More Tales from the Guilds Ch. 02

⁷Not that she needed the practice, let it be understood. Perhaps 'experiment' is a better term.

"I Have Inspected The Proposed Embassy, Miss Arachne," Mr. Pump rumbled, "There Do Not Appear To Be Any Excessive Listening Points."

"Oh, good. That means that there will only be a few for us to monitor. We will, of course, need to keep constant watch lest any new ones be built. The Agatean intelligence gathering in Ankh-Morpork has some semblance of subtlety so we certainly can't dismiss them. Besides, it's always, as His Lordship says, a good idea to let one's enemies (or potential enemies) know what we want them to think we're thinking."

"This Is True, Though It Was A Difficult Concept For Me To Comprehend. I Now Understand The Utility Of Concealing One's Thoughts When The Occasion Arises."

Arachne gave the golem's hip a pat. She'd normally have patted its ceramic shoulder but since 'he' was eight feet tall and she barely five, the hip was an easier reach. "Good job, old pot. You learn even without changes in your chem. And we have a lot to learn about this place."

*****

Comrade Sung entered his private quarters, removed the false buck teeth and hayseed wig before changing into a robe suitable for an aristocrat of the previous generation. He sat in his audience chair and nodded for the butler to admit his first visitor.

A black clad young woman drifted across the floor and the kowtowed before him.

"What report?" Sung asked.

"My Lord Comrade," she began, "Comrade Hong has been dispatched and the other three all suspect each other in turn. Of course, with the ninja also dead, there is no way any of them will know the real, uh, author is."

"Excellent. Your usual fee is waiting at the bursar's. You may leave."

Once she was gone, Sung availed himself of the teapot sitting next to his chair. He had no fear of poisoning here in his home. Not only were all the staff descendants of descendants of retainers but all their relatives were hostages. And the rest of the Five Revolutionary Families all regarded him as a Useful Idiot, too useful to be killed (at least at present). It was a strong position. It would be even stronger if somehow he could acquire Madame Butterfly as his concubine but that was unlikely. No, the current plan for her eventual demise was doubtless the more fruitful one. A pity, too. The woman was very comely. Fortunately, comely women were not in short supply. He rang a bell. Some affectionate companionship before dinner seemed appropriate.

After dinner, Sung once again took out The Art of the Scheme he'd surreptitiously acquired from the late Comrade Hong. While Hong himself had been a self-important fool, his late father had been a genius at—well, nearly everything. However, it was in being an evil overlord that he truly excelled and, as evil overlords are wont to do, he loved to brag about it. However, instead of bragging to others, he'd bragged to himself in his journal. This kept him safe from Heroes (and rival villains) and formed a splendid textbook on the art of malice. And Sung was an avid pupil. He turned to the chapter "On the Elimination of Competitors" and began to read.

*****

"But Archchancellor, I'm quite content inside Unseen. I don't have any need to go out. Besides, if I do, something dreadful will happen to me. I know. It always does."

"Professor Rincewind," Ridcully growled, "when an attractive lady of political importance in the city invites yer over for supper, it's wackin' bad manners to refuse t'go. Besides, I've been given t'understand that the two of you are acquainted and went through some interestin' times together. That increases the social obligation.

Addition'ly, she's promised t'give a tutorial on Agatean cookin' to the University staff and the rest of the faculty are lookin' forward to the results with great anticipation. So not to put too fine a point on things, if yer afraid of dreadful things happenin' if yer leave the University, imagine how dreadful things could get if yer don't! I, for one, would hate to have Archchancellor Henry's thwarted appetite dreamin' up revenge if my own thaumaturgical defenses were, as I hate t'point out, somewhat deficient. Now fer the gods' sake, man, all she wants is yer company at supper next Octaday. I've already advised Mrs. Whitlow thatcher need a new robe. Yer can keep yer hat but yer can't go t'the Counterweight Palace lookin' like a member in good standin' of the Beggars' Guild so getcher self down t'her quarters. Yer goin' t'lunch with Madame Lotus Blossom and yer goin' t'be properly dressed. Now, get on with it!"

