?"
The Widdershins Ocean, travelling out towards Fourecks:-
Captain Olga Romanoff felt the usual shock of dislocation as her Pegasus popped out of Feegle Space into the intense blue of the tropical ocean. She felt the heat immediately along with the glare of the sun. This was doubly disconcerting as she had left Ankh-Morpork some minutes earlier in a cold and clammy pre-dawn morning.
She shrugged, fatalistically. This was normal for the Pegasus Service. She'd been doing this for the best part of eighteen years, after all. She should be used to this by now.
Olga put the prickly heat and sudden sweatiness of the transition to one side. Nothing to be done about that. She banked her Pegasus, searching the expanse of ocean ten thousand feet below her, seeking to get a fix as to direction. That there was nothing down there but ocean didn't worry her too much. Her navigator would have brought her to the right place. She just had to look. Besides, she'd done the Fourecks and Foggy Islands route before. Nothing to it, really. Fourecks should be over there, just the other side of the horizon.
"Steer ten points starboard, Mistress." her navigator said, from his perch in the mane.
Olga acknowledged and made the course correction. She wasn't going to Fourecks today. This was a special run, to a destination she'd never visited before. Wee Mad Arthur, her navigator, had taken pains to get the course absolutely correct. She appreciated this. There was a lot of water down there. Nowhere to land if you got lost.
"Straight ahead, Mistress."
Olga acknowledged. She noted what looked like a pinprick on the horizon, a discontinuity on the otherwise flat edge of the great sea. It got larger as the steady beat of the wings took them nearer. She turned over the briefing in her mind. Vetinari had been very specific. Professor Ponder Stibbons, who had been here before, had advised. She was glad of that. It wasn't every day you got to talk to a God. The idea didn't intimidate Olga. She was a Witch, for one thing. Being a Witch meant you made sure other people realised this early on in the conversation, and behaved accordingly. Even if they were Gods.
The discontinuity on the horizon began to resolve itself. It started to look like the sort of island that was about, at a conservative guess, 75% mountain, possibly a (she hoped) extinct volcano. What looked like tropical forest occupied most of the rest of the available space, and the bits left over seemed to be mainly beach. She began to circle, looking for a likely landing ground. What looked like rather large birds were circling the cone of the volcano, some beating their wings, others lazily riding on the thermals. But from this distance, they looked wrong, oddly proportioned.
"Aye, weel, Mistress. You dinnae see those taking flight very often." Wee Mad Arthur observed. He was watching with some absorbed interest.
"We had one in Ankh-Morpork not so long ago." Olga remarked. She soothed her mount, Радуга Дэш. Her Pegasus was expressing a little skittishness at the prospect of sharing the airspace with these other winged creatures. He needed calming. Olga regarded the other air-users with dispassionate calm, hoping they'd keep at a distance. They were big. By anyone's standards.
"This is Mono Island, Wee Mad Arthur. Strange things happen here and the rules are different. I believe I understand now why Vetinari was very emphatic that one of us should visit."
She steered Raduga Desh downwards, having spotted a promising-looking cave in one side of the volcano cone. It looked to regular an opening to be natural, and the trail to and from looked well-worn. As she descended, she had the feeling that the greenery down below was aware, and it was watching her. Reading her. Assessing the visitor. It was a feeling she'd last had when back in Lancre, visiting the herb-garden established by Granny Weatherwax, mayhersoulhavemercyontheGods. Only the feeling was ten times stronger here. Olga shrugged, and steered for a likely open space in front of the cave-mouth.
Spa Lane, Ankh-Morpork. Some weeks earlier.
Johanna Smith-Rhodes got the urgent message, shrugged, and reached for her Watch badge. Being a Special Constable again was good fun, good exercise, and a practical test of the soft skills the Guild of Assassins valued in her. It kept her fit, healthy and alert. She'd dropped out of a Watch involvement, part of a necessary period of semi-retirement from dangerous activity while she had three small daughters to bring up and to be there for. She'd taken hardly any Guild assignments, for one thing. There was still just enough of a conservative Boer woman in her that had nagged her with the old saying – Kerk, kombuis en kinders. The three assigned roles of a Vondalaander mevrou, despite the fact she only went to Church as often as was absolutely necessary and her kitchen was in the hands of her very capable cook Dorothea. The third part of the trinity was one she took very seriously indeed. She'd reluctantly accepted it would be bad for her daughters if their mother were to get killed anywhere. Hence – standing down from all but the most straightforward Guild contracts and no Watch work.
