Strandpiel 2 45

V0.04 as usual. (Footnote numbering not carrying over on publication. Footnote in the wrong place. Expanding a bit. For some reason they always get sketchier towards the chapter end! Tidying clunky bits)

Returning to writing after three months out for health reasons. Starting with a few ideas about scenes from the Discworld's "Boer War".

A note adapted from conversations with readers via PM: lilian maya, and (if not thwarted by systems settings) with EventHorizon NZ.

Fuller answer: ideas are emerging for the next chapters of "Strandpiel2" and "The Price of Flight". I'm sketching out where I'd like them to go and I've begun continuations of both ongoing stories.
Also, another of those "side-quests" have emerged where yet another of the Air Witches has popped into my head with a fuller picture of who she is, where she came from, what her back-story is and what motivates her. Usually this can be dealt with in a few paragraphs, or perhaps a couple of pages, of the main story, just to establish who she is and where she came from. (Yulia Vizhinsky, for instance). When it came to Alexandra Mumorovka... well, it very quickly became clear that this would be a story in its own right. Six chapters' worth, to be precise.
The latest Air Witch has popped up as a cameo a few times and as a supporting character. But it dawned on me that she's known in the stories only by call-sign and her nickname. apart from the fact she's Agatean (in her case, I'd quantify this as "Japanese" - as Discworld's "Agatea" is a portmanteau of at least four different national ethnicities from our east Asia). it helped that I'd just been binge-reading a magnificent and long-lived webcomic about a little girl, the daughter of a North American father and a Japanese mother. Not feeling up to writing so much, just re-reading my older stuff to take stock and remind myself of continuity. and binge-reading other people's webcomics for pleasure and - in this case - a lightbulb of inspiration.
So Akuma-san, the Air Watch's one Agatean pilot, will have a story which has lots of meeting points with a webcomic about being not only Japanese, but one specific sort of Japanese, in a "European" setting. Not a crossover so much as an adaptation. And this is going to be another one that might end up "Lexi Mumorovka" length. (multiple chapters).

But this tale: we return to where we left off after the Air Watch delivered a lot of people from Ankh-Morpork to the Transvaal. An insight into the Smith-Rhodes family at home, and why not...


Onverwachtplaas, in the Piemburg Administrative District, the Transvaal, Rimwards Howondaland.

The building known simply as The Blockhouse stood on the edge of the Smith-Rhodes plaas, some way away from the rest of its buildings. It had been built in a strategic location that not only looked Widdershins towards the River and an obvious line of incursion from the Zulu Empire. It also covered the main road, or what passed for one, leading to the principal city of Piemburg, and looked out past the road to watch over distant undulating hills where in a past conflict, Boer irregulars had been a concealed menace to Ankh-Morporkian troops and supply lines.

It was a big, imposing, six-sided structure built on an artificially raised hill, with a deep ditch dug at its base. Three storeys rose above ground, with the inevitable slightly pitched roof in corrugated iron and flat concrete slabs. What had originally been casemated windows, narrow openings designed to give the best possible field of fire, had on two floors been widened and replaced with something more welcoming and domestic. However, large shutters had also been installed so that the building could revert to its former purpose, if needed, as Zulu incursions in the years since had demonstrated an ongoing need to retreat to defensible fortified locations.

The Morporkian Army, when it had built this place in the style of an old-fashioned motte and bailey castle, had planned for it to be garrisoned by up to two platoons with officers. Perhaps forty men would have been stationed here in normal circumstances. Storerooms, an armoury, and a mess kitchen therefore occupied the lower floors. The upper floors allowed for accomodation for those forty men, with a smaller privileged area set aside for officers.

After the Morporkians had been defeated, and the remnant of their beaten Army was allowed to march to the port cities of Turban and Caarp Town for repatriation Home, the Smith-Rhodes family took possession of their home plaas again, and decided to keep the Blockhouse as it was potentially useful, and it would take too much effort to knock it down. The Morporkians might have lost the War, but they built strong fortresses.

At various points, the Blockhouse was used as a storage barn, as a granary, and as part of an experiment in growing mushrooms. (1)

It had been allowed to gently moulder like this until a family member, Balthazar Smith-Rhodes, had returned from exile in the Central Continent.(2) His older brother Andreas had shaken his head in despair and some disdain, but had reluctantly accepted Balthazar back into the bosom of the Family. Balthazar had redeemed himself by expanding and marketing a relatively new venture for the family, safari tours out in the Bush, treks for city folk on holiday to go out and see the wildlife.

He had pointed out to Barbarossa that the old Blockhouse can sleep a lot of people, if we clean it up and put comfortable bunks in and get the kitchen working. It's what those barrack rooms on the upper floors were designed for, after all. Then we charge forty rand a night per person for bed and board.

Barbarossa had grunted at his brother, a grunt Balthazar had taken to be a "yes", and the old military outpost had been cleaned up and refurbished. Balthazar's safari holiday business was now a profitable money-spinner for the family, and Barbarossa had expressed pleased surprise that his brother had not become a liability and a parasite, as he had feared, and was actually earning his keep.

Agnetha Smith-Rhodes had smiled a serene and satisfied smile at her husband, and she had said "I told you your brother had good qualities and could be redeemed, but you were not listening to me, were you?"

The Blockhouse also provided accommodation for the overseas agricultural students from Cenotia who were learning the brass tacks of farming. This suited everyone. The Cenotians returned home with the knowledge to manage their kibbutzes better, and Barbarossa got willing labour at a low cost. (3)

Today, one full floor, divided by a modesty screen across the middle of the barracks room to rigorously segregate the boys from the girls, is being used to house students from the Guild of Assassins who are there on a Spring Expedition. To enforce this, the resident tutors who have accompanied the party will take it in turns to sleep in and supervise. They also have the option of sleeping in more comfortable beds at the huis, and for two nights in three, will take advantage of this.

One of those students, who has been here many times before and who knows the internal layout of the Blockhouse very well indeed, has taken advantage of her special knowledge to open up an access hatch in the internal wall. Behind which, there is a vertical ladder. She had generously shared this knowledge with the others, explaining that this allows you to get onto the roof, if you want to get away from it all and get some quiet space. The view's pretty good from up there, too!

Famke Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons had been absolutely incredulous that during the War of Independence, her family had actually surrendered this place, their home, to the Morporkians. It went against everything she thought she knew about being a Smith-Rhodes and everything she understood about being a Boer.

"Simple, meisie." her grandfather had said, with a shrug. "We couldn't hold onto it, we would have died trying to defend it, or been captured, and a battle here would have destroyed the plaas. Better to take everything we could carry and go into the hills and the bush, and fight the War from there. The Porkkies took this place, and they wasted a lot of resources building that fort. They put a garrison here and I will say this for them, by all accounts they were mannered and cleanly people who looked after the plaas and kept it clean and tidy for us. We Boers shot at them a couple of times to keep them worried, nuisance raids, you understand, to pin down a lot of their men here, who could have been better used somewhere else. But we did not try to recapture it. No point. When the time came for them to surrender and hand the place back to my groot-ouma Johanna van der Kaiboutje Smith-Rhodes, we got it back in one piece, and she said they'd looked after it well."

Famke had also been incredulous to hear that her eminent ancestor Johanna van der Kaiboutje Smith-Rhodes, and her daughter Johanna van der Merwe Smith-Rhodes, had not only been taken prisoner by the Morporkians, they'd actually surrendered and given themselves up without a fight.(4). Her grandparents, and her mother, had then sighed. Ouma Agnetha had said to her mother "Johanna, talk to the girl?" and Mum had said "Famke, it's not like you to be a dummkop." And had explained exactly why their ancestors had surrendered to the Morporkians. Famke grinned. It had a devious, beautiful, logic to it. She wondered why she hadn't seen it before.

"You're a quick learner." her mother had said. "Which is good. Just get out of the habit, will you, of thinking that charging in and donnering the living bliksem out of somebody is the only way of fighting? Sometimes it's more subtle than that."

