Interlude Chapter Three
V0.05 -A revision of a revision. it never ends. Silly little things. Aargh! Words chopped out randomly by FF and lots of silly little spelling errors caused either by my working too quickly (I know I'm onto a good thing when the ideas flow so fast my fingers cannot keep up) or else by predictive text acting as Artificial Stupidity, the text version of AI "art" (see endnote)
Also on this revision, thanks to readers Geoff Watson and Fionn the Otaku, who PM'd or reviewed me with some really useful comments and corrections - very much appreciated. I'll have a think and try to incorporate this!
Of Geishas and Torii Gates?
Just realised I've used the character name Mrs Lydia Dustbin before. Fortunately, in "Slipping Between Worlds", she runs a shop nearby to Hide Park. So no retcon needed there, which is fortuitous! (Hide Park, in Ankh-Morpork, is just to the Turnwise and Hubwards of Dimwell, and the Alchemists' Quarter is to its Widdershins. So Emiko and Erma's lodgings will not need to be retconned. Lovely, continuity established, by accident).
Also...I was reminded of the very first Agatean artefact to be introduced in the Discworld. Our world's Erma appears to have something similar in her bedroom in Blairwood, which she uses as a toybox.
Any Erma fans coming here who've never been to the Discworld before – I hope it's all clear in context. (see intro notes to Chapter Two for where I've made a couple of changes – Emiko is now human and her lost husband in Agatea/Japan was the yokai) I may need to do a quick set of notes at the end for you?
"Agateans" appear in the canonical Discworld novels The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic, and the country gets a book to itself in Interesting Times.
Ankh-Morpork, on a Number Fourteen omnibus on Seven Sleepers, heading Hubwards to Nap Hill and Least Gate.
Emiko Yureimoto hugged her daughter protectively to her. She smiled at the idea of Fortune suddenly favouring her, in small things. They'd followed Mrs Dustbin's advice and taken the Number Fourteen bus to Nap Hill. On Water Street, there would indeed be public baths, taking advantage of natural hot springs. There had been something else, too. Emiko had looked up, and to her utter surprise, had seen the flying women for the first time. Erma had also been fascinated by them and had watched them in the sky, confident and poised on what looked like... adapted household brooms, as used by servants and cleaners?
Emiko suddenly felt her daughter's shoulders rising, and looked down to see Erma had risen vertically off the hard wooden bench. Not by very far, and the drape of her white dress concealed what was going on. but still...
"Iyé!" she said, firmly, and Erma settled, descending by a couple of inches.
"We don't want to draw attention to ourselves." her mother had said, more kindly, in Agatean. Erma had raised big trusting eyes to Mummy-san, and nodded.
"Or, no more attention than is absolutely necessary." Emiko amended.
The clearly foreign woman in clearly foreign clothing - "Some sort of Agatean, do you reckon?" - with the very pale little girl next to her, had hardly been inconspicuous.
Emiko had smiled sweetly and made the most minimal bow consistent with politeness, and had said:
"Yes, I am some sort of Agatean. And I speak and understand Morporkian."
The man had reddened and mumbled apologies. Other travellers watching the street theatre had said things like "Well said, love!" and "Your little girl looks a bit peaky."
Erma had flashed her most guile-less and charming smile. This had won friends as well. It tended to.
"I assure you, she is naturally pale." Emiko had said. With complete honesty, she added "Some Agatean people are. It is possible she gets it from her father."
"It's obvious you're not from round here, love." said the friendly woman. "New to the City, are you?"
"We arrived six days ago, by ship." Emiko said. Seeking to change the conversation, she asked about the flying women in the sky. Her new friend smiled knowingly.
"You really are new to the City, then! They're the Air Watch, love. Like flying Watchmen.. women. They're all Witches, see, but they works for Stoneface Vimes. He commands the Watch."
"I see." Emiko said, thoughtfully. "And those were ordinary kitchen broomsticks, such as you might use to sweep a floor?"
The woman laughed.
"Not those broomsticks!" she said. "I suppose you could use them to sweep a floor with. But our Witches charge them up with magic, don't ask me how, and use them for flying on."
"I see." Emiko said again. Inside her mind, a train of thought was reminding her there was such a broom propped up in the corner of the apartment, and that it was worth making the attempt...
Magic back home in Agatea insisted flight was only possible, for those who were human and not yokai or yuri, if your Affinity was with a bird of land or water. Emiko's Affinity was not with birds. Therefore, she had always thought, she was confined to earth.
But if Witches here have a way of flying... I now see this is possible.
She stored the interesting thought up for later. For now, there were Duties to perform. And although these people were pleasant and friendly and even hospitable, she was still aboard a confined public omnibus with lots of Morporkians who all seemed to have a casual attitude to bathing and keeping clothing clean. She wanted to get off the bus as soon as she could. The cocktail of bodily smells was overpowering. The smell of overworked horse drifting back from the front of the coach added an extra note, of equine sweat and occasional horse-fart.
She turned to the attendant of the omnibus, the responsible person who appeared to be in charge and was taking fares. He was barely four feet tall, perhaps a lot less, and wore chain-mail and serviceable leather, with an axe slung across his back. He also wore a round helmet that rose to a blunt point, with horns inserted opposite each other to left and right. Ah, a Koropokguru. We have such people at Home. (1)
Emiko made a deferential bow to him.
"Please. Honourable Sir. We seek a place called Hope Springs."
She indicated the bag at her feet. It looked like a common jute bag, made of plant-derived fibres, with a leather drawstring threaded through the neck.
"I am told there are bath-houses there that serve the body, and laundries there for our clothing."
The Dwarf smiled, with benevolence. He'd never been called a Honourable Sir before. He decided he quite liked Agateans.
"Mrs Mangle's got a place, ma'am." he replied. "At Clean Cut, just off Water Street. You need to get off at Hope Square, where Water Street begins. I'll point it out to you. Loads of bath-houses round there too. I'll tell you where to get off and point it out to you, how's that?"
Emiko bowed again.
"Thank you, Korupokguru-sama." she replied. Inwardly, she wondered if that was the right word. The korupokguru tended to be smaller than that. Waisei, perhaps? There were so many different kindreds. It was hard to keep track. But korpokguru would serve. Shibafu o kazaru tame ni shibafu no ue ni oka reru sōshoku-tekina zō was unwieldy, as well as, perhaps, needlessly offensive.
