Tales from the Guilds Ch. 14

⁶ The Lancre farmers figured that since they didn't go around telling the king how to wave at the crowd, ceremonially open bridges and all the other sort of 'king' things, he didn't need to tell them how to farm.

"Make a hotel out part of the castle? Why, no, I haven't. Does that sound like a good idea, dear?" he asked Magrat.

The queen thought it over. The Lancre gorge was deep, wild and very picturesque. If the wing of the castle overlooking it was repaired and reinforced, its view would be unmatched. How much would people pay to stay in a genuine royal castle with a spectacular view and Mrs. Cadwallader's meals? Ever since she'd been hired the cook had complained about the shortage of state dinners held in Lancre. She really wanted to show off and bossing a restaurant in a fine hotel? The woman would be in Heaven.

"It's a very interesting idea," Magrat said at length. "Verence, we need to think this over. There are possibilities."

"Indeed," Ridcully replied, "and since the rail service runs all the way here and the sort o'tourist who'd be stayin' here would naturally travel in first class cabins, the railroad would be only too happy t'advertise all the way along the line. More revenue all the way around."

"And more jobs for the citizens!" The king was visibly brightened. "An excellent suggestion, Archchancellor, we will research it."

*****

That evening, while sitting in front of a cheering blaze in one of the castle's many fireplaces, Ridcully heard a soft cough behind him. Turning around, he saw Prince Verence Tomjon standing politely.

"Archchancellor? I—may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, yer Highness. How may I assist y'?"

"Archchancellor," Verence Tomjon said hesitantly, "how does one get admitted to Unseen University? How much magic do you have to know?"

"Ah! Young sir, very many of our new students have only the slightest grasp o'magic and in most cases what they have accomplished was accidental. Settin' a bullyin' schoolmate's pants on fire or somethin' of that ilk is the usual. Knowin' that yer esteemed mother was a professional witch and confederate of Esme Weatherwax, I should guess that your skills might already be above that level. Here," he said as he reached for a candlestick, "d'yer think y'can make this light?"

"I—I think I can." Taking a deep breath, the youth cupped his hands around the top of the candle and concentrated. He imagined power flowingout of the land, up through his feet and out through his hands. Not too much power, though. He'd been asked to light the candle, not disintegrate it. Slowly he increased the flow until, with a pop, a flame appeared from the wick. With a sigh of relief, he lowered his hands and stepped back.

"Now that," Ridcully murmured, "was well done. Y've not only demonstrated that y' can make things happen magi'cly but that yer can control it. Magic is actually quite easy, far too easy. Keepin' in under control and only usin' the least amount for the task is what sep'rates a wizard or a witch from a smokin' corpse. So you want to be a wizard, do y'?"

"I—I very much do, Archchancellor. My older sister will rule and unless something dreadful happens to her I don't have any place in the kingdom. We haven't an army, aside from Shawn Ogg, the gods are serviced by the occasional wondering priest, the kingdom hasn't enough actual cash to warrant a bank so all I'm left with is Law or Academia. Every lawyer I've met? Well, they worry me. So if it's possible, I should like to become a wizard."

Ridcully withdrew a large carved pipe from somewhere in his robe and a tobacco pouch. He looked thoughtfully at the young prince as he packed the pipe and, with the most delicate tiny fireball, lit it. After a puff or two he nodded.

"As it turns out, I've a favor t'ask of yer parents, so I suspect that a mutually satisfact'ry arrangement can be made. They, or your sister, can in time take care of me and I'll shepherd y'back to Ankh-Morpork and enroll y'in Unseen. There'll be those who'll be a bit surprised y'aren't attendin' the Assassins' Guild School but I shouldn't let that bother me. Young Marquess Vimes-Ramkin is already a pupil so havin' a Royal as a student won't upset anyone. Y've a strong talent there, m'young sir, and Unseen will help y'prop'ly develop it."

*****

Epilogue:

Esmerelda Margaret Note Spelling I, Queen of Lancre, read the clacks message again and setting her youngest on his feet, turned to her consort. "My brother is on his way. I'll meet him on the roof."