Famke reflected on this as she moved silently through the musty twilight of the roofspace. Miss Glynnie, who could deplore her tendency to make noise for the sake of making noise, could also acknowledge that Famke was capable of pleasingly silent movement when she wanted. At this moment, Miss Glynnie would have awarded good but not perfect marks.(5) Famke heard the very slight stridulation in the air near to her face and registered the very slight brush of a spider-web on her skin. She turned and regarded, without fear or trepidation, the very large baboon spider whose domain this was. She inspected it critically from a distance of maybe eighteen inches away, and judged it might have been sixteen inches across from claw-tip to claw tip. She also recalled Mum saying these things weren't lethally venomous but could still deliver a painful bite.

"Jy." she said, in a low voice. " Spinnekop. Voetsek."

She glared at the spider and nodded meaningfully. Spiders don't blink. But she fancied this one came very close as it scuttled off.

She grinned. Mum had told her about an episode where Famke, just coming up to two years old, had actually tried to play with a baboon spider. Famke reflected she'd never really had a phobia about spiders or goggas in general. They just were. You acknowledged them and you got on with it. (6)

She followed a well-remembered trail across the roofspace, noting the six faceted sides of the roof, equal triangles rising from the tops of the hexagonal walls, allowing her more headroom as she passed into the centre of the attic floor. She also noted fresh scuffs and prints in the dust, indicating that others had passed this way recently, shrugged, and moved to where a long straight line of sunlight was causing the dustmotes to dance in the air. Somebody else had been here recently and maybe were still up there, she realised, and they hadn't quite replaced the access hatch properly. She smelt slip-all on the air. That didn't surprise her. Even if there was no operational need, it was engrained in Assassin students to apply penetrating oil to hinges and hatches, both to make them easier to open and to prevent any tell-tale creaking or squeaking when a hatch or door opened.

Saves me a job, she thought, and, out of habit, ran her fingers along the edges of the hatch just to be sure that whoever had passed this way hadn't left any little surprises. Assassin students, and especially Assassin teachers, were good at that sort of thing. Miss Glynnie, for instance, had expressed interest when she'd been told about the roof access and the ladders and crawl-spaces inside the walls. Mum would certainly have left a non-lethal Device or two behind her, just to get the point across. And it was part of School folklore that senior students periodically tried to get onto the School roof at night, hopefully unseen, to do the dirty. There was Miss Perry-Bowen, for instance, who now worked in Swords alongside Auntie Emmie, who'd become a School Legend for her own nocturnal exploits.(7) Night-time at the School had, according to folklore and legend, become a sort of continual war of wits between the student body and School Security.

Famke very carefully lifted and moved the hatch, taking infinite care, allowing her eyes to get accustomed to full daylight. She took time to listen to the world around her as her eyes ceased blinking in the full daylight glare. The noises of a working plaas filtering up from eighty feet below; the creaking of a windmill as it drew up water(8); the familiar distant clacking and shuttering of a clacks tower as it transmitted and received; cattle lowing in the distance; and human voices at various distances and levels of intelligibility. From somewhere in the distance, what sounded like a hyena calling. Famke frowned. That sounded like it came from over towards Kuiperskop. Worth mentioning to Oupa, if hyenas were foraging from out of the hill country and the high veldt? She listened again: not the characteristic sort of higher-pitched coughing noise people called "laughter". That usually only sounded when they were excited or they'd got a kill or the promise of one. This was more a scout, signalling its presence to the rest of the pack.

She shrugged, registering that two of the voices were pretty much nearby. One male, one female. She took stock: here she was just behind the point of the roof, where the six triangular facets met in a shallow point. She could see nobody on this side where her hatch was. Therefore, the people talking were invisible to her on the other side, just as she'd be invisible to them. Good enough: she slipped quietly over the edge of the hatchway, and very carefully and methodically eased the hatch back into place. She then laid full length on the roof, knowing this was the tallest structure for a long way around and she was likely to be invisible from the ground. The only other structure on the plaas that came anywhere near the height of the Blockhouse was the clacks tower, and that was some distance away. The duty Goblins would be more intent on clacksing, anyway. They were on the end of a spur line here, she remembered, that had line-of-sight to the main trunk route coming into Piemburg. Piemburg, or more specifically, Fort Rapier, tied into other communication lines that went to places like Pratoria and Bloemfontein. Clackses here, in this country, were a strategic thing that civilians could graciously use,(9) but in the main followed military lines of communication and were managed by the Bureau of Defence. Mum had made sure the family plaas got its own clacks; she had argued that a clacks positioned virtually on the border would be most strategic of all, especially if it spotted suspicious movement on the Zulu side. (10) Mum had got it. The old beacon tower had come down as obsolete, and a Clacks Tower had replaced it. not every plaas round here had its own Clacks, but Mum and Oupa had ensured there were a stock of signal rockets in there, to fire off and raise the alarm if the neighbours got restive. or so they said; Famke was not allowed anywhere near the Clacks tower.

Taking care to move only on the concrete and cement roof slabs, and not on the corrugated iron, Famke edged towards the source of the nearby conversation. She judged it was going on just on the other side of the roof-ridge and reminded herself she wasn't being nosy or eavesdropping. She'd get who it was, out of the other Guild students who'd come out here, and then introduce herself, taking pleasure in that she hadn't been detected. Especially if they were older students on the Black who'd just been outwitted by a second-year Lower School pupil.

She stopped dead, recognizing the voices, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. That was Kristina de Vos. Oh, she was okay, she could be pleasant, she'd never given Famke any reason to dislike her. And she'd been alright during Famke's recent confinement to the School for misbehaviour, when Mum had sent over a selection from the Braai every Sunday as a gift to the Two Raven pupils who were for various reasons stuck in the Guild on an interminable weekend afternoon. Kristina had volunteered to carry it over and had joined Famke and Miss Glynnie and others up on the rooftop, and she'd been okay to talk to. Even though Mum had said, in one of those conversations that almost explained everything, to be careful and to watch what you said around her.

Famke, a sense of affronted indignation rising inside her, recognised the other voice. He'd also helped bring the Sunday Braai to the school, and Kristina had always accompanied him... was it making sense now? Ampie duPris, her sister's drippy-but-decent BF.

If he's doing the dirty on Bekki just because he's in Ankh-Morpork and she's in Howondaland, and if it's a long thin blonde drip like Kristina de Vos...

Thoughts of vengeance, taken on behalf of her sister, rose in her mind. A general prejudice against attractive blondes, held in trust for freckled pale-skinned redheads everywhere, also surfaced.

Then a clear picture of Bekki rose in her mind. The inner Bekki lifted a cautionary hand.

Don't go charging in, her inner big sister said. Find out first. And is it remotely credible, anyway? Mum's using her contacts to organise him an easy posting during his National Service. If he messes me around, the inner Bekki said, then he's messing the whole family around. Nobody with a brain does that to the Smith-Rhodes family. So where do you think he could end up. Digging poefdoefs for two years as a private soldier in the Pioneer Corps? And somebody has to clean out and maintain the poefdoefs. To get in there with a spade. A word from Mum to the right people...

Famke took another deep breath. She forced herself to listen. You know, just to be sure. But her sister's BF up here with... let's face it. A blonde. That was suspicious, to her way of thinking.

"Dankie." Kristina said. "You know, I can really talk to you, Ampie. Rebecka's really lucky."

"It's a big worry." Ampie replied. "But you've had to live with it for nearly seven years. And Doctor Smith-Rhodes would have known right from the start. I'm not prying. I think the less I know, the better. But she's aware? And – still not wanting to know the details – I'm guessing you've had conversations with her."

Ampie sighed, audibly.

"I agree. You've got to come clean. Especially here. Barbarossa Smith-Rhodes does not look or sound like the sort of man who'd be happy with somebody like you on his land."

Ampie sighed again.

"Remembering what I heard about a fellow called Horst Lensen when he came out here. He was in the same situation as you, pretty much. I only got it second-hand, maybe even third-hand, but Barbarossa was prepared to rip him into tiny little bits. Doctor Smith-Rhodes intervened."(11)

"Is that the same Horst Lensen who married..."