The Dwarf grinned. She was being nice and polite. That probably meant something good in Agatean. He wondered about asking her. (2) Then new fares got on and tickets needed to be issued.
A little later, Emiko and Erma got off at a pleasantly tree-lined square. It felt like a more affluent district than Dimwell, she noted. More space, bigger buildings, and better-dressed people. As they followed the Dwarf's directions, she also noted "mainly, better-smelling, too. And there are faint but unmistakable signs of nearby public bath-houses."
Erma, her hand firmly in Mummy-san's free left hand, seemed captivated and was looking around her with interest and wonder. Emiko smiled down at her.
"A new city, a new world." she said, aware her daughter had only previously seen HungHung City and Bes Pelargic, where they had taken ship.
She tried not to think of the ship and the voyage, and again wondered how a life in exile would work out here. I need work. Income. The handful of rhinu I brought with me will last a few months, but not forever.
She then discovered it's not a wise thing to allow your attention to slip in Ankh-Morpork, or to be distracted by an inner monologue. She was suddenly buffeted by somebody barging into her right side, sending her and Erma stumbling, and she felt the bag being wrenched from her right hand. She glimpsed the thief running away, and shouted in outrage.
Erma slipped her hand from her mother's, and Emiko realised her daughter was getting angry. Erma ran after the thief. Emiko wanted to shout "All he got was a bag of dirty laundry!" but the words didn't come.
She saw the thief, slowing to a walk, opening the bag in curiosity to see what was inside. And then he recoiled, screamed and dropped the bag. Emiko realised. Erma had performed one of her little Tricks. And her daughter was clearly outraged that somebody had not only stolen their bag, he'd hit Mummy.
Emiko hoped nobody else had seen that the open mouth of the bag had inexplicably turned into the head of something with lots of teeth and a lot of hissing anger, like perhaps a small dragon. Of course the man had dropped it and screamed. And Erma paused in retrieving it, and flicked her hair back and looked at him, with her Angry Face on. He screamed, rolled and gibbered on the ground.
Erma spared him no further attention, retrieved the bag, and ran back to her mother, her face that of a smiling, big-eyed, appealing child once more, and the laundry bag being nothing more than a seemingly ordinary bag again. Emiko sighed. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be too many other people on the street, and the incident had lasted for less than a minute. Nobody else appeared to have noticed exactly what had happened, although the sight of a terrified street thief rolled up into a ball and gibbering was arousing mild interest. She thought, quickly.
"This way". she said to Erma. They very quickly took a side-street. By sheer luck, it was Clean Cut, where Mrs Dorothy Mangle(3) had a branch of her laundry business. They passed into the shop front of the premises, and the door closed behind them as a bell rang.
On Water Street, people were now signalling upwards to alert a passing Air Watch patrol.
"Some gorgeous silk." the small plump woman said, as she assessed the clothing brought to her. "Made in Agatea? Thought so."
She smiled at Emiko.
"The linen, we can do as normal." she said. "Silk takes special care and handling, but we pride ourselves on doing a good job. It can be ready tomorrow afternoon? Now we just need to talk about the price. Sixty-five pence, including a premium for the silk?" (4)
Emiko rummaged under her obi for a well-concealed purse. She had once read Twoflower-sama's illuminating treatise What I Did On My Holidays, and was thankful it had a clear idea about currency exchange and relative values. She sorted out a handful of coin and selected a quarter-rhinu. The woman behind the counter whistled at the glimmer of gold. Quite a lot of gold.
"I hope you keep that safely." she said. "Lots of unscrupulous people out there."
Emiko smiled at Erma. Erma smiled back.
"I think it will be very safe." she said. "I am told this will be sufficient?"
The woman blinked at the sight of gold. Although the coin was small, it still weighed heavily on her palm.
"Oh, easily so." she assured Emiko. "Look. I don't want to cheat you. There are two things we can do here. I can make change in Ankh-Morporkian money. I'd need to send out for more, though, as there's not too much in the till. Or – how long are you staying? We can open an account and this should be good for nine or ten visits. Easily."
"From my information, possibly twelve laundry loads." Emiko said, remembering the chapter in What I Did On My Holidays that dealt with currency exchange and relative values.
The woman smiled, thinly. They agreed to open an account in the name of Mrs Emiko Yureimoto that would cover things for quite some time to come. Erma smiled up at her. The woman smiled back.
"Such a lovely little girl." she said. "What's your name, my love?"
"She is called Erma." Emiko said. "Forgive me, she is not a great talker."
"Dumb, poor mite. Ah well, it happens."
Emiko paused for a second. "Dumb" was not entirely the correct and full story about Erma and speech, but it would serve, for now, and avert a long explanation.
"I thank you for your sympathy." she said. "One last question, Mrs Dorothy Mangle-san." Emiko said. "Which bath-house nearby to here would you recommend to us?"
Mrs Mangle considered this.
There's one just down the street, three doors down." she said. "I've met Agateans before and I know you prefer really hot water? Well, this might be right for you. It's run by foreigners, but honest people. They'd have to be, what with you carrying all that gold on you."
Shortly afterwards, Emiko and Erma were standing in front of a building which emanated the wonderful smells and sensations of hot steam and soap-perfumed air. The sign over the door was in three languages, including one in a bizarre script she couldn't make sense of.
Баня и холодная ванная комната (Березовые веточки свежие через день)
Kylpylä ja kylmä uima-allas (Suomesta tuodut koivunoksat)
Clear Cut Bath-House. Banya and sauna facilities available here. Birch twigs extra. (Tuesdays: women only)
Emiko smiled. Today was Tuesday.
Soon, she and Erma were relaxing in an acceptably hot shared bath. Neither was in a hurry to move. Emiko added a new item to her store of knowledge: the peoples called Rodinians and Swommis, who ran this place together, knew about bathing. And this was a sento; possibly, from what the bath attendants said, also an onsen. Emiko smiled with pleasure. Things were looking up.
Hope Square, just off Water Street:
The Air Watch patrol had circled at rooftop height, sensing something was wrong that required a Watch presence. They had registered the man curled up in a ball on the ground being inexpertly attended by concerned citizens, and the two Air Witches had quickly landed.