Trembling with anxiety, Rincewind left the Archchancellor's office and made his way down to Mrs. Whitlow's grace-and-favor apartment and knocked timidly on the door. During most of his previous life, when unwanted activities starred him in the face, he'd have just turned on a dime and run hell bent for leather away. But now there was no place to run to and the place he'd be running from was where he wanted to stay. He raised his hand to knock a second time just as the door opened to reveal the buxom form of Mrs. Whitlow. She had an apron on with scissors, needle, thread, pincushion and all the other tools a tailor needs and a bolt of deep scarlet cloth under one arm.

"Ah, Professor Rincewind. You're right on time. Just step in here and let me take a few measurements. Then you can sit down with a teapot and biscuit tin and I'll have you all ready for your formal visit to the Agatean Palace within the hour."

Relieved to find that he would be drinking his tea and eating a biscuit behind a screen, Rincewind surrendered his worn robe and hat (very reluctantly) to the tittering young needlewomen who clustered around Mrs. Whitlow. He peeked around the edge of the screen to see them all taking measurements from his robe, cutting pieces to fit and then assembling the bits on one of the new 'putting-cloth-together-with-a-moving-needle machines'⁸. In short order it was assembled and sequin-decorated as befitted UU's Egregious Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography. The new hat even had two 'z's' in Wizzard.

⁸ Another of Leonard of Quirm's brilliant, but unfortunately named, inventions.

But before he could don the fetching new wardrobe, Mrs. Whitlow whisked him into a chair, wrapped his face in steaming towels and neatened up his tonsorial dishevelment. One of her assistants helped the 'customer' into his new finery and the trembling wizard (Honorary degree!) looked into the full length mirror and shuddered.

"Oh, no, this is too good," he moaned, "Nothing this good ever happens to me without something absolutely terrible right behind it. I'll be lucky to live long enough to get to the Agatean Palace and back. Stercus, stercus, stercus, hoc tempore, ego realiter iens mori!⁹"

⁹ Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, this time I'm really going to die!

Mrs. Whitlow pursed her lips in exasperation. "Professor, Madame Lotus Blossom knows you and your—tendencies, shall we say? She has taken all possible precautions to make sure your visit is safe and happy."

"Mrs. Whitlow," Rincewind sighed, "the multiverse has impossible ways of getting me. And I'm terribly afraid this time it will succeed."

*****

High up at the summit of Cori Celesti, center of the Disc, lies Dunmanifestin, the home of the gods—or at least those gods who have secured enough belief among the 'mortal' inhabitants of the Disc to afford the 'best address'¹⁰. And in the center of Dunmanifestin lies the Game Board where the gods play endless games involving their believers. Note that the phrase is 'believers' not worshipers. For among the various accepted, worshiped, deified personages are two who no sensible human (dwarf, goblin, troll, etc.) would consider actually worshiping. But nearly all sentient species believe in them—and they are mortal enemies!

¹⁰ The Disc has around 3000 known gods but most of them are tied down to very small locations where they either have too few worshipers to achieve any status worth talking about or are nothing more than an echo of their previous godhood because no one believes in them anymore.

Fate scowled. Once again The Lady was sitting opposite him at The Board and all the other gods were clustered around in happy anticipation of a genuinely massive row. They still spoke in snickering chatter about the time she'd brought down the Agatean Empire with nothing but butterflies despite his having all the advantages. And once again she'd put that dratted Rincewind on the Board.

"Another round of Mighty Empires?" The Lady asked sweetly, "It would give you a chance to even things up."

Fate closed his eyes¹¹ and gritted his teeth. If he refused, he would be acknowledging defeat without the play ever starting. Losing was hard but conceding defeat before the game began? Never!

¹¹ If that was what they were. From close up they seemed more like holes into the vastness of space with swirling galaxies instead of a pupil.

"If you wish. But this time, no butterflies! And I move first."

"If you insist," The Lady shrugged, "no butterflies it is."

*****

In the Life Timer Library, amid the continuous pop of lives beginning and ending, a quiet 'ping' caught Death's attention.

WHAT? RINCEWIND AGAIN? OH, BUGGER.

Death picked up the Life Timer and shook his head. What should have been an hourglass looked more like an immersed Klein bottle blown by a glass artist with the hiccups. The seven-foot skeleton sighed and put it back up on the shelf. He had this terrible feeling that just possibly the world's worst wizard was an Immortal. Perhaps, instead of the Hero With a Thousand Faces, Rincewind was the Coward With a Thousand Backs. In any case, there was no point in saddling up Binky.