"Same one." Ampie agreed. "Barbarossa, as I heard it, was not at all happy with that, either. And I don't need to imagine what he said to Horst Lensen over that one. I got the same from him over Rebecka."

There was a long pause.

"So I should go to Doctor Smith-Rhodes and talk to her about this." Kristina said.

"She's your best bet." Ampie agreed. "She can mediate with her father. And she's known you for over six years, and can talk to him about any discussions or conversations she's had with you over the years. And what can he do? If he doesn't want you on his land, Doctor Smith- Rhodes would get you back to Ankh-Morpork, I imagine. No blame. No fault. Oh, hi, Famke. Come and join us!"

Famke grudgingly conceded there was no surprise or alarm or sense of guilt, so they probably weren't up here to do the dirty. Besides, if they were, and Oupa found out... Ampie wasn't an idiot. And neither, she reluctantly conceded, was Kristina.

"How much of that did you hear?" Kristina asked.

Famke shrugged and decided to make light of it, although inside she was aching to ask things like "So what's the big secret, then? Why do you want to ask Mum if she'll help stop Oupa going completely baboon-kak with you?"

She decided, with reluctance, that was probably not the way forward.

"Oh, just the bits about my oupa giving my Uncle Horst a hard time when he turned up here courting my Auntie Mariella." she said, off-handedly. "That's a family story and it's good for a laugh. Now, anyway."

She grinned at Ampie.

"Oupa did ease off." she said, kindly. "Uncle Horst actually did get to marry her, in the end. I think it was the promise of all the free klipdrift that swung it."

"There you go, then." Kristina said, lightening the mood. "All you need is to own a distillery, Ampie."

"But he eased off." Ampie said. He sounded speculative and faraway. Famke grinned. Some things are perfectly obvious even to a girl a month or so away from her thirteenth birthday.

"Mum likes you. I think Ouma likes you. Maybe if you get Ouma on your side over Beccs, Oupa's going to realise he's outnumbered."

Kristina sighed, deeply.

"There were the other things about Horst Lensen..." she said, letting her voice trail off. She didn't elaborate. Famke had enough sensitivity to realise this was not something to probe more deeply, but recalled a few things Mum and Auntie Heidi had let slip in unguarded moments. She frowned, reasoning that there was a big thing about Kristina de Vos that she was almost getting. Mum had said to Famke, and to Ruth, that with two or three of the students who attended the weekend garden braai, you had to be careful what you said. They were still her students and still braai-guests, but, well, be cautious.

Famke had asked Bekki. Bekki had gone quiet for a few moments, and had asked "You haven't done the Civics course at the Embassy yet, have you? What it means to be a citizen of Rimwards Howondaland and how a good citizen should think and act?"

Famke had wondered why her sister had gone off on an odd tangent like that, and the moment had been lost. Mum had taken a deep breath and said Famke wasn't due for that for a couple of years yet, so plenty of time to prepare. Famke had shrugged, and had carried on as normal, just being the usual Famke Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons to everybody on a Braai-Sunday.

Ampie changed the conversation. She realised he was steering things away from the big worry that was on Kristina's mind. Famke shrugged. Another of those inconvenient thoughts was surfacing from the part of her mind that she was beginning to think of as the boring adult I do not want to grow up into. She sighed. But she also accepted that this is not my business and I should not be prying into it. If it's important and it gets to concern me, I'll find out. I will find out. For now, let it slip.

"Famke, you know this place and the landscape around here." Ampie said. "Neither of us is from around here. Where would you put observation posts and hides where we can watch what's happening?"

"I'd start right here." she replied, quickly. "This place was built by the Morporkian Army to guard and watch. See the line of the river over there? Up to the riverbank, my grandfather owns everything. This is Smith-Rhodes family land. The other side of the River is the Zulu Empire. That's what we're here to watch. And we can see a long way on their side of the river from here. So I'd have people on the top floor, with telescopes and binoculars and things, just observing."

"Nice easy post." Kristina observed. "Indoors, with no need to travel far for meals and a warm bed when you're off-watch."

"We'll have to rotate people." Ampie observed. "So everyone gets a share of the easy and the hard work."

"I'd also get people up close." Famke said. "See that long low ridge over there on the river, with all the trees and things? That's Kuiperskop. We'd need one, maybe two, hides there. Well concealed ones, so nobody on the other side gets an inkling."

From the distance, out in the hills to the Hubwards, there was a noise like a steamboat's whistle, starting low, and rising to a hooting noise and higher-pitched squeaks. It was the sort of noise that carried easily over several miles. Kristina frowned.

"What was that?" she asked.

Famke looked incredulous.

"You're Howondalandian and a Boer, and you don't know?" she asked. "You've never even heard it at the Zoo when Mum's had you there on working parties? That's a hyena. We get them here now and again, although they're usually warned off from going too near people. Baboons are the ones you have to watch for. Them, and honey-badgers."

"Famke, I'm from Stellenbosch." Kristina explained. "That's a small city not far from Caarp Town. We don't, as a general rule, get hyenas. We'd have noticed. It is perfectly possible to be from Rimwards Howondaland and never see or hear a hyena, or a lion, or a giraffe, even once."(12)

Famke grinned.

"Round here, you get loads of chances." she assured her. "Loads of wildlife. People from the cities come up here and pay to go on safari. Have you met my Uncle Baal yet? He's a really cool old guy, but never play cards with him." (13)

Ampie shrugged.

"Now and again, in my part of the Free State." he said. "We have an agreement. We don't bother the hippopotami in the Vaal, they don't overturn our boats and bite us in two. But I'm getting that things are different here?"

Famke frowned, and wondered about mentioning to Mum that some people would need a quick teach-in on local wildlife they never encountered in their home areas. Just in case of accidents. She sighed. That thought had felt horribly like maturity seeping in, despite the metaphorical sand-bags she was installing to hold it back.

They carried on discussing the practicalities of where to put observation positions. The real work, apparently, would begin in the later part of the afternoon, after everybody had properly settled in. Oupa had promised a getting-to-know-you-all braai.

She put aside all thoughts of what the big thing was with Kristina de Vos, and got on with describing the local landscape to Ampie and Kristina, and where it might be useful to establish watching posts.

Wes-Sandrift, in the Turnwise Caarp.

Two women stood in the field outside a house, dark-cloaked and inconspicuous in the night, watching the Turnwise sky over Howondaland. Mariella Smith-Rhodes reflected that while the night had its own attraction, and the night in her native country could sometimes have its own unique charm, she'd by far prefer to get all this dealt with and wrapped up quickly, so she could return to bed. But with new people expected imminently, she felt it was expected of her, as their hostess, to welcome them. And all this was right on the edges of legality, if not some way over on the illegal side; uniformed members of another country's armed forces arriving in the dead of night, without invitation, to do questionable things in her country. This was what Olga Romanoff had called "the Link". People arriving on Pegasi could be explained. There was a Protocol for that, an international agreement, an Understanding. But this involved uniformed witches in Ankh-Morporkian government service, arriving by broomstick, clandestinely, by night, without official approval.

She sighed resignedly, wondering how many laws she was breaking simultaneously. She also reflected this was necessary, to wrap up the problem conclusively.

One of the two women, holding something metallic and indistinct, raised her right hand to her face and listened. The voice sounded as if it was nearby, clear and fully audible.

~~ Vorona to Mother Hen. This is Vorona, calling Mother Hen. Reporting I am at angels four, and currently over the line of a river, approaching set navigation point. Requesting navigation guidance to landing ground. Over.

"Mother Hen to Vorona. Steer course on bearing ninety from your current position. I will activate landing lights briefly for three seconds only. Steer for the lights. Advise me when you see them. Over."

Mariella Smith-Rhodes frowned.

"The Orange River's the big waterway around here." she said, thoughtfully. "But it isn't the only one. How can you be sure Serafima isn't flying over one of the smaller rivers and going in the wrong direction?"

Nadezhda Popova smiled.