But, as she checked the set of her Watch helmet and made sure her badge was securely clipped on, you couldn't be inactive forever. Rebecka was nearly eighteen and living in Howondaland. Johanna knew her oldest daughter wrote home as often as she could and now had a privileged job with unparalleled opportunities to see the world, which brought her back to Ankh-Morpork when called for. Even so, she still had to fight down a feeling that Bekki could be writing home more often. She winced. It bothered her that as she got older, she was getting more like her own mother. Ag. I'll be dropping hints about marriage and grandchildren next.
Famke was thriving at the Guild School, in the Fourth Year now and preparing for the big transition, from the Lower School to Taking Black. Famke was growing up fast. She didn't need her mother so much. If she ever did.
Ruth, the youngest, was turning ten soon. Got the big decision to make soon with that one. Guild School? It's always the quiet ones… at least she has a big sister there.
Johanna kissed her husband goodbye and went off to an unexpected Watch duty. The Watchman sent to get her was waiting in the hallway. He'd been given a cup of tea.
"Enimel hendling case, you said?" she asked him.
"Yes, ma'am. Commander Vimes asked for you, special."
"Brief me." she invited him. He did. She whistled.
"Jislaaik. One of those." she remarked.
Olga dismounted from Raduga Desh, patted his muzzle fondly, then crossed her arms and impassively waited, aware her arrival had been noted. In deference to the Person she was visiting on Official Business, she was in full dress uniform, as befitted the commanding officer of the Pegasus Service. Olga had pulled rank on this one: the parade uniform for the Service was based heavily on Cossack formal dress. Irena Politek, her Lieutenant, had backed her up on this, as had several of the younger and lower-ranked Service pilots who were also Rus by ethnicity, and were delighted with the uniform choice. In the tropical heat, Olga was pleased the colour was predominantly white, with red trim. An impractical colour for everyday, she knew, but it was impressive on special occasions. She began to feel sweat puddling under her feet in the high riding boots, and yearned for a chance to strip them off and go barefoot in the inviting water, so near…
Bare everything. But the man – the entity – I am here to speak to is male…
"Я говорю! Какая великолепная лошадь!"
Olgas forced herself not to jump and took care to remain impassive. She noted the voice did not sound entirely human and had spoken the words
"I say! What a wonderfully impressive creature!"
in Rus. Or else, she was hearing it in Rus. Ponder Stibbons had said to her not to be surprised at things like this.
She turned slowly. The person, or Person, she was here to see had turned up. He looked like a scaled-down version of Leonard of Quirm and presented the same sort of air of perpetual intellectual inquiry to the world. He wore the approved God uniform of toga and sandals and was wreathed in a halo of golden light. And, she noted, he was only about four feet tall. In courtesy, and aware prudence was called for, she made the Witch bow.
The God of Evolution smiled benevolently at her.
"Captain… Olga Anastacia Ekatarinavichnya de Kokamaainje-Romanoff, I believe?" he said.
"Da. That is correct, sir." she replied.
The God smiled benevolently and resumed his study of her Pegasus.
"And this magnificent beast is called… Rainbow Dash?"
Olga winced. Her mount was one of the first two Pegasi, created purely by magic many years before, as the result of a concussed Gorgon being punched in the face by a troll, sustaining a broken nose and a major nosebleed.(2) A very much younger Olga Anastacia, remembering a charming fiction for children she'd loved at around the age of four, had conferred the name in a moment of pure whimsy. It had stuck.
"Never mind. Never mind. What brings you to this place? I'm sorry, I don't seem to get too many visitors here, always welcome…"
The God paused, as if trying to recall something unfamiliar from the depths of memory.
"I should offer you a cup of tea, I think…"
He waved absent-mindedly in the direction of a clump of undifferentiated looking shrubs. Olga went very impassive and inscrutable as the plant went into growth over- drive. A long stem shot up at dizzying speed and a flowering bud blossomed, did something dizzyingly fast involving a passing winged insect, and shed its petals. The bud swelled and bulged and Olga watched as an absurdly familiar shape swelled into being. A neighbouring plant was also putting out swellings. Olga watched them erupt into the shapes of cups and saucers…
"Oh, I'm sorry, madam. I should have asked what sort of tea you'd prefer?"