*****

As Rincewind cracked the great octiron doors of Unseen University and peeked out. He saw, to his dismay, a pair of craggy trolls.

"Professor Rincewind?" one of them rumbled, "We is Outcrop and Bluff from der Guild of Bodyguards, Bouncers and Last Resort Lenders. Der Dragon Lady, I means Madame Lotus Blossom has hired us to excort youz to her resty-rant and to makes sure dat nuffin un-two-ward happen to youz whilst we iz strollin' dere 'n back."

Rincewind's eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. He was about to shut the door and go hide in the Library when Ponder Stibbons, the Vice-Chancellor, came up behind him.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Professor? As you can see, Madame Lotus Blossom has taken every possible precaution to ensure your safety. Now, stop this silly quaking in your pointy toed shoes and go visit the lady. The rest of us are licking our lips in anticipation. Why, the Senior Wrangler is even practicing with those funny sticks the Agateans eat with to enhance his experience. Go!"

His face a grimace of dread, Rincewind commended his soul to any god who could find it and left the (until now) safe confines of UU. Outcrop and Bluff fell in with him, knuckling on either side and casting hostile looks at anyone who came within club's reach.¹²

¹² Given the normal crowding of Ankh-Morpork's streets, this caused considerable inconvenience to other pedestrians. Needless to say, none of them complained!

*****

In the secure inner office of the Ankh-Morpork embassy in Hunghung, Arachne unpacked her special luggage for the new ambassador's inspection. Accumulata was horrified. Never in her life had she encountered such a ghastly collection of spiders, centipedes and scorpions. And the worst part was that her 'clerk' was cooing with pride and affection over the lot.

"And you say that these are Guild approved?" Accumulata quavered.

"For a given value of approval," Arachne assured her, "and absolutely never in the course of a private contract. These are 'For Official Use Only.' Normally, I would need His Lordship's direct approval but since that is weeks by ship and we lack clacks connection (so far) I have pre-authorization for a limited number of cases."

"But how? I mean, I understand using these venoms on needles or dart tips but alive?"

Arachne smirked. "Well, when I was out in 4X investigating these, I found a native X-ian who told me about an ancient technique that they used to use on each other in the event of blood feud. Skipping the details, which are rather complex, these little darlings can be made to hunt down and deliberately bite your 'client'. Of course, the Guild would never condone it for normal inhumations but this is government work. The rules are different."

"The. Rules. Are. Different."

"Exactly. It's bang alongside His Lordship's view of democracy. One man, one vote. Vetinari is The Man and he has The Vote. Now your job is to find out from Madame Butterfly who is most likely to interfere with Agatean/Ankh-Morpork trade and mine is to make sure they never do. Any other questions?"

"N—no. I strongly suspect that I can accomplish my end of the mission and I have no doubt you can accomplish yours. So I guess we'd better get to work."

*****

Blodwen Rhysdottir, Low Queen of the Dwarves, settled herself into her chair. Unlike the chairs back in Bonk, this one lifted her head to the same level as Havelock Vetinari, Lady Margolotta, and Mr. Shine, rightful and indisputable king of the trolls, (who out of a concern for diplomacy, sat on the floor). She lifted the pint of bitters His Lordship provided for her, took a quaff and delicately wiped her beard with a satisfied sigh.

"Well, your lordship, I don't normally approve of remote assassination, but if it keeps the Agateans from dreaming about invasion, I'm all for it."

"I'm sure," rumbled Mr. Shine from the depths of his dark, hooded robe, "that if they did we allied species could defeat them. They would, after all, be at the wrong end of a ten-thousand-mile supply line. You would think that even the late Lord Hong would know better than to get bogged down in a land war in the Sto Plains but according to his personal notes, the would-be usurper actually intended to do just that. Fortunately, Genghis Cohen put a stop to it."

"He vass deranged," Lady Margolotta shook her head in disgust, "The Agateans are no sailors and to get here overland? Vith an army large enough to take Ankh-Morpork? Impossible!"