"We train in navigating by night." she replied. "Vorona is very experienced pilot. When she made landfall over coast, she was instructed to find big river where it meets sea, and follow it inland. From above, at night, river will show from four angels up, because of moonlight reflecting from it. She has seen map of course and shape of river. She will know from course map where to make turn on bearing ninety. Now I must do this. Small risk, if other magic user notices. So light will only be active for just long enough."

Nadezhda turned and made an arm gesture. A pillar of white light erupted into the sky, a standard Air Watch landing beacon spell. Mariella closed one eye against the sudden light, to preserve her night vision in one eye, and counted to three. The light abruptly winked out.

~~Vorona to Mother Hen. Confirming landing beacon seen. Over.

"Mother Hen to Vorona. I will activate light again in sixty seconds, Vorona. Stand by. Over."

Mariella frowned.

"You're both Rodinian, but you're using Morporkian for comms?" she asked.

Nadezhda shrugged.

"Is good practice." she said. "My Morporkian is not perfect. Needs improvement, constantly. Same for Serafima. Is also standing order. With so many people in Air Watch, from so many different places, we must have common language for Comms. Therefore, is Morporkian."

She counted down, and activated the beacon-magic again, alternating a white and a blue light. These too winked out after a handful of seconds.

"Just long enough." she said. "For pilot and navigator to fix position."

A little after that, Mariella became aware of movement in the air. At first a moving black blur against a slightly paler night sky, as it descended it took the form of a larger broomstick than usual, with possibly two black-cloaked people aboard. There was also a grating whisper, of the sort its owner optimistically hoped would not carry, of "Aye, weel, we're here! Yon's the Distillery!"

Other low voices expressed a happy anticipation concerning their posting.

"I need a word." Mariella said. She frowned.

"I will also have word." Nadezhda said. "That they are here to do job and perform duty for Air Watch. By your leave, there may be drink for them, when all this is over. A small drink. But only by your leave."

"We can manage that, I think." Mariella said. She watched the broom landing. The two people, the human people aboard, got off. Several smaller shapes hopped off and gathered on the ground. She heard Feegle-accented voices speculating that the Distillery wasnae far from here, it's over in yon direction, ye can tell from the smell on the air!

"Attention!" Nadezhda said, sharply. "You have job to do here. Task to complete. Until then, no drink."

Mariella noted that the Feegle went very silent and as far as she could tell, respectful. It makes sense, she thought. Nadezhda Popova isn't just a Witch. She's an Air Watch sergeant. No Feegle are going to pick an argument with her.

She recognised the long lean shape of Serafima Dospanova even in the dark and wrapped in a cloak. Some people are distinctive anywhere.

Serafima passed the broomstick over to the second Air Witch who had arrived with her, the smaller, slighter one, who Mariella did not recognize. The new girl put her in mind of a student Assassin; she had the same sort of look of intent alertness about her. Mariella reflected she didn't seem all that old, anyway. Something in her general physical shape said she was thirteen, maybe fourteen?

Serafima quickly reported to Nadezhda. Mariella frowned: the new girl was called Shparger?

"Khoroscho." Nadezhda said. She said something in Rodinian to the girl, who walked over, the broomstick – longer and taller than she was, by perhaps four feet – raised vertically in her right hand. Mariella reflected that it must be fairly light for her to carry it one-handed, or perhaps some sort of residual flight magic was compensating for its weight and mass.

"Mistress Mariella Lensen." Serafima said, greeting her.

"Hey, my vrou Stormkraai!" Mariella replied.

"Like that." Serafima said. "Storm-kray. Sounds good!"

They clasped hands.

Mariella turned to the new girl and recognised the look of confident ability and intelligence about her.

"Sorry, I do not know you yet?" she asked, keeping it in Morporkian.

"Air Cadet Alexandra Mumorovka... mey-frou." the girl said. Mariella forgave her the stumble over the word "mevrou", and awarded her marks for using it.

"Impressed. You're Rodinian, but you're picking up a few words of my language? Could make you useful here." she said.

"It is because of Firebird, mey-frou." Alexandra said. "She introduced me to her family in Ankh-Morpork. Explained polite word for her mother is mey-frou. And mey-frou Johanna was kind to me. Heard your language spoken. Some words remain. For pronunciation, ass-ye-bleef."

"Lots of words for Mevrou Johanna." Mariella said. "Some are even complimentary."

The girl Alexandra looked as if she was working this out. Then she smiled slightly.

"You are aunt to Firebird." she said. "Firebird's mother, mey-frou Johanna, is your sister?"

"She's quick." Mariella said. Nadezhda, even in the night gloom, looked proud.

"Is good Cadet." she replied. "Olga Anastacia believes she could be useful here. I agree."

Mariella nodded. "If you round up your Feegle before they give in to temptation?" she suggested.

Nadezhda looked down and counted heads.

"You will come to the house with us and stay here overnight." she said. "You all have travelled here by long way this first time. You now know the route here, so you can navigate others between here and the ships?"

"Aye, sergeant!" one of the Feegle said, confidently. "We could get here wi' only the nose, ye ken?"

"They all say that." Mariella remarked. "For some reason."

"Navigation with the nose." Serafima said, thoughtfully. "There must be something about this place."

"Beats me what it is." Mariella said, keeping a completely straight face.

Nadezhda relented.

"Have vodka in the house." she said. "I will allow one small glass per person. As night-cap. You will drink it quietly, as children are asleep. Then as it is past midnight here, we sleep. Tomorrow, are tasks to fulfil."

"Come over to breakfast at the huis tomorrow." Mariella said. "Around nine. All of you. Including Feegle. We can discuss what needs to be done then."

She yawned. Mariella reflected that four or five hours sleep would be better than none. Twenty minutes walk back to the main huis, then straight to bed. The next day, they could make a start on dealing with the problem. Get Bekki involved. She'd had a long tiring day and needed sleep. Nadezhda had briefed her as to what was happening, about what she called The Link, but had told her, emphatically, to get some sleep in. She could see everybody in the morning. As Nadezhda marshalled her party to go to the guest house, Mariella excused herself to return to her own bed. She reflected that if she'd counted correctly, there were now five Feegle plus a demon on the premises. Could be a problem. I might need to fit in a courtesy tour of the Distillery. To satisfy their curiosity and to emphasise there is not going to be any theft. She did a quick head-count. There are now a grand total of four Witches on the plaas. Five, when Olga flies in. Six, when we get Zola involved. Feegle will know her for what she is and she's bright enough to realise they will need watching around alcohol. That number of Witches should prevent any acts of grand larceny by Feegle.

She walked back to the main huis, appreciating the sounds and scents of the Howondalandian night.

Onverwachtplaas, in the Piemburg Administrative District, the Transvaal, Rimwards Howondaland.

Agnetha Smith-Rhodes, whose domain this was, had been leading and supervising the women of the plaas in preparing food for the evening braai. Johanna, her sister Agnetha, her sisters-in-law Cornelia and Heidi, and a couple of black maids, had been busy in the kitchen, preparing ample food for up to forty people. Johanna had offered to get some of the Assassin students over as additional hands; her mother had shaken her head and said "Appreciated, but tonight your young people are our guests. Your father wants a formal word with them and to do a couple of things, then after that we can eat and be informal. I know your father wants a couple of bright people to go out on an evening ride with him, just to survey the land, for this evening, then we can start work at first light tomorrow on what needs to be done."

"Is it a good idea to send the duPris boy out with Barbarossa?" Nelli Smith-Rhodes asked. "I know there's a little complication there."

"He's ideal for the task, otherwise." Johanna said. "An older student with training and a good brain. And I can't help thinking it might do both of them some good. Father tends to come round eventually. Besides, the little complication is on the other side of the country in Bitterfontein. If she were here, Father would be really growling at the young man for him to keep his distance."

"It's also good training." Heidi Smith-Rhodes observed. "Diplomacy in difficult conditions. Assassin skill. You can't easily teach it, but, you know, Mr Ampie duPris is going to have to learn it. Very quickly."

"Is there any danger Rebecka might turn up?" the younger Agnetha asked. "There's nothing to stop her and she could be here inside an hour. That Pegasus of hers."

Johanna shook her head.