The patrol commander, Officer Bethany Hargreaves, knelt by the stricken man. She tried to calm him, using both Watchwoman's authority and Witch-skills.
"Go and get a clacks out, would you?" she directed her partner. "Lady Sybil, bedlam case, man suddenly afflicted by madness on Water Street, near to the corner of Clear Cut. Also, lacerating wounds to his right hand, as if he's been bitten by something. Needs an ambulance, and maybe a straitjacket. Also to the Yard, advise control we might be here for a while. Thanks."
Thae patrol partner, a more senior cadet officer out on a ride-along to See Practice, acknowledged and went to send the messages. Bethany breathed out and tried to get through to him, as well as to keep him still enough to dress the bite-marks on his hand. But all the wide-eyed hysterical man could say was "The teeth! Oh Gods, the teeth. And her face." and then go into hysterical weeping again. Bethany sighed a resigned sigh and wondered why she'd so wanted to sign up to the Air Watch, back in the Chalk during the Lancre War six years previously.(5) It had seemed like a good idea at the time. She deftly searched the hapless man for ID, as his writhing subsided and pockets became available.
Foxeknot Shrubs, off Myrtle Lane, nearby to the Apothecary Gardens:
The Dark Clerk and Assassin Sam Williams (Licenced and Articled Assassin, Tree Frog House) leant back from the urgent paperwork on his study desk, and exhaled. Secretary Drumknott, hearing the report that he'd been invited to accompany the Watch on a street patrol that night, had consulted briefly with Lord Vetinari, then come back to say His Lordship was pleased to give permission. Without actually saying so, Drumknott had conveyed the impression that the Patrician was actually quite amused at the idea of an Assassin mustering with the Watch and that Sir Samuel Vimes would be punching the wall over this one.
Sam had been given indefinite paid leave from duties by day, and Drumknott had mentioned that if he proved to be key with solving the situation involving the supernatural incursion from Agatea, thus embarrassing the City Watch, then the Palace might well be generous in terms of a bonus. So you are to consider yourself as being on indefinite attachment to the City Watch, Clerk Samuel Williams.
"Sir Samuel Vimes is to be instructed." Drumknott had added. "If you're not due on duty with the Watch until eight this evening, then you may as well return home to rest and prepare yourself."
Sam had grabbed the opportunity with both hands.
He had busied himself with his other job. The Secretariat knew about it, of course, and Vetinari had given tacit approval. And while it wasn't currently paying as much as working as a Dark Clerk, it was far more absorbing.
He studied the opened-out pages in front of him and focused. He was on Page Thirty-Two and the artwork depicted a crucial scene. Several idealised Agatean schoolgirls were in a room together and a tense argument was going on.
Usagi Tsukino has just said "それなら、私は月の船乗りになるというマントを引き受けなければなりません!」" The question is how to best render this as an accurate translation into Morporkian, and ideally one short enough to fit the space in the speech bubble. Let's see... sorenara、 watashi wa tsuki no funanori ni naru toiu manto wa hikiuke nakere ba nari mase n !" How can I best phrase that in Morporkian? And in a form where three exclamation marks do not look excessive?
Sam worked on. The side job for Big Dave Stamper, who had sole rights to import and market Agatean man-gi comics in Ankh-Morpork, was working out well. Sam had refused the initial cash offer, pointing out that people equally fluent in Agatean and Morporkian must be few on the ground in this City. "I've seen those translation notes the Agateans tuck into the comics they export. They mean well and you get the general gist, but really. "All your base are belong to us"? It can be done better. I know I can do them better. So we can go up a bit in terms of dollars, Mr Stamper?"
Sam could work both quickly and accurately at translation out of Agatean. And Big Dave Stamper, once pinned down to a written agreement, paid promptly. Versions carrying a Sam Williams translation booklet, as opposed to those with the original approximate Morporkian provided by the printers in Agatea, carried a premium. Comic fans were happy to pay it. Thus, Sam got a couple of pennies commission on the price of each comic sold, as well as his monthly agreed pay from Big Dave.
Sam was happy with this. Two pennies per copy didn't sound much. But a hundred copies sold was two dollars. For doing something he loved. And he could live comfortably on his Dark Clerk pay. The earnings from the translation work were piling up in an interest-attracting savings account at the Royal Bank, which was useful.
He worked on. He'd had another idea, which was something that interested Big Dave. Rather than import the comics in Agatean, and to add a translation booklet, would it not be possible to blank out the translation bubbles, over-write them directly in Morporkian, and reprint the comics here?
Big Dave had been intrigued by the idea. He had pointed out that he needed some sort of licencing agreement with the Agateans over this, as it amounted to reprinting their copyrighted stuff and cutting them out of royalties. He really didn't want samurai, or ninja, or some sort of twenty-foot tall lethal killing golem, or a fifty-foot tall fire-breathing lizard, turning up at the shop to discuss copyright with him. But in principle, he really liked the idea. "Have a go at it, Sam, and show me what you come up with?"
There was indeed a sample comic pinned to an easel, where Sam had been experimenting with ways of blanking out the text in speech bubbles. He reflected that if you could get a slightly off-white paint that matched the background paper, and it had to be fairly thick and not so absorbent that it would bleed through to the next page, that would be a start. But you still had to be able to write on it, once it was dry.
Sam was still experimenting with creating a medium that could white-out text on paper.
He wondered if he'd actually see anything while he was patrolling with the Watch that night. And the Area of Interest was everything between the Apothecary Gardens, down through Hide Park, and then out to The Soake and down through Dimwell to Short Street. The three mysterious episodes involving the probably Agatean mystery girl had happened at widely spread locations in that part of the City.
He sighed.
Well, it means I get a refresher on Movement By Night and Urban Survival. And, who knows, I might see something interesting.
