More Tales from the Guilds Ch. 01

"Wizards and witches always know when they will die," Havelock Vetinari proclaimed to his 'friend' Lady Margolotta, Ruler of Überwald, over dinner one evening, "unlike the 'Differently Alive' who mostly have no reason to believe that they ever will."

"Qvite so," she responded archly, "und your point is?"

"I'm just musing on the fact that while the Watch, the Assassins and nearly all the artisan guilds have incorporated our city's diverse population into their membership, for some reason the University has not."

"Und you are suggesting that they should? Do you really think that it vould be a good thing to have a magically trained vampire? Because if you are, I must express severe reservations. Ve have enough trouble maintaining the Black Ribbon as it is. You may not know this, Havelock, but not every Undead person succeeds in upholding their oath. Vithin the community there are alvays those who are unable to resist the appeal of an undervired nightie, especially vhen it is accompanied by flirtatious glances—as it often is! Believe me, ve do not relish having to hunt these veaklings down und—delete them from the population. But for the good of our respective realms, ve must."

The Patrician raised an ironic (and deadly) eyebrow. "Not know? Piffle. Of course I know and I regret the necessity as much as you do. However, the city's prosperity depends on everyone maximizing his or her own talent. Imagine how much poorer Ankh-Morpork would be if Of-the-Wheel-the-Spoke had been discouraged from developing his velocipede factory. Why, the contraption has become the rage all the way around the Circle Sea. He even came out with a reinforced model that shopkeepers in Howondaland can hardly keep on their shelves. Just yesterday I saw All Jolson riding one down Short Street on his way to his restaurant. Now there was a sight to cure depression! So if some vampire child were to suddenly start to make ping-pong balls and silk scarves appear out thin air, how else are we to proceed?"

Lady Margolotta glowered. "Havelock, in the unlikely event that such an individual appears, I must concede that probably Unseen University is the best place for him or her. However, the probability is very low. No vun among the Undead, to my long recollection, has ever shown any talent for magic so I think you are borrowing trouble. By the vay, mine vine glass is empty."

Before the Patrician could demonstrate his skill at being the perfect host, Drumknott appeared silently with a well-breathed bottle and refilled both glasses. Then, as is his want, he silently disappeared.

*****

Captain Salacia (several pages of name) von Humpeding ('Sally'), brevet commander of the Bonk City Watch (and vampire), looked at her young neighbor Manngang, shook her head and covered her eyes with her palm. After a few moments she raised her eyes to his mother who was glaring at her son. "How in the world . . ."

"I don' know," Manngang wailed piteously, "I was jus' thinkin' 'bout lunch and all of a sudden all these chickens appeared out of nowhere. I dint do nuffin'; I swear I dint."

"Manngang," the captain sighed, "you worked magic. Do you understand? Magic! No one in all the clans has ever worked magic before! And according to the wizards, if you do it once, you can't help doing it again. A magical werewolf? It's unheard of. It's—well, I would say it's impossible but it obviously isn't because you did it. But—but, how?"

"I don' knooooooowwwww . . ." the lad sobbed.

*****

"You wanted to see me, Archchancellor?"

"Yes, Stibbons, I do. And bolt the door behind y', wouldjer? This is a bit of business that doesn't need to get beyond you and me—at least f'r the present."

Now the Vice-Chancellor's curiosity was peaked. Ridcully rarely showed any indecisiveness about anything and even more rarely thought something should be kept under wraps so he closed the heavy, iron-bound oak door behind him and threw the bolt. He took a seat in front of the Archchancellor's desk-cum-billiard table, covered as it was with piles of unread missives, ignored demands for action and the occasional remnant of a beef sandwich. Moving a couple of piles to the side, he sat upright and waited for Ridcully's massive intellect to get lined up on the problem at hand.

"Stibbons, d'y'remember Nutt?"

"Of course, Archchancellor, how do you forget someone like that?"

"More import'ntly, d'y'remember the hush-hush nature of his comin' here and the official concern about him?"

Stibbons peeked around the various piles of documents and saw, sitting dead in front of the Archchancellor, a letter with a bold, strong hand and an envelope with broken black sealing wax and the imprint of a single V. Uh-oh. The Patrician seldom sent written communications and when he did someone was bound to be in trouble.

Ponder took a deep breath. "What are we in for, this time?"