"Doubt it." she said. "There's a situation over in the Turnwise Caarp that the Air Watch are monitoring. The last time I spoke to Olga Romanoff, she said she's getting people in place to deal with it. One of her most experienced officers is over there right now, under cover of a family holiday, to give Bekki some support and some serious firepower when she needs it. And I don't want you to get alarmed, Mother, but it's potentially dangerous, and one Witch on her own needs lots of back-up. Olga wants it all dealt with as soon as possible."

Agnetha Smith-Rhodes, the older Agnetha, suddenly straightened up from the kitchen table and paused in carving lamb cutlets from a rack. She gave her oldest daughter a long cool look.

"Johanna, you might want to actually tell me about this?" she said.

Johanna sighed, and explained about the Haartebeeste Problem, placing the emphasis on Old Jan van Jaasvelt and what was known or suspected about his past criminality.

Her mother took the first in a succession of deep breaths and motioned Johanna to silence. Then she sent the two black maids out of the kitchen to do other things, out of earshot. Johanna understood this. You didn't speak critically of other white people in front of the blacks. It was a social convention in Rimwards Howondaland.

"I see." she said. "The local police are useless. This... man... is suspected of having done some contemptible things."

"Not merely suspected, Mother." Johanna said. "According to the local newspaper editor, who is a woman who knows many more things than she can print in the paper, it is an open secret as to what he has done in the past. People know, but... well, a Boer is master in his own plaas. They choose not to be aware, and nobody speaks if it."

Her mother frowned and nodded. Johanna saw the sort of definite change in her mother's facial expression that clearly said "I am angry." Nelli and Young Agnetha also frowned. Heidi had a deliberately neutral look on her face.

"I understand that." the older Agnetha Smith-Rhodes eventually said. "There have been incidents like that here. Once, your father had to be persuaded not to directly deal with such a man."

Agnetha went silent for a moment.

"Let us say your father found a way." she said, with finality and an "I do not wish to discuss that further" edge to her voice. She changed tack.

"Rebecka, and Olga Romanoff, who supports her in this, want to safeguard this new young girl who is in danger from a violent and wicked man. While the Ankh-Morpork City Watch have no legal powers in this country, Olga, very properly, believes there is a moral obligation to intervene. I see that. Tell me about the girl? I might know of her family, if she is originally from Bronkhurstspruit."

"And you said there is also a magical dimension?" Nelli Smith-Rhodes asked, politely. Johanna sighed. This would be the tricky bit.

"Ja. A serious one. I'm no expert in magic, but it appears the negative and wrong atmosphere in Haartebeeste has drawn in... things... which are not nice to encounter. This situation requires Witches to untangle it. There is danger there too. Olga is putting her very best people on the case."

Johanna hoped she wouldn't need to go into detail, and very carefully stuck to generalities.

"We'll speak no more of this, for now." her mother decided. "When Olga next visits, I can ask her. But, the girl. Ellie Meyer. I believe I know of the family. I also know the situation in Bronkhurstspruit is currently very difficult. Ellie Meyer is not the only child to have been sent inland to a place of safety. Not by any means."

She nodded.

"If Olga can get me there, or Rebecka, if she visits, I can talk to the family directly. Find out more." she decided.

Johanna took a deep breath. Of course her mother could do it. She fancied a combination of the Smith-Rhodes family name, being the wife of Barbarossa, and having a generally commanding personality, would mean doors would open for her mother. It sounded like a good idea. And there was Mother's other family connection, too, that would definitely open doors and provide a well-placed listening ear.

Eventually, with food preparation completed and knowing they could do no more, as by iron convention, men ran the braai, (14) the womenfolk elected to go out onto the lawn and take their ease with cool drinks in the late afternoon.

"Who's in charge at the Blockhouse?" Nelli inquired, as they took their ease on garden chairs. One of the black maids brought drinks.

"Young Johanna, for the rest of today." Johanna said. "She's got a commanding disposition, and people respect her. So we gave her a purple sash, to see how she gets on. Make it official. She'll do well."

The younger Agnetha made a snorting noise.

"This is my oldest girl we're talking about here." she pointed out. "And she was a student at your School. If they have a midnight party or something of the kind, she'll be in among them passing out the klipdrift and the cigarettes. Depend on it."

"Ag, you're being cynical." Johanna said to her sister. "She's grown up, she's commanded some of the toughest soldiers in the army, she's passed through a few hard places, and she'll know when to allow a few freedoms and when to yank back hard on the leash. Besides, our experience is that old students who might have been a hard bargain when they were students, can come back a few years later on the teaching faculty and because they know all the dodges and the tricks, they make good teachers. There's a Morporkian phrase, poachers turned gamekeepers. We teach the poachers. We employ the gamekeepers. When the poachers grow up, some of them become gamekeepers. It works. Now let me tell you about Antoinette de Badin-Boucher? Or Catherine Perry-Bowen? "

"Or maybe me." Heidi offered. Johanna snorted.

"Ag. You weren't too bad." she said. "I remember you practically kicked me awake on a field expedition once, when there was an emergency. More than once, in fact. And I bet you enjoyed doing it, too." (15)

The former Miss Heidi van Kruger (Tump House) smiled a modest smile.

"This purple sash thing." Young Agnetha said, thoughtfully. "School staff, right? So my daughter gets paid for this?"

"For the week, certainly." Johanna confirmed. "But at Teaching Assistant rate, which is not extravagant."

"Good." Old Agnetha said. "Teaching the girl some responsibility. I approve of that."

Drinks were sipped. The five women continued stoep-sitting. It was a national pastime, when the work was done, for the moment.

"You never know." Old Agnetha said, reflectively. "Perhaps in twelve or fifteen years, the little poacher you brought with you might have grown up enough for a purple sash of her own."

Johanna tried not to wince at the thought of an older Famke who'd somehow managed to be employed by the School as a TA. The idea took some mental adjustment.

"Nobody's ever tried to get Mariella on the teaching staff?" Nelli asked, curiously.

"She's been on the Selection Board a couple of times, certainly." Johanna said, choosing her words with care. "Choosing the best scholarship applicants from this country. Technically, that's a purple sash job. She and Horst both. I believe the offer was made for her to take a teaching contract for a couple of years. She declined it, of course. Business to manage."

"Shame." their mother said. "If they'd asked her when she was single, it would have rounded her out. Teaching is a job for mature people. I can see her marriage, and her commitment in this country, rules her out for this."

Johanna smiled. "A couple of her choices for the Guild School are here today. Did I ever mention Ampie duPris was Mariella's selection? Funny how these things work out. And Kristina de Vos, the girl from Stellenbosch."

Johanna watched her mother's reaction to the name Ampie duPris. It got an appreciative nod. She saw her sister and sisters-in-law try to hide grins. They knew about Ampie too.

Then she sighed, remembering the other thing.

"Mother, I need to talk to you about Kristina de Vos. I asked her here as she's genuinely good. Pretty much an outstanding pupil. But there are things about her that you and Father need to know about. And I'd prefer to talk to you first, and to Father later. We need to make a plan."

"Go on." her mother said.

Johanna took a deep breath, and broached the subject of Kristina de Vos. Her mother listened, intently. Heidi added her own considered thoughts on the subject.

"Well, at least we know." Agnetha remarked, looking thoughtful. "And by the way, this is the first I've heard about Mariella dumping the older sister head-first into a poefdoef."(16)

She looked disapproving for a moment. Then smiled slightly.

"I can see why she did it, however."

"It was something Mariella knew right from the start concerning Kristina." Johanna said. "She did advise me, and we knew right from the beginning. So we could work on her."

"We've been working on her for six years." Heidi said.

"I'll talk to your father." Old Agnetha said, decisively. "But it might be best if I got to talk to this girl, quietly and privately, myself. Find out what she's made of."

"Mevrou Agnetha." Heidi said, with quiet urgency. "To cover everybody, we had to get paperwork from the Embassy in Ankh-Morpork. Ambassador Vinhuis could not have been more helpful with entry visas, just so the State knows that what they call "citizens domiciled abroad" were returning home for a week. But to do that we had to give names, and the Ambassador warned us that he is obliged to send that list back to this country. Mr van der Graaf at the Bureau of Foreign Affairs might delay passing it on. But your brother is also obliged to pass copies of such a list to other Bureaux with an interest. The Interior Ministry, for one."