He was to report to the Air Watch Duty Officer at seven-thirty and she'd make the introductions. At least Emily would be there, so he knew one Watch officer. He considered Emily Pargeter. She could be gauche, she could be toe-curlingly embarrassing in her enthusiasm, he'd had to do some diplomatic talking on her behalf, on more than one occasion in Agatea; but she was basically pleasant and likeable. He'd even invited her here to the house to "see my collection of Agatean scrolls, books, etchings and comics."(7)
Emily had squeaked with pleasure and enthusiasm at so much Agatean stuff. He had explained about his other job working for Dave Stamper, and she'd expressed interest. A lightbulb had switched on at that point, and Sam had made a Suggestion. He had given her a copy of a man-gi comic for which he'd already written a translation, and suggested she tried out. He wanted to see exactly how good her ability to read Agatean was, and to compare her attempted translation of the captions against his own, to make an independent assessment. after explaining form and convention – identify the frame number then write down, by character name or initials, what the people in the picture were saying – he left her to it, with some good Agatean – Morporkian dictionaries to hand.
To his pleasant surprise, she was surprisingly good at translating written Agatean, and with practice, could only get better. And practice was what she needed, of course. That, and experience. He'd been accompanying her to Agatea for nearly two years now. The instruction from Vetinari to ensure she came to no harm, and where possible to do the actual diplomacy yourself, had been a welcome one. He'd lived and worked in Agatea for maybe six years after graduating: he was beginning to miss the place after being posted home.
Life had been getting boring in Ankh-Morpork, working what was largely a desk job in the Agatea and Aurient bureau of the Secretariat. Oh, it had perks, like banquets at the various Embassies. Even Hubwards Grimchi, who now maintained an Embassy out of an otherwise unremarkable suburban house off Spa Lane, could be an interesting visit.(8) But... Ankh-Morpork had been a come-down after HungHung City.
His old schoolteacher, Miss Koukouchou-sama, had been friendly and had reminded Sam she'd been his teacher for seven years and had seen potential in him. Sam had been a boy worth investing a little extra attention to. He had too much talent to waste, for one thing, and she noted with approval the way his Agatean had become very good indeed. Vetinari had rotated him back to Ankh-Morpork not because he'd been bad at the job. It was just that there had been other students, graduates of the Assassins' Guild who had also excelled in her training at the Agatean Studies Department, to whom it would have been unfair to deny the same opportunity Sam had received. Be patient, Sam-chan, and there will be other opportunities. (9)
He grinned and shook his head slightly. Today had been the first day he'd actually visited the Air Station, the base for the Pegasus Service. Knowing Sir Samuel Vimes' attitude to Assassins in the Yard, it had been Lieutenant Irena Politeka who had acted as his intermediary with the Watch command. She had ensured that Emily stopped at the Palace every time, to pick him up, rather than his coming directly to the Air Station. So as to prevent things happening, she had said. And today had also been the first time he'd actually ever met Captain Olga Romanoff. She had impressed him.
He worked on, a track in his mind considering his future. He was, for instance, twenty-seven years old, soon, and single. No sign of a plausible Mrs Williams. His parents were beginning to drop hints and speaking approvingly of his two brothers, who were both married with children.
He sighed. He'd just been too busy with absorbing and fulfilling things. There'd been no time for girlfriends. They wouldn't understand his deep and abiding passion for Agatea, for one thing. He had a suspicion any putative Mrs Williams who came into this house, and saw his comic collection, would immediately declare That's got to go!
Just been too busy with absorbing and fulfilling things. There'd been no time for girlfriends. A sarcastic little inner voice repeated. Flip the gender, Sam and that's exactly how a typical Witch thinks. Witches, Sam.
He winced. There was Emily. He'd sometimes wondered if she might have, you know, a little thing for him. Then he reflected that it was a partnership, certainly, shared interests, definitely, and we're certainly friends... but there's not much else there, and could I be, you know, actually married to her? He decided probably not, so do not get carried away, and got back to the job.
Hope Square, just off Water Street:
Officer Bethany Hargreaves, Air Watch, stood by as the ambulance orderlies injected a heavy sedative and carried the now-still Thief into the back, listening to him burbling about the teeth... that girl... Even when the doors closed, she could still hear the shape of the mumbling.
She sighed and stood by the two broomsticks, guarding them out of reflex, wondering where her patrol partner had got to.
To her relief, Senior Cadet Vasilisa Budonova, who had been with the Watch for several months, walked over to her to report in.
"Where've you been?" Bethany asked.
"You were busy with injured man. Did not require two of us. I went to locate people who saw incident and took notes."
Bethany accepted this, and said, for the form of it:
"Okay, good thinking. But don't just wander off on your own. Tell me first?"
Vasilisa inclined her head. Bethany regarded her and tried not to sigh. Fifteen years old, with experience in her native corner of Rodinia behind her, followed up by further training in Lancre and the Chalk, and graded "Very Good" at flying by Hanna von Strafenburg, Captain Romanoff had brought her to the City Circuit and the Air Watch. Vasilisa, in fact, was Captain Romanoff's personal selection and pupil. Olga Romanoff only picked the very best.
Bethany had an uneasy feeling this was somebody who'd outclass her as a Watchwoman in every respect. Vasilisa was also blonde, and not just any old blonde, she was the sort of blonde that men would come to look upon with longing and despair. Bethany was a more homely mousy brunette. In every respect, Bethany told herself.
"Well done." she said, reading the hastily scribbled reports.
She frowned.
"The common theme is that there was an Agatean couple in the street, looked like mother and daughter." she remarked. "The older woman got mugged, her bag was stolen, the Thief judges he's not going to be pursued, and opens it up to take a look at what's inside. At the same time the daughter, a little girl no older than about ten, dressed all in white, with the sort of pale skin that made one eyewitness ask how long it was since she last saw daylight. The little girl goes chasing him, but long before she gets there, this man screams in absolute horror, as if something inside that bag is not nice to see. Then the girl retrieves the bag and walks back to her mum."
Bethany shook her head.
"Where did they go?" she asked. Vasilisa replied:
"I asked, but people were intent on man on ground, screaming and raving. They did not see where the woman in Agatean clothing went. Nor her daughter, pale girl with dark hair, dressed in white."
Bethany sighed again, resignedly.
"Let's get airborne." she said. "We'll fly a couple of circuits around the local streets to see if we can spot them, but my guess is, they'll be long gone by now. Then back to the Yard to report in and file the case."
Some time later, with the Air Watch patrol long gone, Emiko and Erma left the bath-house, feeling clean and happy and refreshed, and walked back to Hope Square to take a different omnibus to their next port of call, which would be on the Morpork side of town.