Vetinari steepled his fingers and looked over the tops of them. "I am not so sure. We have very little knowledge of the Agatean's magical capacity but their mountains hold vast reserves of octiron. One must never take unnecessary chances. Fortunately, Hong is no longer around to bother us. On the other hand, there are rumors that the current generation of the Five Noble Families still holds imperial ambitions. While Madame Butterfly is no particular admirer of the outside world, she at least holds no dreams of conquest. It is in our interests, I believe, to make sure she remains in power. And that can mean providing her with surreptitious protection."

"And you believe the Lavish woman can do that?" the Low Queen raised a skeptical¹³ eyebrow.

¹³ And very bushy

"Perhaps, perhaps not. However, I sent with her one of my Clerks. She had just returned from 4X and this seemed like a good use for what she learned there."

"My vord," Lady Margolotta exclaimed, "you sent Arachne vith her? Vunce she is finished, Madame Butterfly vill be lucky if she hass any population left to govern!"

The Patrician waved his hand dismissively. "An exaggeration. Arachne is, indeed, very skilled and efficient but she is also very professional. I have utmost confidence in her restraint."

*****

Comrade Sung read and reread The Art of the Scheme, taking notes each time he ran through it. Eventually he hit upon a fatal flaw in the monograph. Lord Hong intended to assassinate a dotard emperor in his bed and have the People's Red Army take the blame. Then he would arrest all those gullible fools, lob off their heads and proclaim himself emperor. Today's world was different.

First, there was no People's Red Army. The Beneficent Republic made a great show of being all for The People and there simply wasn't any group of ill-contents who could be organized to take their place. It was most vexing. Whether the peasants really were benefitting under the new regime was beside the point. Without a collection of rabble ready and waiting to surge forward at the word of a carefully chosen Useful Idiot of a demagogue, all the plotting and conniving were vapor.

Secondly, Madame Butterfly was leagues away from feeble dotage. The wretched woman still regularly exercised at Dai Schwee¹⁴ and it was well known that she could easily stove in a man's face with her heel—while flying through the air! And, there was that immense guard at her bedroom door. He was generally believed to have the IQ of an ice cube but he was devoted to his Chairman and had the muscles of an ox and the reflexes of an angry leopard. Storming the Chairman's bedroom with a handful of unskilled peasants was out of the question.

¹⁴ Tai chi, the Roundworld equivalent, is normally thought of as a gentle exercise for the elderly. However, the same movements, speeded up, make for a martial art no sensible person wants to face. Be polite to venerable grandparents!

On the other hand, Hong had also intended to see that Lord Fang was blamed for the coup. Now that part of the manual was more useful. Comrades Fang, Tang and McSweeney were already maneuvering behind each other's backs. Encouraging each to remove another would level the playing field before Sung was ready to make his move against the Chairman. He returned to the chapter, "On the Disposal of Rivals" and rang his bell for more tea.

*****

Chairman Butterfly sat immobile, her face an impassive mask of patient boredom. Comrade Tang was about fifteen minutes into a rant exalting the People's Beneficent Republic and looked to have at least another half hour to go. Without moving any other muscles, she cast her eyes around the table of the Central Committee. Comrades Fang and McSweeney had fixed their faces into approving smiles and nodded at almost perfectly timed intervals while Comrade Sung's face was set in its usual idiotic grin. However, careful but surreptitious observation of his eye movements revealed a man who had started something and was waiting for its climax.

When Tang finally came to the end of his harangue, he sat down with the look of a man who believes he has done a job well, took a sip of his tea, let out an agonized scream and fell dead. At once Fang and McSweeney leapt to their feet and began furiously denouncing each other as assassins and traitors. Comrade Sung, on the other hand, sat opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, his usual foolish look even more pronounced than usual. Madame Butterfly shook her head despairingly as members of the People's Magnanimous Constabulary hauled the two men away.

*****

Back in his quarters an Unseen University, Rincewind peered out at his room from beneath his bed. He wasn't sure it was the safest place to be but at least if the ceiling fell in on him, he'd have the mattress above him to take the blow. And thus far, nothing terrible had happened to him. The trolls had gotten him to the Agatean Palace and up the stairs to Madame Lotus Blossom's private apartment. She'd flirted with him mildly and fed him an assortment of truly exceptional tidbits. Then, after pleasantly gossiping with him (and getting an earful of stories about the faculty at UU) she'd kissed him lightly on the cheek and sent him home,¹⁵ once more guarded by Bluff and Outcrop until he was safe behind the university's walls. It was all very strange.