Olga smiled slightly. She was married to a man from Rimwards Howondaland. She'd developed a taste for the stuff, and it would do no harm to test her host…
"I think, rooibos." she said.
The God watched with approval as the samovar plant tipped and disgorged steaming amber-red coloured liquid into two cups on the next bush. He deftly detached cups and saucers and passed one to Olga.
It was, she conceded, a very good cup of redbush tea. Olga wondered if she could get hold of some seeds. Ponder had mentioned something about seeds…
"May I ask, out of curiosity, what brings you here?" the God of Evolution asked.
She smiled slightly and reached into her despatch-pouch with a free hand. She brought out a letter sealed with a single sans-serif V in black wax.
"Lord Vetinari." she said, simply, holding out the letter.
The God's face fell.
"Oh…" he said.
The Temple of Small Gods, Ankh-Morpork. Some weeks earlier.
Quite a large crowd had gathered outside Small Gods. With only a few exceptions, people were all looking up. Pausing only to speak briefly to one of the exceptions(3), Johanna and her Watch escort pushed their way through to the front. Sam Vimes was there. He did not look happy. Neither did High Priest Hughnon Ridcully.
Johanna looked up and assessed.
"That bloody thing is going to go straight through the dome! It wasn't built to support that sort of weight!" Ridcully fumed. "beats me as to how it got up there in the first place."
Johanna looked up.
"Fall through? I doubt thet, sir. It hes wings, for one thing."
Sam Vimes smiled sourly at her.
"It's Howondalandian. You're Howondalandian. Got any thoughts as to how you get it down, Officer Smith-Rhodes?"
Ridcully snorted.
"I'll get the bloody bugger down! I need me biggest huntin' crossbow…"
Johanna glared at him.
"Sir. Es I once said to your brother in similar circumstences. Not on my safari." (4)
Hughnon Ridcully calmed slightly and looked at her. He grinned, some of the anger dissipating.
"Ah. Yes. Mustrum did say. He was quite taken with yer forward manner."
"Besides, sir." Vimes said urgently. "Anything you shoot will fall off. And something that big is going to splat. Too many people down here."
He looked at Johanna again.
"Any Air Witches here, Mr Vimes?" she asked.
Vimes grinned. He gestured upwards. Johanna counted two Pegasi and three broomsticks. They were circling overhead, but as inobtrusively as they could manage, so as not to alarm the stranded animal, which was trumpeting in distress. Johanna noted the two Pegasi were keeping a very wide distance away.
"How many do you want?" he asked, reaching for a pocket omniscope. Vimes spoke into it.
"Calling all stations flying pig. Stoneface here. Flying pigs, please respond. Over."
The replies crackled a little, but were distinct.
"Syren responding. Over."
"Firebird responding. Over."
"Red Star responding. Over."
"Zemphis Al responding. Over."
"Lancre Punch responding. Over."
"Syren, leave one flyer up there to watch and get everyone else down here for a heads-together, would you? Thanks."
"You're meant to say "over", Mr Vimes. Over."
Vimes shook his head, then grinned at Johanna.
"New technomancy. I'll never get the hang of it. All these callsigns the Air Watch use. Hard to get your head around. All I know is, Olga is "Syren", and they insist I'm "Stoneface". I'd be annoyed about that, if it wasn't for the fact they call themselves the Flying Pigs…"
Broomsticks and Pegasi were landing now, scattering the crowd as they came in. Olga Romanoff vaulted easily from her mount and saluted him.
She turned to the other, far more junior, Pegasus pilot.
"Best we stay down here until we can transfer to brooms, devyushka." she said. "Those things spook our horses. I had a bloody awful time up there, and I'm betting so did you."
"Ja." Johanna said. "They do not mix with horses. Whether they hev wings or not."(5)
"So what are you proposin' to do about that bloody thing on top of me dome?" Hughnon Ridcully asked, impatiently. "Most pertinently, how are you goin' to get it down?"
"I'd also like to know how it got here." Johanna said. "Those creatures only exist in Howondaland."
"And one other place." the second Pegasus pilot said. "Dad was telling me about it. He must have mentioned it to you, mum?"