The Agatean Studies Department, Mollymog Street, Ankh-Morpork
Captain Olga Romanoff had a Witch's ability to time visits to interesting places for that point in the day when tea was most likely to be offered. Three o'clock in the afternoon felt about right for this one. Her friend Johanna Smith-Rhodes, a Guild School teacher, had mentioned it once. She wasn't surprised to encounter another old acquaintance just outside the Teaching Donjon.
"Professor Rincewind!" she said, amicably, feigning a little surprise. "Now don't run away. We haven't seen each other in a while, have we?"
She took his arm, in a manner that would seem like a friendly interaction. It communicated We're the City Watch. We have experience in catching people. And running away at this point would arouse our interest, and suggest you have a reason to be running. So let's dispense with the physical exercise and skip straight to your, for instance, telling me why you're here?
"Captain Romanoff." Rincewind replied. "Err... you're here to speak to Miss Pretty Butterfly too?"
"Got it in one." Olga said, amicably. "I will not mess around, Professor. I am a Witch. You are a Wizard."
"Spelt with two z's, please." Rincewind reminded her. Olga smoothly adjusted her pronunciation.
"You are a Wizzard." she corrected herself. "You are on the Faculty of Unseen University. I command the Air Watch. Both our organisations are sensitive to psychic and supernatural disturbances. And both of us are charged with dealing with them. There is at present an un-known spiritual entity in the city who is believed to originate from Agatea. She has certainly caused disruption in the City."
Rincewind made a reluctant nod.
"Is that the one who manifested at the University last night?" he asked.
Olga suddenly became very interested.
"You are going to tell me about this." she said. It wasn't a request.
"And we are both here to request a conversation with Miss Pretty Butterfly. Who is Agatean and teaches about the language, customs and the history of her people."
"It's possible she might know something, yes." Rincewind said, relieved he wasn't going to be arrested.
"Khoroscho." Olga said, approvingly. "From now on, we share information."
A kimono-clad girl came to the door to answer their knocks. Olga and Rincewind returned her bow. Olga noticed she wasn't Agatean, but was impeccably dressed and hairstyled to conform with Agatean conventions.
Olga quickly introduced herself and explained what they were there.
The girl asked them to come in and she'd talk to the sensei-sama.
"Err... street boots?" she prompted.
"Of course." Olga said. This was a familiar Rodinian thing too. You did not wear street-shoes indoors. She tugged her Watch boots off, and accepted the offered slippers. Rincewind did the same. She braced herself for the aroma of feet and old socks, but there was none. This surprised her
Rincewind looked hurt.
"Look, I do see Butterfly fairly regularly." he said. "Right from the start she sort of, err, instructed me as to how things are."
"Clean feet and fresh socks." Olga remarked. "In Rodinia, we have a similar custom. Cleanliness therefore becomes imperative."
The girl who'd answered the door, a senior Student Assassin, led them into the building, which inside was a perfect replica of a higher-class dwelling in Agatea. Olga admired the discreet good taste and the attractiveness of the furniture and decoration. They were led through a succession of delicate rice-paper and bamboo screens decorated with exquisite art.
They discovered the Assassins' Guild's principal teacher in Agatean Cultural Studies was indeed supervising a lesson, one where girl students were being schooled in how to perform the Tea Ceremony. Miss Pretty Butterfly was supervising. Olga noted she wore a kimono in Assassin black, with a purple waist-sash, the obi announcing by its colour that she was on the teaching faculty. The two samurai swords threaded through the waist-sash were a courtesy detail.
She stood, and bowed. Olga and Rincewind bowed back.
"Olga Romanoff-sama." she said, politely. Then she smiled slightly.
"Great Wizzard-chan." she remarked.
"Koucouchou-chan." Rincewind replied.
"The tea is, I'm sorry to say, only bancha." she said. "I consider it sufficient for instructing students in the tea ceremony. As you are my guests, I can call for gyokuro or for matcha?"
"Whatever you consider appropriate, Miss Butterfly." Olga said. "I was wondering if I might ask your advice on a problem?"
She nodded to her left.
"It is also Professor Rincewind's problem." she said. "Strange things have been happening in the streets, and at the University, which may be related. We believe they have an Agatean association."
"Then come and make yourselves comfortable." Pretty Butterfly said. She smiled at her students.
"My pupils know the value of discretion." she said. "Anything said within these walls will, from their point of view, remain within these walls." A very elegantly voiced threat, Olga noted.
They knelt, discussed the Problem, and sipped exquisitely made tea. Olga smiled. The three o'clock teabreak sometimes took a different form.
Clay Street, Ankh-Morpork.
Emiko had been warned that while their destination laid on the outer fringes of the Shades, the Number Eleven Bus passed all the way down Elm Street and through the heart of the Shades. You stand out a mile, ma'am, so keep a really tight grip on any valuables you're carrying?
Emiko had realized this meant the money-pouch full of gold, had courteously thanked the bath-house attendant for her concern, and had doubled down on the defences around her cash-pouch. The money-purse had something in common with the jute bag she had used to carry the laundry.(10) And Erma was now watching for danger. Emiko felt that security was completely covered. Even if an increasing proportion of the people on this bus were dirtier, smellier, meaner-looking and a lot less friendly than those in Nap Hill. She noted the Dwarf conductor on this omnibus carried the standard axe, certainly, but also had several sharp knives and a compact pistol crossbow.
The only remotely pleasant – and, Emiko had to admit, well-dressed and clean-smelling passenger to get on - had been an elegant, attractive, sympathetic woman. She seemed out of place on this omnibus, but Emiko noted how she was being treated with a sort of deferential respect from other passengers. She had sat in the vacant place next to Emiko, and opened a conversation, ascertaining that the Agateans were new in town.
The woman asked, apropos of nothing, if Emiko had found work yet.
Emiko shook her head.
"It is a concern and I have a daughter to care for." she admitted, indicating Erma. "I have resources sufficient for perhaps two months."
The woman had looked on in friendly concern. Then she had reached into her handbag and found a business card. Emiko glanced down and frowned.
Her new friend laughed.
"Yes, there is a brick in there." she admitted. "If you have room to get a good swing, it's amazing how you don't have a problem with thieves or robbers any more!"
They laughed together.
"Anyway, take this." she said, passing the card to Emiko.