Heidi took a long sip of her drink. She took her time before continuing.

"And also, to the Bureau of State Security. Even Pieter van der Graaf can't duck out of that one."

Agnetha Smith-Rhodes sighed, and then grinned slightly.

"So when the policemen come calling, both the regular police force and the secret policemen, we will show them every hospitality." she decided. "After all, it's a long dusty road from Piemburg. And we observe which of your students the gentlemen from BOSS choose to introduce themselves to."

"Kristina de Vos, by the sound of it." Nelli observed.

"Reckon Famke could push her head-first down a poefdoef?" Young Agnetha said, thoughtfully. "It sounds like a family tradition worth having."

"I'll speak to Andreas." Agnetha decided. "We'll give this girl the benefit of the doubt for justnow." She looked at Johanna.

"We'll speak to your father together. When he gets back from his ride out."


Out on the bank of the River Ulunghi, a party of riders were taking what observers might dismiss as a late-afternoon canter, possibly exercising their horses. Ponder Stibbons was not a natural horseman; he had arrived late to the idea of equestrian skills, but over twenty years of knowing Johanna, combined with her patient tuition, meant he could stay in the saddle and handle a placid understanding horse without disgracing himself.

His daughter Ruth, on a young yearling colt not quite grown to maturity, was handling her horse as if she'd been born to it, Ponder observed. Which, he thought, she had. She was Johanna's daughter, and therefore half-Boer. And she'd had the same sort of riding lessons from her mother that had been given to Rebecka and Famke as soon as they could mount their first ponies.

Ruth's grandfather, in between explaining to Ethylene Glynnie what she was looking at and how it all fitted together, periodically took a few moments out to boom his pride and pleasure in Ruth's horseriding skills. Ethylene Glynnie, Ponder reflected, would have been taught to ride by the Guild, maybe beginning earlier. She certainly sat her horse with ease and quiet competence.

He sighed the resigned sigh of one who is not born to horses but, by force of circumstance, is obliged to mount up and make the best of it. He considered his role here. Johanna had not been specific, but she had mysteriously said there was a place or two nearby he might want to visit while he was here. He wondered what, exactly, she had in mind.

He also contemplated the Other Things. On Wednesday morning, a Pegasus Service pilot and a towed magic carpet would arrive to take his family, plus Ethylene and Ampie duPris, back to Ankh-Morpork for an overnight stay. This would take in the Guild School Orchestra and Choir's Spring Recital at the Opera House, the necessary after-show party, then back home and sleep over, and then another Pegasus Service pilot would bring them back here again on the Thursday morning with the necessary interlude completed. Heidi would manage things here in the absence of the others.

Ponder had also been privately instructed by Olga Romanoff to stand by, as he'd be needed for a visit to Bitterfontein. Apparently, he was to accompany a party of Wizards from Witwatersrand, who were to do a specific and necessary job at a place called Haartebeeste. She, Olga Romanoff, needed to co-ordinate all the details first and use something she mysteriously called The Link to ensure sufficient Witches could be discreetly inserted as back-up. The Air Witches, Olga had emphasised, would carry out the more dangerous parts of the mission independently, but one aspect of it required Wizards. "There's no getting around that." she had sighed, in the tones of a Witch who, like it or not, had to liaise with Wizards.

Apparently, Eddie would be there with the Witwatersrand delegation. Ponder somehow felt happier for that.

It also meant he'd get to see Rebecka and see for himself the sort of life she led out here. That aspect of it all made him feel really happy.

Periodically, Barbarossa would stop and confer with Ethylene Glynnie concerning good places to put observation hides. She would take his advice, listen intently, and make suggestions of her own. It all seemed to be working out.

"Putonderswater." Barbarossa said, indicating a shabby and dusty looking settlement a few miles away. "Got some good men there in the Volkskommando."

Ponder refelcted that if this were the Shires, Barbarossa Smith-Rhodes would be the undisputed Lord of the Manor, the local squire, who effectively owned everything for quite a lot of miles in every direction.

He looked to his right, to where a lazy river flowed. He was no expert, but the look of the riverbanks suggested that at certain times in the year, this river flowed deeper and wider with a lot more water in it. He also reflected that the other side of the river was not Barbarossa's. And that there had never been a formal peace treaty of any sort with the Zulu Empire. The two nations, White and Black Howondaland, were still technically at war and had been for as long as they'd been in contact with each other. It was not a comforting thought. Barbarossa had said "Do not make a big thing of it, but we go armed."

A crossbow hung in its case at his saddle, and he wore a big panga machete on one hip, with bandoliers of quarrels slung crosswise over his chest. Looking at his father-in-law, Ponder could get why Ankh-Morpork had seen an army broken in this country. Easily.

Miss Ethylene Glynnie's visible weaponry consisted of a sword slung at her left hip, and pistol crossbows in their holsters. She also had a larger horsebow slung to the forward-right of her saddle. Ponder knew that this would only be her visible weaponry.

Ruth, who had been taught weapon-use, in her case only as a theoretical skill,(17) was unarmed, like her father. Barbarossa had benevolently said "You're a Wizard, my boy. You have other weapons when you need them? Good, good. Stick to the weaponry you know best. And keep our little girl safe."

It felt tranquil out here on the kaplyn, the Border. Peaceful, for now. But Ponder Stibbons could focus his Wizard-senses. Long years of working with the Faculty had left him with an instinct for danger that was like a finely-strung tripwire. And just now, at this moment, he was sensing something distant, a long way away from here, thankfully, which had something in common with a gathering thunderstorm. There was going to be trouble and it would begin over there in the widdershins, in the heart of the Zulu Empire, and the prevailing winds would carry it here. But maybe not for some time yet. What Ponder couldn't get was whether it would be here in weeks, or months. Then he sighed. The part of his mind that was sensing a timescale had not mentioned years at all.

"Months, then." he said, out loud.

"Months to what, exactly?" Ethylene Glynnie asked him. Ponder blinked. It was disconcerting. A totally deaf woman, in the conventional sense, had picked up what he had half-whispered to himself. It took some getting used to.

He explained what he was picking up. Barbarossa nodded, soberly.

"Glad I took you out with me." he remarked. "That's another bit of confirmation. Give it two or three months, there will be trouble. I can feel it. Everyone I talk to or get information from feels it."

He shook his head and looked round. No, Ruth hadn't overheard; she seemed fascinated with the interesting landscape and had found a pencil and paper from somewhere, glad of the chance to attempt a sketch while the party had stopped.

Then they saw the dustcloud in the distance, on the opposite bank. After a while they could hear hoofbeats and a snatch of song.

"Stay close." Barbarossa said. "If my information is right, they'll pass us by on their side."

He paused, listened and added

"At least, I bloody hope my information's right. Staan vas! Stand fast, for now."

There were riders, perhaps fifteen of them. They were accompanied by a detail of perhaps twenty Zulu soldiers, in green and gold head-dresses and unit distinctions, and all were singing, even the Zulu warriors. But the riders...

"Zulus singing in Rodinian." Ethylene observed. "They say they pick up chants and songs quickly. Even so, this is impressive."

Ponder was reminded she was a Music teacher.

"Wish I knew what the words mean." he said.

Ruth had switched her focus and was rapidly sketching the interesting scene on the riverbank.

"I know, Oupa." she said, her pencil moving quickly. "My friend Yulia told me, and Sergeant Nadezhda, she's really nice, like an auntie, she sang a couple of verses when we were doing music together. Sergeant Nadezhda said it's the Cossack song, the one about raising an army and fighting for Mother Rodinia, that's their name for their country, and serving the lawful Tsar, who's sort of the King, and something something about bring me a sharp sword and a fast horse. Errr."(18)

Ой, да не уж-то Русская рать

Не постоит за Родину-мать,

Били-рубили, ворога добили

И победили чёрную тать.