"T' be blunt, Stibbons, a magical werewolf!"

"What? The Undea . . . uh, Differently Alive have never shown any magical ability, at all. How . . .?"

"That's not quite true, Stibbons. Back when you were still a student, there was a wizard named Wendell Poons who, for a while, was a zombie. Admittedly, he was a wizard before he was a zombie and this young chap was born a werewolf who has, somehow, acquired magical talent. But there is that precedent."

Stibbons sat back in his chair and sighed. "Can you tell me anything more?"

"Accordin' t'his Lordship, a werewolf youngster was sittin' out on one of the family town house balconies in Bonk and began thinkin' about what he would like for lunch. This bein' a family closely allied to Lady Margolotta, I should point out that his daydreams did not include either dwarves or humans. He didn't seem to have anything particular in mind, just that he was hungry and that noon was approachin'. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a half dozen fat hens appeared on the balcony with him and started peckin' his toes and cluckin' around. Since the lad is still a small child, he naturally screamed for his mother. She came out in a rush, got the story from him and immediately hauled him off to the local Watch house to explain himself to Captain von Humpeding. The captain couldn't figure out what else to do so she took both werewolves to see Lady Margolotta."

"Oh, that poor child!"

"Stibbons, Lady Margolotta was quite maternal to Nutt. Why believe that she would be any less so to a little pup werewolf? No, she got everyone calmed down and sent them home, probably with a lolly for the lad, and then clacksed Vetinari. The result—is this." He waved at the missive in front of him.

"Meaning that His Lordship had dropped the problem in our laps!"

"Y're a perceptive man, Stibbons, that's exactly what he's done. O'course, he worded it in very compliment'ry terms, alludin' to our centuries of experience dealin' with powerful children, includin' the occasional Sourcerer. So there is no honorable way we can turn it down. However, the fact remains that we are about to have a Differently Alive, potentially immortal, student wizard in our midst so it would be a good idea of we at least had a plan for dealin' with him."

"Uh, how old is the pup?"

"That's where it gets worse, Stibbons. He's eight!"

"Eight? Oh, gods. That's the age Eskarina Smith was when she arrived, and look at all the trouble that caused."

Ridcully silently pursed his lips and nodded slowly.

*****

Magdalene von Tirshland (Ironclaw) dabbed red eyes and took another sip from her refilled (several times) wine glass. It was an uncommon, almost unheard of display of distress for a werewolf, Lady Margolotta thought as she patted the younger female's arm.

"Darling, you know this is for the best. Poor little Manngang is already eight years old and had not Changed vunce. Vhile it is still possible that he may yet prove a proper bimorph, for now ve must accept the fact that he could very vell be a yennork, und you know vhat that could mean. There are, sadly, those reactionaries among the clans who vould kill the poor child in a heartbeat for that reason alone. He vill be safer in Ankh-Morpork und especially in Unseen University. I vill personally see that he travels in mine private rail car und the Low Qveen has promised a sqvad of her personal guards to keep him safe on the journey. Now, vipe your eyes and look on the bright side. Your two older children can stop vorrying about their younger brother, und go back to living normal lives among their own kind. Young Manngang vill learn how to control his talents und, vith any luck, settle down into a comfortable, safer life as a professor at UU. This really is the best thing that could happen for him."

A few more tears leaked down the mother's cheeks but she slowly nodded agreement. "It's just that he's so young! Little ones need mothering. Who will care for him at the University? Wizards are all men. I'm sure there are a few, and I've heard very good things about the Archchancellor, who could play grandfather to him but until he gets older . . ."

"Vell, there is at least vun female vizard on the faculty und there are all the staff Mrs. Whitlow oversees. Surely there must be a few grandmothers among them who can look out for a very young verepup. Think, Magdalene, he vill be safer. That is, sadly, more than can be said vhenever he is out of your sight here in Bonk."

Lady von Tirschland wiped her face one last time before sitting up straight and squaring her shoulders. Setting her jaw in determination she replied, "Yes, he will be safer!"

*****

"Go fish!" Manngang giggled as he laid down his cards on the ebony and ivory game table in Lady Margolotta's opulently fitted private rail car. The magnificent scenery of mountain and forest they rolled through was totally lost on the lad. When your home is Überwald, mountains and forests are the norm, not something to "Ooooo . . ." over. Card games, on the other hand were a rare luxury in a family of werewolves of a martial persuasion.