Emiko looked at it curiously; it announced a Mrs Rosemary Palm, who was head of the Guild of Seamstresses, based on Sheer Street.
"Thank you for your kindness, Mrs Palm." Emiko said. The woman laughed.
"Oh, no, I'm not Mrs Palm." she said. "I only work for her. But we don't have too many Agatean ladies on the books at present. You'd be a smash hit!"
Emiko put the card away safely, and noticed her new friend got off outside a very ornate building in Sheer Street. Apparently, that was the base for the Seamstresses' Guild. Emiko shook her head in wonder. Sewing and fabric repairs paid that well?
Eventually, after what she suspected was a circuitous journey and not the direct route, they arrived on Clay Lane. Emiko soon located the shop that Mrs Lydia Dustbin had recommended to them.
She and Erma want into the Soon Shine Sun Shonky Shop. Emiko was reassured it appeared to be run by very familiar-looking monks, in saffron robes, and exchanged bows. She was even more pleased to discover at least one of them spoke Agatean like a native.
"Just arrived in town?" the older monk asked her, curiously.
"Six days ago." Emiko said. This is really our first serious trip into this City. There is much to learn about it."
"I've been here for a few decades." the old Monk commented. "Still learning. Auriental people, like you and me, you understand. But this lot?"
He sighed.
"Anyway. What can I do for you?"
"I require serviceable and reasonably good quality clothes, several changes, for myself and for my daughter." she said. "I have realized Agatean clothing on these streets is too conspicuous."
Mr Soon Shine Sun nodded understanding.
She's running from somebody or something and wants to be inconspicuous. To fade in. Still , can't be judgemental.
Emiko reached into the recesses of her clothing to locate her purse, and brought out several rhinu coins.
"I can pay cash." she said.
"That I can see." Soon Sun Shine said. "But forgive me, Emiko Yureimoto-san, why don't you go into a big store and buy from new?"
"I have learnt brand new clothes would stand out more in this city, when you wish to be un-remarked upon." she said. "Besides, I am seeking employment here, and I do not know how long it will be before I have a regular income. Therefore, I must make every coin stretch."
"I get that." Soon Sun Shine said. "I also get the clothing must be clean, and it must be fairly recently new. We do, in fact, do that. And all our clothing is laundered, and if necessary, deloused and fumigated, when it arrives."
He called to an assistant.
"Clothing for women and girls, of the second quality. Not the third or the fourth, the second. Got that?"
"Got that, sir." said the second saffron-robed monk. "This way, ladies?" They were shown racks and shelves of local clothing. Emiko inspected a jacket, curiously. She frowned at the unfamiliar fastenings and wondered how they, you know, did up. Erma was in her turn beginning to get excited about some of the more colourful dresses and skirts. Emiko smiled; she too was getting interested in the idea of seeing her daughter in something brightly coloured. Even if, given a couple of months, it might well spontaneously turn into a plain white shroud. Clothing tended to do that around Erma.
Then she tried to work out the logic of hooks and eyes, and buttons, again. They weren't unknown in Agatea. But she, Emiko, was entirely at home with the concepts of things like sashes, belts and laces.
She frowned, and wondered if there was a changing room, or something. "I'm guessing that you two ladies might need assistance?" a kindly female voice said.
Emiko turned. The woman was about forty, perhaps, although it was hard to tell as she wore clothing that was generally black, with a little white and some sort of head-dress that covered her hair.
I think I do, yes." Emiko admitted. The woman smiled, knifly.
"Noit too hard to work out." she said. "You're obviously from Agatea and all this is unfamiliar to you. Allow me to help? Smashing."
She turned to the young monk.
"Go and tell old Triple-Ess that this area is going to be off-limits for men for as long as it takes, would you? Smashing. What's your name, my lovely?"
"Her name is Erma." Emiko said.
The woman in black looked grave.
"Ah. You are apraxic and aphasic?" she asked Erma. Erma looked puzzled. The woman in black smiled, kindly.
"It's nicer than saying "Mute", you see. We see this in some pupils at the School, Mrs Yureimoto. We have experience."
"You have a school?" Emiko asked, politely.
"The Convent School of the Spiteful Sisters of Seven-Handed Sek." the woman explained. "I'm a Spiteful Sister. We run the School and do general good works, involving collecting and bringing old clothes to Triple-Ess to sell on. He shares the proceeds with us."
"Ah." Emiko said. You are a miko. I was confused. In Agatea, the miko normally wears white robes."
"The word here is nun, my dear." the woman said, beaming. "Now, strip off that kimono, would you, and the nagajuban underneath? If I can advise re foundation garments, never buy those from a shonky shop. Always from new. They're intimate and need to be properly sized, or it can get damned uncomfortable. And would you really want a second-hand bra next to your skin? Stick with your own, for now. Lovely. Now let's find you a good skirt..."
An hour and a half later, the friendly miko had delivered tuition about Morporkian womens' clothing and had helped select a selection of clothing for Emiko and Erma. Erma, delighted, was twirling in a dark red dress with a pattern in white.
"You can wear these out, I think." the miko said, giving them a critical inspection. If you want to blend in on these streets, this makes a start."
Emiko bowed her thanks, The unfamiliar clothing was slightly itchy and scratchy in a few places, but the miko had assured them the clothes were clean enough. "You're probably unfamiliar with things like waistbands. It'll wear off."
She had also given Emiko another calling card.
This one announced the giver as Sister Damnatio Eternaeum, Deputy Headmistress of the Convent School of Seven-Handed Sek.
"I was born as Mary Phibes." she said, shrugging. "But when you get the call to become a nun – well, a miko to you – you have to take a new name. You can pick from a book with brief biographies of great Sisters of the past, when things were a bit different."
She smiled, and shook Emiko's hand.
"I'm getting that you want to stay here permanently, if it all works out." she said. "In which case, the little girl will need a school. Bring her to us?"
She looked down shrewdly, to where Erma was now exploring the shop.
"We offer a general education to all girls between five and eighteen." Sister Eternal Damnation said. "That's all girls. We don't discriminate on any grounds. In the recent past, for instance, we've graduated a girl with a talent for Witchcraft."
She looked faraway for a moment.
"She's in Lancre now doing advanced training. Lovely girl. We also deal with pupils with varying degrees of what is indelicately and inaccurately called disability."
She looked at Erma again.