Hughnon Ridcully looked from one to the other. A benevolent smile crossed his face. Vimes grinned too.
"And they both work for you, Sam." Ridcully said. "The mother and the daughter." There was a hint of admiration.
"Only on rostered duty days." Rebecka Smith-Rhodes said. "Most of the time, I've got a Steading to run."
"End only when I'm in this uniform." Johanna Smith-Rhodes added. "Bekki. You end Olga cennot go near thet creature on horsebeck. But I require a lift up there to get me closer."
"Volunteers?" Sam Vimes asked.
"I need somebody who cen Borrow." Johanna said. "I heve a plen."
"There's me." Lieutenant Irena Politek said. "or Amelia."
"You might be best, I think." Johanna said. She noted Irena was currently broom-mounted. "I recall you trying to explain Borrowing to me. I believe I got the sense of it. End thet creature up there is en Osibisa. En elefent with wings. I wish for it to be somewhere else. I need a witch who cen get into its head end make suggestions. To calm its penic."
Irena nodded. She indicated the pillion of her broomstick.
"Hop on. And hold tight."
The broomstick took off. At ground level, three witches in City Watch uniform looked up. Rebecka Smith-Rhodes shook her head.
"There's an elephant a hundred and fifty feet up, sitting uncomfortably on the dome of Small Gods. Of course my mother gets involved and she wants to bring it down. That's Mum."
"Da." Olga Romanoff said. "Are you surprised, devyuschka? I should draw it to your attention, however, that this elephant has wings. In its panic, it has perhaps forgotten it can fly. Irena is there to remind it there is a way of safely getting down from a high uncomfortable place."
She pulled out her omniscope communicator.
"Syren to Krasnaya Zvezda. Krasnaya Zvezda, please respond. Over."
Irena's voice came back, somewhat tetchy.
"We're here, Syren. Johanna's stalking it right now. Says she's getting a feel for it. And I'd be obliged if we went into silent mode from now, as I've got to get into the right frame of mind for this. Over."
"Prizhnaniyay, Krasnaya Zvezda. Радио молчание, с этого момента. над." Olga replied. She snapped the omniscope closed and returned it to her top pocket.
"Acknowledged, Red Star. Going silent as from now. Over." Bekki translated, for the benefit of Vimes.
"Getting good at our language, Firebird." Olga said. She smiled. "Now, we wait."
Mono Island, the Widdershins Ocean.
The God of Evolution put down the letter from Vetinari.
"Please convey my regards to His Lordship, and advise him I did lose one some weeks ago." he said. "I'm so terribly sorry. For the inconvenience, and all that. But they do rather want to fly away, after a while. It was one of my Version Zero-point-Three elephants with wings, you see. Latest model."
Olga nodded, sympathetically. Ponder Stibbons had told her things wanted to leave Mono Island once they were created. They really didn't want to hang around. It was as if there was a biological imperative going on. Ponder thought they wanted to get to places that were normal, where they could settle down, and retain the same shape, with no risk of being recalled to the workshop for modifications or evolutionary acceleration.
"Usually, Captain Romanoff, I make the best of things by holding open a doorway to Howondaland, where there is already a thriving colony in the wild and the ecological balance is not adversely affected. But for some reason, well, I'd just visited the City Zoo, you see, fascinating place, Ankh-Morpork was on my mind, and, well…"
The God looked crestfallen and anxious. Olga reached out and patted the divine shoulder, reassuringly.
"No harm done, sir." she reassured him. "The Zoo couldn't accept the animal, so we hit on a way to move him to Howondaland."
The God looked interested.
"This craw-stepping thing I hear you use?"
"Aye, laird." Wee Mad Arthur said. He'd been watching with interest and was holding a small mug of something that looked like Bearhuggers. Olga shook her head. Ponder had said the plants here could sense the desires of people and were almost pathetically keen to help out. She suspected a Bearhugger's Old Macabre plant had been called into existence. She also kicked herself for not asking for a vodka and soda with ice. (6)
"'Twas easy-peasy. One minute in the elephant enclosure at the Zoo. Next minute, the Veldt. Nae bother!"
I just bet he has a pocketful of seeds, Olga thought.
The God brightened. "So you'll reassure Lord Vetinari there will be no recurrence?" he asked hopefully. Olga smiled.
"I shall be happy to, sir." she said.