"Jislaik." Barbarossa said, in a low voice. He took in what to him were outlandishly dressed riders, noting that despite the strange foreign clothing and the impractical-looking fur caps, they were well-armed to a man – and to a woman – and appeared to know their stuff concerning horseriding. He also took in how integrated they seemed to be with their infantry escort, who were effortlessly keeping up with trotting hoses, and singing the strange new battle-chant as if they were born to the language. Still, they're the local boys on the other side of the River, in their green and orange, and I have an arrangement with their indula and the Prince. That reminds me. I need to set up an indaba, find out what the bleddy Hells is going on over there... Barbarossa saw no swords had been drawn, and the ones with lances were keeping them in the upright carry position with the butt resting in the lance-cup attached to the forward traces, like a third stirrup. The accompanying Zulus were also making no move to go into a fighting stance. He felt oddly relieved about that.

The man who appeared to be in charge of the Cossacks had registered the party on the opposite bank. He raised an empty right hand in salute and grinned.

Barbarossa found himself warming to the fellow, for some reason, and saluted him back. The Rodinian shouted something in his own language. It sounded like a friendly salutation.

Ethylene Glynnie said, in a low voice,

He said "zdravstvuy, Boer! Rad vstreche se vami! vy ne vrag!" And no, I don't know what it means, but I can find somebody who does."(19)

She smiled.

"I have good powers of recall, even when I do not speak the language." she said.

Barbarossa made an intuitive guess. It had sounded friendly. He called back "Ek hoor jou. Julle mense bly aan julle kant, en daar sal nie 'n probleem wees nie!"

They exchanged salutes and grins, and the mixed party of Cossacks and Zulus faded into the distance, kicking up more trail-dust.

Barbarossa breathed out. He recalled his grandson Mattewis had been out here recently and had evidently seen these people himself. He'd brought an interesting tale home with him...

Ruth added a finishing touch or two, and shyly presented her grandfather with a quick sketch of the horsemen and accompanying warriors. It had been necessarily fast, but still managed to convey a fair amount of detail. Barbarossa complimented her, genuinely impressed, and said to be sure to keep it safe and show it to Mummy when we get back, hey?

He turned to the others.

"I'm pretty sure they're not going to choose a fight with us, but to be sure, we'll ride back inland, hey?"


Yuri Khemeletsky rode on with his command, curious that he'd seen his first Boers from the other side of the river. He suddenly remembered conversations he'd had with local people, and pulled himself up straight. That enormous over-scale man on the other side. That must have been Barbarossa Smith-Rhodes, who is the Ataman to the people opposite... the accompanying Zulu infantry had clearly realised who he was, and had looked worried. He called over their officer and they had an awkward conversation in three languages; the isiZulu Yuri was learning from his hosts, the Rodinian the Zulus were picking up from the Cossacks, and Morporkian, a language neither was greatly fluent in.

Apparently that was the one known as {{the Great Roaring Gorilla With The Silver Back}}, the Great Tikoloshe(20), or else Barbarossa Smith-Rhodes, the Father of The Inkosazanas, the Red Deaths. He was deadly and terrifying in battle and Induna to the Boer people opposite.

Yuri reflected on this. Twenty Zulu warriors had recognised him instantly and all were apprehensive about picking a fight with him.

He wished he'd tried to get the man into a parley, but also recalled his orders had been for absolutely minimal contact with the people opposite. He shrugged, feeling relieved that there'd been no fight. Not with a man built like that. Underneath the surface bluff and assurance, Yuri had an uncomfortable feeling his Cossacks had been outnumbered one-to fifteen.

Then he rode on.

More to come! Glad to be back after a long delay. In coming chapters: the Guild students on night watches. What will happen to Kristina de Vos? Will Famke be told there will be no comeback if Kristina ends up headfirst in the toilet? Concert Night at the Opera House. And the next steps in the Haartebeeste Incident. Watch this space!

(1) It worked. One of the sub-cellars dug by the Morporkian military engineers was still used for this purpose.

(2) Go to my story The Black Sheep. His older brother Andreas had shaken his head in despair and had remarked that "You were exiled from here to the Central Continent. Then the Central Continent decides it does not bloody well want you either, and exiles you straight out again. Where the Hells did you think you were going to go next, bloody Agatea? Fourecks? The Foggy Islands?" Luckily for you and unluckily for us, Agnetha's brother the Ambassador fixed it for a statute of limitations to apply, so you could come back here and not be slung straight out again. Well, be thankful Agnetha thinks there is something worthwhile in you that can be redeemed. She's always had a soft spot for you!"

(3) This Arrangement began in the time of my tale Gap Year Adventures and did indeed suit everybody involved.

(4) "Lord Rust, I was a prisoner of the Zulus for two years." Johanna van der Kaiboutje Smith-Rhodes had said to her captor. "Do you really think Morporkian captivity holds any terrors for me?" Rust had been pleased that two of the Most Wanted Rebels had surrendered of their own free will, reasoning that if the Smith-Rhodes women no longer wanted to fight, the rest of the dratted Boers would surely follow. He had felt generous, and had offered clemency. If the two Johannas signed pledges to lay down their weapons in perpetuity and swear their loyalty to Ankh-Morpork, then there was no need at all for them to serve prison terms. Rust had felt affronted when both of them flatly refused to do this, had said "Madam, you give me no choice", and sent them to be incarcerated in the Camps Where Rebel Families Are Concentrated. Which was, as we may see later, exactly where the two Johannas wanted to be.

(5) Miss Glynnie would have pointed out that this was not wholly fair to mark Famke down, as she, Ethylene Glynnie, had specialist skills not possessed by the vast majority of people, who might not, for instance, have noticed the very slight vibrating tremor in the air left by a young Assassin student who was, otherwise, moving with unimpeachable stealth.

(6) Also in my tale Gap Year Adventures. Famke's fascination with a baboon spider, which she tries to play with, terrified her mother and represents her first speaking part in the tales. Anecdotally, JRR Tolkien, who was born in South Africa and spent his first few years there, is said to have had a traumatic encounter, in infancy, with a baboon spider almost as big as he was. The memory lingered, and it is perhaps not unreasonable to speculate that Ungoliant and Shelob are ultimately based on South African wildlife!

(7) Advert: to my tale Fresh Pair of Eyes.

(8) These are not the homely, quaint, attractive-looking Sto Kerrigian/Dutch version of the windmill, oh no. The ones in Rimwards/Howondaland/South Africa operate to the same general principle and probably have the parent version from Holland somewhere in their remote ancestry. What we are discussing here are no-nonsense, stripped to the barest necessary skeletal framework, deceptively spindly-looking bare-bones water pumps where the smallest practicable set of sails operate a pump to draw up water from fairly deep underground. They tend to look like a combination of a Martian Tripod and a Japanese sun parasol.

(9) Provided civilian users of the Clacks were clearly aware that the Bureau of State Security routinely monitored non-military correspondence.

(10) Famke grinned. Her mother had managed a private Clacks line for the family at government expense. She'd even provided Ankh-Morpork trained goblins to staff it.

(11) For the tale of what happened to Horst Lensen when he first expressed an interest in Mariella Smith-Rhodes, go to Gap Year Adventures. As Ampie will point out to Kristina, that ended well. Eventually.

(12) This is a thing with South Africans abroad. Part of the stereotype, a misperception that many Saffies will tell you is utterly wrong, is that everybody lives up-country and near enough to the native African wildlife to be in tune with nature and nature's rich bounty. Innocent asks like "Did you have a pet chimp/lion/giraffe/baby elephant when you were growing up?" can be met by winces from Saffies who will tell you things like prides of hunting lions are a bit thin on the ground in Joburg, where I grew up. Ag man, you don't get urban lions. We'd notice. It is possible to be a South African who has never seen a lion in their life (trips to zoos excepted).

(13) On a previous visit, Uncle Baal had bonded with his great-nieces and had taken a particular liking to Famke, remarking that "you remind me of Mariella when she was younger." Famke had felt complimented and had happily accepted his lessons in how to cheat at card games. That is, until Ouma Agnetha had noticed and put a stop to it.