"There are so many things that come under the heading of mutism that it's probably inconsiderate to describe your daughter as mute." she remarked. "She seems to be perfectly capable of comprehension in two languages, for instance, Agatean and Morporkian."
"And others." Emiko said, with perfect honesty. (11)
"But bring her to us? We'd love to have her. Okay, if we're all done here, that's smashing. I'd say if you're laden with all this stuff, get a cab? Don't let the driver cheat you – the fair from here to Dimwell should not be more than sixty pence. Smashing. Triple Ess, the ladies are ready?"
"Not quite." said Soon Sun Shine.
He nodded down to where Erma had found a large stack of magazines, or perhaps paper publications. She settled on the floor and began reading the top one. Emiko frowmed, and read the title of the illustrated comic book from the top of the stack. It was in Agatean. The title, in Agatean, read Warrior Unicorn Princess.
"We get given all sorts of stuff." the old monk said. "All that came from a house clearance. Man who loved man-gi comics. To be honest, we were going to ask Dave Stamper if he was interested, and let him have it all for a notional few dollars. Just to clear space."
Emiko thought. Then she gave Soon Sun Shine a full half-rhinu. Erma looked up at her mother, then to the magazines, and then to her mother again. There was an appealingly pleading look on her face.
"I'll also take all the magazines." she said, decisively. "All the man-gi."
An interest should stop Erma straying at night. And she seems to have fallen in love with the Warrior Unicorn Princess. I can see it in her face...
"If there is change, Soon Sun-Shine-san, please give it to the esteemed Miko here for her charity work. Thank you."
A Watch patrol was passing down Clay Lane. It paid no heed to the smartly-dressed woman and girl loading clothing and tied bundles of magazines into the back of a taxi cab, and walked on.
Mollymog Street, Ankh-Morpork
Captain Olga Romanoff now knew a little bit more about Agatean supernatural entities. It was invaluable knowledge.
"Can I go now?" Rincewind asked, meekly.
"Yes." Olga said. "But remember you are doing a job for me too. Ask the Librarian and see what books he produces. Then bring them to me, at the Air Station. Got that? I'll also talk to Ponder Stibbons."
She nodded dismissal, and Rincewind gratefully departed. Olga was impressed at his speed of movement.
Dimwell, the flat above Mrs Lydia Dustbin's shop:
Emiko was pleased and impressed by the way Erma had absorbed herself into the magnificent and wonderful world of the Warrior Unicorn Princess. And there seemed to be a good two hundred comics there.
She smiled. Her daughter would be indoors with those for a long time. It took a worry off her mind and represented money well spent. It also meant she, Emiko, could have some private time. Emiko-time.
She contemplated the kitchen broom. After a while, she straddled it as she'd seen the local Witches do, and stood there like a complete fool from Kansai Prefecture, her new skirt elevating its hem to somewhere over her knees. She wondered what happened next.
Then she felt it. The energy filled Emiko Yureimoto, trembling from her hair to her toes. The broomstick vibrated. She thought "Up?" and had the wit to say "Stop!" in her mind as her head scraped the kitchen ceiling, dislodging a little plaster dust.
She spent a few minutes working out a strategy. This involved visualising commands like "Forward!" "Down!" "Left turn!" "Right turn!" and exulting in how the broom responded to them.
But it was still partial daylight outside. This might be best attempted by night?
She regretfully un-straddled the broomstick and returned it to its corner. It sat there, feeling alive in some indefinable way.
"Soon." she reassured it. "Very soon."
Another form of magic, this one Agatean, surfaced in her and she recalled the foxes in the alley. Again, she though, something for the night.
She busied herself preparing the evening meal for herself and Erma. It had been a busy day. And there was a busy night to come.
Closing here on nearly 10,000 words. Revision and maybe even expanded bits will follow. What is the significance of foxes? Who is the mystery Witch who, against accepted custom, refuses to identify herself to the Air Watch? What will Erma do next? Read on...
(1) Korupokguru (variant forms exist) are said to be a race of diminutive people who inhabited Northern Japan in a long-ago age, and may not completely have passed from these lands into the Shadow Realm on the other side of the Barrier Between The Worlds. Discovering Japan has Dwarfs. Lovely.
Revision on v0.03: thanks to Fionn the Otaku, who has raised the issue that "korupokguru" may only refer to what we call gnomes. I'll take another look at the folklore to see if there are definitely Japanese words for "dwarfs" as we know them here. Then come back and amend accordingly.
(2) It would never have occurred to Emiko to openly address him as anything other than Honourable Mr Dwarf Whose Social Status Is Clearly Above Mine. Clearly so, as he had a responsible position managing the omnibus. She and Erma were merely passengers.
Well, she did have a thought cross her mind: "Shibafu o kazaru tame ni shibafu no ue ni oka reru sōshoku-tekina zō" according to Google Translate, (and is this anything other than 100% accurate to native speakers) - means "Ornamental figure placed on a lawn so as to decorate it".
(3) Not THE Mrs Mangle, President of the Guild of Launderers. This was a younger relative.
(4) know that doesn't sound like very much, but in Ankh-Morpork, a typical wage might be a dollar a day (or less). Therefore a laundry load involving delicate silk is a fair bite out of a weekly wage. Laundry, in the time period reflected in the Discworld (roughly 1800 – 1920 in our world) would be a heavy physical laborious slog. I'll also have to check the relative value of the rhinu to the dollar – I suspect a quarter-rhinu paying for twelve lots of laundry is under-valuing it. Some very clever Discworld fans of an economist bent have actually investigated questions like this.
(5) Go to my tale The Price of Flight. Bethany and a friend had been signed up and given minimal training on the fly, in the manner of novice pilots in World War One, to go up and fight airborne elves. They'd had barely two hours of actual flight training, before they were thrown into battle. Both had survived this, and had been inducted properly into the Watch in Ankh-Morpork.
(6) The absolutely classic example of a translation of a Japanese manga/video game dialogue into approximate English. As people like Sam Williams might say, "the intention was good." apparently, the phrase comes out of the "Engrish" dub of the 1989 video game, Zero Wing. TV Tropes has a page with long screeds of the dialogue.
(7) Uniquely, he really HAD only invited her up to his rooms to see his etchings and scrolls. Although Emily was Witch enough to get this.