The God relaxed.
"Captain Romanoff, may I prevail on you? Err.. Rainbow Dash. I really thought the Pegasus had died out of the world several thousand years ago. Recessive genes, and all that. Looking at him, I had this tremendously good idea for a Version nought-point-Four elephant-with-wings. Those bird wings must give your mount tremendous lift and flying power. A truly efficient design. May I take measurements, so I can scale them up for use on the next generation flying elephant?"
Assured her mount's wings were not going to be removed or harmed in any way, Olga graciously gave permission and helped while the God fussed around with tape measure and sketch-pad. She accepted an invitation to pop back in a week or two to look in on progress. The idea interested her. After surreptitiously collecting a pocketful of seeds from the Samovar Plant, she prised Wee Mad Arthur away from the Bearhugger's Bush, and they set off back for Ankh-Morpork, to report to Vetinari. And to have a cool shower, change her damn boots, and tip the tropical sweat out.
The Temple of Small Gods, Ankh-Morpork. Some weeks earlier.
After a while, the waiting crowd was thrilled to witness the majestic sight of a flying elephant spreading its huge leathery wings and launching itself into the air. After a moment or two of indecision, gravity conceded the fight and it gained altitude, setting off across the city in the direction of the Zoo. Rebecka Smith-Rhodes had a moment of face-palm when she saw the woman sitting on its back, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, was her mother. Her actual mother. But where was Irena?
Olga Romanoff frowned. She beckoned Air Policewoman Amelia Cronkart, a younger Witch from Lower Aceria, known to the Air Police by the callsign Zemphis Al.
"Fly up there and check on Irena, would you?" she asked. Amelia saluted.
"Sure thing, ma'am." she said.
Amelia found Irena sitting cross-legged and still on the parapet. She had taken the precaution of hanging a sign round her neck announcing, in two languages, Я не мертв. Я просто заимствую. I AM NOT DEAD. WORKING WITCH.
She grinned, and after ensuring Irena's broomstick was where she could reach it, she flew back down again.
"Reckon Red Star's safe, ma'am." she told Olga. "It ain't Doctor Smith-Rhodes flying that elephant. She's just a passenger. Irena's doin' the flying, remotely."
"Horoscho." Olga said, with satisfaction. She also wondered what quirks of essential elephant-hood Irena would bring back after Borrowing. The idea amused her.
Sam Vimes exhaled with relief. Good news to pass on to Vetinari.
Amelia turned to Hughnon Ridcully. "Sir, you better send some people up there with brushes and shovels to clear up. Hey, you can sell it to Harry King afterwards for a few dollars, as there's a hellova lot of it!"
Mono Island. A fortnight later.
Olga Romanoff had re-organised the operational diary so that she could fit in a repeat visit to the God of Evolution. To make it official, she had booked herself in on the Genua run, so that after concluding official business there, she could fly on out over the Widdershins Sea. She had even taken a wingmate with her, Sergeant Hanna von Strafenburg.
Ideas were bubbling under and simmering gently on the cooking range of her mind. She wanted to see if this was in any way, shape, or form, possible. And it was strictly unofficial. If it wasn't practical, no harm done; if it was practical, she could square it with Mr Vimes and lord Vetinari later. She hoped.
And now, the two Flight witches were being shown the Workroom. Hanna had also discovered a Schnapps Shrub and an Überwaldean Chocolate Bush. Olga reminded herself to ask about a vodka, later.
"As I was saying, ladies, the Version nought-point-One elephant-with-wings was equipped with scaled-up dragonfly wings. Not tremendously practical, I was forced to conclude, albeit with great reluctance. Moving on, the Version nought-point-Two elephant-with-wings – well, the Howondalandian Elephant has large ears, in a sturdy hide. I considered and thought – make them larger still."
He indicated a small, fat, elephantine creature with over-large ears. It was held in a sort of stasis, frozen in time, and for some reason its hide was pink.
"Alas, aerodynamically unstable, and in flight, the wings were in the wrong place and had the burden of supporting the entire body mass which dangled from the ear-roots. The centre of gravity is completely wrong. Unsupportable strain on the aeroframe."
"Why pink?" Hanna asked.
"It felt right…"
Hanna nodded, dimly understanding.