(14) Men got to cook the meat. But women were still expected to do the background slog and prepare it. And as the braai was a white-people-only thing, white women in Rimwards Howondaland were socially expected to do most of the background kitchen work. It was one of those sorts of social arrangements.

(15) See my Hogswatch tale La nuit de Pere Porcher for an instance of this. Heidi pointed out she'd been given the job of gently awakening Miss Smith-Rhodes, as she was the only other person there who spoke Vondalaans.

(16) Go to Gap Year Adventures, in which Mariella is inducted into the Army alongside a comrade called Anna de Vos.

(17) Johanna fervently hoped this would be so.

(18) Yulia Vizhinsky had said "translated even further, devyuschka, the words mean "We're Cossacks and we like a good fight." Yulia was Rodinian, but not a Cossack.

(19) Здравствуй, бур! Рад встрече с вами! Вы не враг! - Hey, Boer! Pleased to meet you! You are not the enemy! ("Zdravstvuy, Boer! rad vstreche se vami! vy ne vrag!")

(20) Apparently there are Tokoloshe - supernatural creatures akin to bogeymen and goblins that rise to no great height but seek to terrify by night. And then there's the Tikoloshe, a sort of specialised Tokoloshe that can come by day or night, looks like an African version of Bigfoot, and knows no fear, only a battle-lust, and roars like a lion in his rage to fight and kill. A silverback gorilla is the dominant member of the family, is fiercely protective of family members, and can get very emphatic in his wishes. One such is a character in my tale Nature Studies, and becomes a friend of the librarian, who treats him with inter-ape diplomacy and respect. The Inkosazana is an avatar of the goddess of Death and also roams by night, seeking souls. Some online depictions of her show her with red hair...

Notes Dump

22/9/24: rugby score; Argentina 29 – SuidAfrika – 28. With home advantage in Buenos Aires, admittedly, and the second leg to be played in SuidAfrika. Argentina, though, shaping up to be a damn fine team.

28/9/24: and in the second leg at Nelspruit: SuidAfrika -48, Argentina - 7. Defeat duly avenged.

Reading into the history of South Africa on our world, so as to add plausible and correct detail to "Rimwards Howondaland".

Blockhouses: a chain of permanent fortifications built across South Africa in the early 1900s, so as to dominate strategic areas, to deny free movement to the Boer rebels, and to provide fixed points from which to launch counter-insurgency sweeps and offensives. There were a bewildering variety of different types built – these were not a standard pattern fortification by any means – and rather like those flak towers in German cities in WW2, were often so robustly built that it would have been difficult or even impossible to knock them down. Therefore many of them remain today, as an echo of British colonial rule. The one I have described on the Smith-Rhodes family land is fairly typical.

The Concentration Camps: were a British innovation. The reasoning was that if the wives and children of the Boer rebels were rounded up and detained indefinitely as Guests of the Empire, those thousands of hostages would be a very good incentive for the rebel Boer fighters to lay down their arms and give up a hopeless war against British imperial might.

The camps were not meant to be punitive and the underlying intention, at least initially, was good. But bad management and corruption soon meant the detention facilities became places of starvation and poor care, where malnutrition and disease became rife, and a lot of needless and preventable death happened. Today, the memory of the British camp system is still a grievance and an open sore among Afrikaaners. Emily Hobhouse, an influential British woman employed to work for post-war conciliation between Boer and Britse, soon became a loud and widely-heard voice speaking out and campaigning against conditions in the camps, embarrassing the British administration wherever she could and ensuring reports on squalid camp conditions were disseminated far and wide in the world. Emily Hobhouse became one of those very few British people to be acclaimed as a South African national heroine by Afrikaaners, and even had a warship named after her in the twentieth century South African navy. (One thing White Afrikaaners played down, however, is that her concern was colour-blind and she was as much concerned for the even worse conditions in which black and coloured Africans were detained in 1899 – 1902)

I've given her a Discworld alternate – one of the sort of forceful energetic Ladies Who Organise, of whom Sybil Ramkin is an exemplar. Mrs Gladys Cleethorpes may also appear in this tale, and of course she will be a Quirm Academy alumna. Or whatever the Quirm Academy might have been called, a long time before Miss Eulalie Butts and Miss Delacross took over its management.

As a footnote, when the British took part in the ill-fated expedition to Russia in 1919 designed to shore up the Tsarist White Army and beat down the beastly Bolsheviks, they also installed concentration camps in their area of occupation, designed to isolate and re-educate the damned Reds. In 1919, there would still have been older men in the British Army with memories of administering the South African camps – and soon enough, the British-run Gulags on the Kola Peninsula went the same inevitable way. (picked up a story that when the British left, the new administration in Russia took over at least one camp...)

When the old South Africa became a nuclear power in 1977, the research station where its nukes were created was officially an out-station of the University of Witwatersrand in Pretoria/Johannesburg. Out in the bush, a mere twelve miles away from the city at Velindaba/Pelindaba. (turnwise).

I am seeing the visiting Ponder Stibbons discovering something like this going on so relatively close to a major city, and going nuts with all his Faculty-honed senses of danger twanging. The fact he's been married to Johanna for a couple of decades, and is completely aware of her irresistible attraction to interesting lethal weaponry, is no comfort either. He will then reflect that his daughter Famke is Mummy's Little Girl in every applicable respect. This will not be a comfortable thought either.

Local Wizards will slap him on the back and say "Ag, man, nothing's gone off bang yet! We can worry about that just now, if anything happens. Make a plan. Hey Ponder, m'guzzie, got some zamalek in the cooler. Or Amstel? Hanser pilsner? Windhoek? (pause) Hey, Barry! Fire up the braai, Ponder's hungry!"

Achondrophobia – fear of dwarves...

Numbers 23:19: bit of a dead giveaway... "God is not a man, that he should lie; neither the son of man, that he should repent" (KJV).

MSM comment and discussion forums, where I seem to be getting moderated with depressing frequency...

"This comment was deleted because it didn't meet our guidelines" - I think I'll copy and paste this everywhere I make a comment from now on, it'll save time. But seriously... one heavily ironic comment , based on events earlier this summer and meant to be read as deep mordant sarcasm - it gets pulled? Who's moderating these comment forums, Mother Theresa?

Afrikaans: idiom for "I will shortly be on my period" in English, is "Granny's coming in the red car". Worth noting here. Ouma kom in die rooi kar.

"Ek hoor jou. Julle mense bly aan julle kant, en daar sal nie 'n probleem wees nie!"

- stay on your side of the river, and there will be no bother.

Japanese: "Tawawa" is the onomatopoeia word for the sound made when low hanging fruit sways. Also refers to bouncing breasts – a low pun.

Russian: Здравствуй, бур! Рад встрече с вами! Вы не враг! - Hey, Boer! Pleased to meet you! You are not the enemy! (zdravstvuy, Boer! rad vstreche se vami! vy ne vrag!)

Also the web comic Erma, about what happens when an onryi spirit, a youkai ghost taking the form of the memetic Stringy Haired Ghost Girl, is only about eight years old, is the daughter of an exiled Youkai undead spirit and her human husband, and is actually disposed to be pleasant and friendly to her human schoolfriends. It's actually quite lovely to read and a pain-free introduction to Japanese folklore. Recommended!

Interesting comments. I'm good enough at French to be able to watch French TV without floundering or getting totally lost. I got into one of the most popular sitcoms in France, "Les Filles D'a Coté" ("The Girls Next Door"). This is a sort of knock-off of "Friends" working on the same premis: three women and three men living in the same apartment block make friends. The visual look of the show is of above-averagely good looking people who spend time in a health club/gym wearing skimpy work-out clothing. Except for the introduction of two older and visibly overweight characters, who appear to have been brought in as grotesques, as a terrible warning of what happens when people get fat, really exaggerated caricatures of the overweight. (Thus scaring the main cast into staying in trim and attractive, and as a PIF to viewers.). I discovered I wasn't imagining it - fat people in France really are viewed this way and their negative (stereotyped) representation in a very popular comedy show was only to be expected.