Alvys Thorinsdottar chuckled through her beard. "You play a tough game, Manngang. That's the third time in a row you've beaten me."

The Royal Guard smiled fondly at the child. He reminded her of several nephews she spoiled every Hogswatch, though one of them might be a niece. Her brother was a rather conservative dwarf who didn't hold with different genders. All dwarfs, in his opinion, were still 'he'. However, on this mission, he would have been wrong. Not only did the Low Queen provide a quartet of the tallest and broadest of her Praetorians, she made sure they were all female. Anyone tempted to try and rough up one small, male yennork was in for a bloody, painful (and very short) time. However, any such assault was unlikely. Lady Margolotta often traveled to Ankh-Morpork these days and since the entire matter of sending Manngang to the University was kept very discreet, the idea that her car might contain someone else probably wouldn't occur to anyone¹.

¹Anyone with a good sense of self-preservation, at least.

*****

"An eight-year-old boy werewolf. With magical talent. Archchancellor, surely this is some sort of strange joke?" Professor Emergent-Weatherwax hoped against all hope that she was right while knowing full well that she wasn't. The Archchancellor was renowned for having no sense of humor whatever and any joke he told was bound to be long, confusing and totally missing a punchline.

"No, Phoebe, it ain't. And he ain't just a werepup with magical talent. His first act was to conjure up a half dozen chickens because he was thinkin' about lunch. And he didn't mean to. I'm hopin' that he somehow wrapped the Disc's magical field around himself and pulled them out of some farmer's barnyard but I have a terrible feelin' that he inadvertently constructed 'em and you know what that could mean."

"A Sourcerer. But—but how? He's Differently Alive. None of them has ever shown any talent for magic at all and Sourcerers are eighth sons of eighth sons of . . ."

"Most Sourcerers have been. There's always the enigma of Simon. Hex says he was a Sourcerer and we don't think that he was a wizard squared. But there was no doubt'n the power of the man so who knows where another one could come from. But what I wantcher to keep in mind is that he's eight years old. He's a little boy fer all the gods' sake and he needs little boy treatment. Most of us are at least ten or twelve before sparks fly out've our fingers and set fire t'things. He's eight!"

"And called forth a half dozen fat hens because it was almost lunchtime. All right, Archchancellor, am I to presume that, as the faculty's sole woman, you want me to be especially close to him?"

"Not by yerself, Phoebe. I've advised Mrs. Whitlow of our new student, as well, but yer the only one who can, hopefully, contain his magical errors and possible pranks. At least the fact that his first magical act centered around a large luncheon suggests that his focus is in the right place for him to eventually become faculty!"

*****

Go Fish eventually gave way to Old Maid but eventually Manngang bored of cards and sat looking out the window at the passing scenery. By now the peaks and snowfields of Überwald had given way to the near-impenetrable² forests of Skund. The lad wasn't exactly hungry, per se, but his mouth was bored and something to chew on would be pleasant. It was when he stuck the jerky stick that appeared in one hand in his mouth and began to gnaw on it that he realized what he'd done—again!

²And strangely mobile!

"Aaah!" he screamed and threw it away.

With blinding speed, Alvys came across the car and had Manngang in one hand and her razor-sharp battle ax in the other. Looking around and seeing no threat she turned curiously to the werepup.

"What . . .?"

Manngang pointed at the slightly chewed jerky stick with shaking hand.

"I—I—I . . ."

"Oh," she breathed a sigh of relief, "were you hungry?"

"S—sort of."

"Well, it isn't quite time for dinner but would you like a biscuit to tide you over? Oatmeal raisin, maybe?"

"Yes, thank-you. And would you throw that thing away? I don't want to touch it."

Alvys handed him the biscuit, discarded the jerky stick and, at the next coal and water stop, clacksed the incident to Ankh-Morpork.

*****

"Magus allicit cibum?"

"Ook!"

Lladislav Pelc, Professor of Prehumous Bibliomancy and Vice-Librarian at Unseen University scratched his smooth chin (not being out in public, he left his false beard hanging in his office) as he thoughtfully regarded the entry the Librarian indicated.