"So we move on to the Version Nought-point-Three elephant-with-wings. The wings are conventionally mounted and are made of the same tough hide as the ears. The design retains the compound eyes which I hold are essential for a flying creature, and the legs end in talons, all the better for grasping sturdy branches when nesting."
Hanna nodded, approving. "As in the one released over Ankh-Morpork. Those talons played Hell with the copper and the bronze on the dome of Small Gods, incidentally."
"Yes. Not an urban creature. And over here, ladies, the Version Nought-point-Four elephant-with-wings."
This was a flying elephant too. But with Pegasus wings. It also hung motionless, in potentio, waiting to be activated.
Olga grinned.
"Has it gone up for a test-flight yet?" she asked.
A short time later, two determined Witches were test-flying the new Osibisi, having talked the God into it. Their verdict was – do not stunt-fly them. But a remarkably stable and forgiving platform with great potential endurance. Ideal for a heavy squadron. Transport Command, perhaps. Or… just possibly Bomber Command, if we had to?
"Wee Mad Arthur?" Olga called. "I need to find out if we can craw-step them into Feegle Space."
"Aye, mistress!" the Feegle called.
Olga considered. I'll have to find out if the roof at the Air Station can take the weight. Stabling would be a problem. There's our forward air-station in Lancre. We need to segregate them from regular horses… but Hobley has some under-used land. We need to build a suitable stable. And i will need competent ground-crew. Johanna recruited Ghatian zookeepers for her elephant population...
"We'll take six." Olga said. She was, after all, the commanding officer of Ankh-Morpork's nearest thing to an Air Force. Her job description quite clearly covered things like Equipment Procurement, and Research And Development. She turned to her principal test pilot.
"You know, if we put one of those wooden tower things on the back, that the old armies used to fight from. Crossbow positions. Multiple repeating crossbows plus space for reserve ammunition. We then have Flying Fortresses." Hanna mused.
Olga smiled to herself. It felt right. She still had to sell the idea to Mr Vimes and Lord Vetinari. But provided they were stabled outside the City by responsible people...
(1) The Osibisa is the winged flying elephant of Howondaland, thought to be an escapee from Mono Island where the God of Evolution was working on a really efficient distribution system for dung, so as to nurture beetles. too good not to incorporate into my take on the Discworld. The Osibisa is now established in Howondaland and makes its nest in really tall strong trees. The mating flight of an Osibisa Queen surrounded by her retinue of drones is something to behold, but, as Howondalandian zoologists emphasise, do not try and observe this from directly underneath. As with so many other examples of local wildlife, this animal has a name in the Vondalaans language: the Niestaannieonderbeeste, or the Schiessvolelefante. You have been warned. As yet, the Ankh-Morpork City Zoo does not have any representative examples. The Zoo accepts there are management problems and it would need a pretty big aviary. Lord Vetinari has also remarked, mildly, that pigeons present a big enough ongoing problem. While he believes that the occasional little incident involving a Pegasus relieving its bowels from several hundred feet up is far outweighed by their benefit to the City, he is desirous that we do not import any larger flying creatures. Just yet.
(2) Go to my tale Bad Hair Day for the calling into being of the first two Pegasi. An Igor had restored Yuri's nose, remarking that damage to Immortals is always a tough gig.
(3) They couldn't book him for pickpocketing, as he was official Thieves' Guild and had the membership card to prove it.
(4) callback to my tale Nature Studies.
(5) This is universal: ancient military history enthusiasts are divided about the utility of elephants in battle. But one thing they agree on: horses will not go near them. One advantage of war elephants is their capacity to render enemy cavalry useless: horses will break and run in panic if elephants are nearby and even look like charging them. On the other hand – elephants are frightened, not of mice, but of camels. Camel mounted cavalry were capable of stopping an elephant charge dead. In a Discworld context, perhaps the camels are chanting war cries like "you people might have good memories, but can you do simple maths? Come on, Jumbo, give us a times table…"
(6) Olga was responsible; she only drank her vodka neat if she wasn't on duty.
Inspired by a historical document discovered by Edinburgh City Council, which reveals that in 1707, action needed to be taken against a performing artist with an animal act who insisted on keeping his animal companion in his lodgings in Edinburgh.
He worked with elephants.
The neighbours complained. The ones living in the flat downstairs most loudly of all. So I wrote a drabble. And it grew.