(8) In the Roundworld, the secretive and paranoid state of North Korea has its Embassy in London. Although... forget a Georgian mansion in Knightsbridge (France) or a purpose-built almost-a-fortress near the old Wandsworth nick (the USA). North Korea bought a suburban house in Ealing/South Acton. The neighbours are not greatly overjoyed. Ironically enough, a smaller London district called "Japan Green" is up the road and has a long-standing association with the Far East. Only... with a bit of the Far East that neither flavour of Korea likes very much.
(9) It had only belatedly occurred to Sam Williams that the usually reserved and formal Miss Pretty Butterfly had used the "-chan" suffix to him. He felt bucked up for a moment, then sighed and remembered School rumour had it that she was seeing a Wizzard. But, still. He was Sam-chan to his old teacher. That would do for now.
(10) All linen and related material, like jute, is made from plant fibres. Wood pulp can be treated and turned into a cellulose pulp that can be spun into fibre and then woven into fabric. If the original wood is, perhaps, the shavings, chippings, sawdust and miscellaneous bits of Sapient Pearwood from which a highly skilled craftsman has just constructed a Luggage, then the resulting fabric can make a very useful laundry bag, perhaps, or else be an unobtrusive inner lining to a leather coin-purse. Sapient Pearwood grows prolifically in Agatea and especially well on the other side of the Barrier in the Spirit-Realm. The most aggressive and vindictive sort of sapient pearwood is called jubokko in Agatean. (Terry Pratchett may not have been making it up... again)
(12) I get that Erma's apparent mutism in the webcomic is a lot more nuanced and complicated than "she cannot speak". It may be the case she chooses not to speak, or to speak seldom. She can laugh – and scream with rage when angry. A yokai skill also appears to be perfect comprehension of all human languages.
Notes Dump:-
Looking for Japanese words for "mummy", as a child might address her female parent. Without checking, I very nearly had Erma thinking of Emiko as ミイラ miira-san. This basically meant she'd be calling her mother "Esteemed embalmed corpse as to be found in Egypt".
There's a formal version, okaa-san (お母さん), meaning possibly "Esteemed Dearest Mother". There is also an informal "mummy", kaa-chan" (カーちゃん). The source also notes this can become "Kasan" in some dialects, and notes this is mainly to be found in Kansai prefecture. Other sources assert Kansai is the Japanese equivalent of Norfolk, the Ozarks, or Russia's Pskov Oblast – ie, somewhat rural and behind the cutting edge. (TV Tropes explains this in a page called "The Idiot from Osaka", Osaka being a city in Kansai).
Sophisticated Tokyo uses "haha" (母) while Tohoku says "kanbo" (かんぼ). So, lots to choose from!
Reply to PM from reader Ksandra Malan:
Thank you! My thoughts are about importing concepts from the Erma universe, like "The Barrier" between everyday human Japan and the Shadow Realm of the youkai. This is a point of contact between Agatean and Central Continent witchcraft: Olga Romanoff, who grew up with the concept of the Domovila, the House of the Dead, and its utility as a crossing point between worlds, will get it instantly. Other Witches who have seen the Dancers on Lancre or the Stones in the Chalk will also know, intuitively and instinctively, what Emiko means by a Torii Gate. (there will be at least one in Ankh-Morpork, possibly two, much to Olga's concern). If a Night Parade ever gets vectored through Ankh-Morpork, Vetinari will not be a happy Patrician. Nor will Sam Vimes be a happy Commander.
As with Erma the webcomic, little Erma's youkai grandparents will turn out to be very powerful leaders and Daimyos in the Shadow Realm, and capable of directing a lot of magical power if displeased.
I'm also just about to look up Fatal Frame, which is new to me, to read up more about the characters and the ideas.
Playing with words in Google Translate.
Japanese: shibafu no ue no kanshou you jinbutsu (芝生の上の観賞用人物) - "decorative feature to be found on a lawn", i.e., Dwarf.
Waisei, shou bitu: words for Dwarfs.
Also: Burakumin. What James Clavell called "eto" - the bogans, chavs, zefs, and general lower-class louts of Japan.
Trying to manipulate Google Translate to give a plausible translation for "Warrior Unicorn Princess" - the best it seems to be able to do is something like 戦士ユニコーンプリンセス, which is something like "senshi unicorn princess" - two of the words it isn't translating at all, just transliterating into Japanese characters. There has to be better out there? V0.03 - thanks to reader Geoff Watson, who suggested words like "himé" and "kirin" would fill in the gap for "princess" and "unicorn". Damn, I should have remembered the magnificent source which is TV Tropes concerning all things manga, animé and generally Japanese pop-culture - there is a whole page on a hairstyle called "himé cut", I used it before with regard to Miss Pretty Butterfly's hair...
PM's. Three asking about me or aspects of the writing I do; about fifteen which I suspect all originate with bots, from people who love my work and want to collaborate with me on illustrating it with AI (wonder what their price lists are?) and one from somebody who is insistent I should convert to their flavour of Christianity. (Have they READ my Good Omens stuff?)
When you follow through, there's either nothing on the person's profile page and they "joined" fairly recently, or else there's a redirect to an external website called Artstation. And they're all pretty much identical, with minor tweaks and variations.
All the "I hope you're doing well. I loved your story and was captivated from the start. I'd like to share some ideas I think you'll enjoy it." variations on a theme, that look as if they're generated by bot-things, are starting to get annoying, frankly. Is there any way it can be blocked?
Don't get me wrong; I would genuinely welcome real art inspired by my stories. I love the idea and I think I'd be genuinely flattered if anyone out there liked or loved my tales enough to want to illustrate them. This in fact happened once, with "Gap Year Adventures", and I was really chuffed. The dream is that somebody is so inspired by my writing to attempt to do a graphic novel. I'd try it myself, but I just do not have that degree of artistic talent.
But the ten or fifteen "offers" I've had that mainly seem to link back to this monetised AI program called "Artstation" - they all feel wrong, as if at some point I'm going to be asked for actual money, like some sort of vanity publishing. Just not interested in that.
I also love getting PMs and where time allows, I will engage with the sender and open a conversation. When they're legitimate, that is. But what feel like spamming bot-generated posts addressed to "Dear Author" and which look likely at some point to involve a cash invoice...