She climbed many stairs to the top of the highest watch tower and looked to the horizon. Far, far away she saw a dark spot, growing as it neared. Verence Tomjon of Lancre, D. Thau, DM, D.MS (Unseen), Vice-Chancellor Elect, Praelector and Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic was approaching at speed. Esmerelda smiled. It had been a very long time since she'd seen him but this was no family reunion. We made a promise. We have a Duty!

Turning her gaze in a circle she mused that Lancre City had changed a great deal in the last decades. Once a tiny backwater of a country town, the coming of the railroad and the opening of the Royal Hostelry Hotel had turned it into a tourist hub, a destination for the rich and fashionable. And holiday seekers of slightly lesser means flocked to the pensions de famile and inns around the main square and out in the villages in the countryside 'round to enjoy the magnificent scenery. The Royal Bank of Ankh-Morpork had had to open a branch and a modest collection of guild halls fostered artisans and merchants. Lancre was, in its own eccentric way, booming.

Even the Smithy of Lancre now had a robust sideline forging decorative iron gates, balconies and shop signs. However, all of that came to a halt whenever a horse needed shoeing and it was understood that two nights a year a horse arrived for shoeing that never went to any other farrier and had been coming to Lancre for centuries.

The wizard's broomstick slowed and came to a halt with its rider at eye level with his sister.

"I brought it," Verence announced, "is the site ready?"

"Mm-hmm. Mother saw your first clacks and took off at once for Bad Ass. She wants to make sure that Geoffrey has everything ready."

"Is this to be a big deal?"

"Oh, no," the queen replied, "It's supposed to be just the four of us, though . . ."

Verence raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Though . . .?"

Esmerelda looked uncomfortable. "Well, I have this odd feeling that it might be five."

"Five?"

"Verence, you know how the monarch and the land are one? What I feel the kingdom feels and vice versa? I—I have this strange feeling that—She knows, that she's been waiting for this."

Verence Tomjon heaved a sigh. "That wouldn't surprise me. I wasn't going to tell you this but at the memorial, John Hix came to me and said that there seemed to be an unusual amount of activity in the Post-Mortem world. And it wasn't in the Wizards' Cabinet. It was more—general. Yes, I believe you. So we'd better be going. I don't think any delay would be a good idea. Ride with me? Or take your own?"

"I'll ride with you. My hands are shaking too badly to try and fly by myself. Oh, Verence, we knew this would eventually happen. And it's been years since you left for University. So why am I so upset? I hardly knew the man."

"She knew the man. And what the land feels, its queen feels. Esme, simply everyone was there! Naturally High Priest Hughnon led the memorial but not just the Patrician attended but the Low Queen? The Diamond King of Trolls? Lady Margolotta and a delegation of werewolf clan leaders? Chancellor-Elect Stibbons detailed me, of course, for this portion because it's our duty but Duke Samuel Vimes-Ramkin is riding in the funeral car to the Ridcully estates. This is—is more important than we ever imagined. Here, climb on in front. We need to hurry; I can feel it."

Lancre is a small principality and the distance between Lancre City and Bad Ass is short so it was only a few minutes' flight before they appeared over a small clearing in the forest near the village. As the broomstick slowed and came to a gentle landing in the glade a sudden silence fell over the entire area. Not so much as an insect buzzed as the pair settled down near the Queen Mother Magrat and the (male) Witch of Bad Ass—and the small, deep hole beside them.

Queen Esmerelda and Prince Verence Tomjon dismounted and gingerly carrying a small, iron-bound casket, walked over to their waiting mother. She held out her hands as tears trickled down her cheeks.

"The Archchancellor's heart," she whispered, "as we promised. Children, help me lower it into the grave and then Geoffrey can fill it in."

When the small casket reached the bottom and the first clods of dirt fell on top of it, the entire forest erupted in a chorus of birdsong. And on a black sand desert under a dark, starless sky, time fell away from two souls . . .

Mustrum?

Esme!

I bin waitin' for you, y'knows.

I couldn't come any sooner.

I knows that.

Shall I chase y', like in the old days?

Mm-hmm, an' maybe this time I'll even let y'catch me.