"Interesting. I wondered what would happen when we put the Patrician's letter in the Bookfinder and what we got was something I've never heard of, Pencilnewt's Conspectus of Thaumaturgical Types. Magus allicit cibum, a wizard who attracts food. Well, I don't know why not. Certainly every wizard I know is attracted to food so why not the corollary?"

"Ook."

"And who'd have thought there were so many possible kinds of magic? Why there are enough odd types that we could triple the size of UU with sub-specialties. Hedge wizards³ I've long known about, though I've never met one. But a food magnet? By all the gods, one of those would be popular on the Council!"

³Hedge wizards are introspective gentlemen of an arboreal persuasion. If you invited one to a party, he'd spend half the evening talking to your potted plant—and the other half listening!

"Eep-eep", the Librarian snickered.

"No, Archchancellor Henry wasn't one! He went out his way to find things to eat. Waiting for an entire cold salmon to find him was never his style."

"Ook-ah."

"You're right. Just because we know such mages exist doesn't tell us what to do if an infant one shows up—especially one who happens to be a werewolf. The Archchancellor may congratulate us for finding this but I don't see how it's going to make his life any easier."

*****

The Atmosphere in Biers was, as usual, murky and dark. The Differently Alive needed a place where they could drop all disguises and attempts to 'fit it' and just be themselves. Biers was that place. Captain Angua wasn't really fond of the place but as 'the Community's' most prominent member it behooved her to maintain connections. So, as was her habit on slow evenings, she'd wondered in to show presence. As usual, Sgt. Littlebottom⁴ was at her elbow. The werewolf and the dwarf might seem to others to be an unlikely pair but circumstances and a shared sorority of the Watch had made them close friends.

⁴ who wasn't even wearing her silver vest

"The usual, ladies?" Igor the barman asked.

Both of the officers nodded. A chilled Chardonnay for Cheery and a fruit juice for Angua appeared on the bar.

"Beggin' your pardon, officers . . .", a very large, dark shadow appeared behind them. Any normal human would have at least jumped, probably screamed and possibly fainted dead away but this was Biers and as far as Angua and Cheery were concerned the bogeyman was just one more citizen. A very big and frightening citizen, to be sure, but just one more citizen.

"Yes, Rizikschrek?", Angua turned calmly and looked up⁵.

⁵ Way up!

The huge bogey cringed. He was always happier under a bed; being out where he could be seen made him uneasy, even in the dark pub.

" 've heard rumors, ma'am, 'n thought you oughta know? Word has it that a yennork from one of the progressive clans has gone missin'? 't's suspected that he ain't dead 'cause he's only eight and his mother ain't grievin' so the guess is that he might have bin sent to the city? 'Cause o' your sister⁶, I thought you'd want to know?"

⁶ Angua's sister Elsa was killed by her brother Wolfgang for being a human form yennork.

Angua's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I thought we were done with this stupid Überwölfen nonsense!"

"Weeeellll," the bogey cringed further, "I wouldn't go so far as to say Überwölfen, jus'—really traditional-like, maybe?"

"Killing an eight-year-old for not being a bimorph isn't 'traditional', Rizikschrek, it's vicious, even for us. The Watch thanks you for coming forth with this, and so do the rest of us, don't we?" Angua deliberately raised her voice for the last phrase.

"Yes, Captain Angua," the customers replied in chorus. Once upon a time there might have been resistance but over the years the Differently Alive had come to appreciate Angua's representation on the Watch. Today her word was as much law as the Patrician's, at least in this community. His mother would have been grateful to learn that Manngang had just acquired a pub-full of extra backs, backs that knew who might intend him harm.

*****

"Actu'lly, yer have made the situation easier, professors. Accordin' to Pencilnewt, food magnet wizards cause food to move through the ether to them. They don't, thank goodness, manufacture it out of nothin'. So young Manngang is just a student wizard and not a Sorcerer in trainin'. But notice I said 'easier', not easy. What he's doin' is basic'lly long distance theft. That, we've got to get him over."

Pelc nodded in agreement.

"Ook!"

*****

When the train finally pulled into Ankh-Morpork Station, Alvys and her three cohorts escorted Manngang out of the private car and up to the waiting University contingent.

"Hello, Manngang, I'm Professor Emergent-Weatherwax and this is Professor Barcbeadle. How do you do? And do you have any more luggage?"