On a dark, bitter, winter's night in Ankh-Morpork when Captain Angua had nothing particular to do, she and Sergeant Littlebottom strolled into Biers, the favorite bar of the Differently Alive (AKA the Undead). The place momentarily went quiet at the sight of Watch uniforms but as soon as the clientele saw (or smelled) who the visitors were, the low-level commotion returned to normal. Normally, the pair would go to the bar, order drinks and find a table to sit and chat. Tonight, on the other hand, the door had no sooner closed behind them when Angua inhaled—and froze. Swiftly her eyes scanned the dim room until they came to rest on a tall, well-muscled, blond human figure who grinned at her and lifted a large, half-empty beer stein in salute. She stood there, gaping, her brows knotted in confusion while the man casually rose to his feet and ambled on over to her.
"Hi, sis," he drawled.
"Andrei?"
"That's me."
"
Andrei
? Andreeiiiiiii . . .!" The normally stern, taciturn Watch officer burst into tears and threw herself into her brother's arms. "Andrei! How? Why? What . . .?"
Cradling her in his arms, the tall man stroked her hair and murmured, "Angua, you were
there
when Professor Capstick figured out how to enable yennorks to become proper bimorphs. Once little Manngang could (with y0ur help) Change like his parents and siblings, Lady Margolotta made sure the word got out everywhere. No werewolf will ever again be permanently trapped in either human or lupine form and brutes like our rotten older brother won't have any excuse to bully any of us. The day Commander Vimes immolated him should be made a national holiday! Poor Elsa . . ."
Angua went from ecstatic to grim in the space of a breath. Poor Elsa, indeed. Her sister had been unimorph human, unable to become a wolf, and for that single reason her older brother Wolfgang had killed her. Andrei had been a lupine unimorph but had managed to escape, emigrating to Borogravia where he'd thrived as a champion sheepdog. Now, Wolfgang was dead, the loser in a hand-to-fang battle with Commander Sam Vimes of the Ankh-Morpork Watch. Good riddance, to him, she swore. And now, she once again had family.
"But what are you doing here?" Angua began before Cheery took both of them firmly by the wrist (and when a dwarf grasps you firmly, you are
grasped
) to lead them to a more private booth—and waved for the waiter. She told Rizikshrek the bogeyman to bring them another large beer, one chilled Chardonnay and a fruit juice and turned to Andrei.
"Okay, big boy, now you can finish the story!"
Andrei chuckled, "Well, I was resting in the shade after winning another trial when I heard someone whisper, 'Psst, Andrei.' It was a boogey hiding under a bench. He told me that Lady Margolotta had issued a decree to every one of the Differently Alive to spread the word about the yennork cure. There was a wizard in town who had read Professor Capstick's monograph and who had a 'friend' who would help. So a couple of days later I banged his door knocker. When he opened it he looked down, turned around and shouted, 'Hilda, it's another yennork!' and invited me in. Hilda Changed and trotted into the room and we made the appointment for the next full moon. The wizard measured me so that when I came back and Changed, they had a full set of clothes ready for me. Getting used to wearing clothing took a bit, I can tell you. Strange feeling, still, you know? Anyway, I went back to my 'handler', introduced him to my new form and let him know that since I had done all the work it was only fair that he should turn over to me half our earnings. Strangely enough, he was perfectly agreeable. It turned out that he'd taken our winnings and bought productive farms so getting a bank loan for half the amount I'd won was easy. I went to the bank, opened an account and then clacksed it to the Bank of Bonk-Überwald, got a train ticket and went home."
"Did—did you go back to . . .?"
"I did. Dad spends almost all his time in wolf form these days. I think he's getting really old. Mom was just beside herself with joy, seeing that I'm now a proper bimorph and we spend about a week catching up on family gossip. Anyway, that's when I found out that you were here so I caught another train and came for visit. I'll probably have to go back to Überwald and take over the estates in a year or so but right now I'm learning about bipedalism, opposable thumbs and color. Oh, and cooked food. It's interesting stuff and vegetables aren't half bad."
"I—I don't know what to say . . . "
Cheery rolled her eyes. "What you want to say is, 'Mr. Vimes, my younger brother just showed up unexpectedly and I'd like a couple of weeks off to show him the city', that's what you say. And then you say, 'Carrot, this is my little brother Andrei. Andrei, this is Carrot'. What else do you need to say?"
Angua had to admit that Cheery was probably right. After all, she was a dwarf and dwarfs were notoriously level-headed—when sober. So she stood up and announced in a loud voice, "Alright, everyone, this is my younger brother Andrei! He's here for a visit 'cause we haven't seen each other in years. So, in celebration, I'm buying a round for the house!"
As in any pub, an announcement like that is wildly popular and Igor the bartender was kept busy for the next quarter hour filling orders. There was the added advantage that once the cheering stopped, no one paid any attention to the three of them in the booth finishing their drinks and hardly any noticed when they left.
*****
Senior Sergeant Detritus and Corporal Menhir sat deeply engrossed over a chess board, their helmet fans turned up to 'High' ever though they sat in a foot of new snow. Neither moved for such a long time that a passerby might have thought them art works installed in Pseudopolis Yard, rather than Watchmen in good standing. Finally, Detritus sighed and knocked over his king.
"Well done, Menhir! I shall study dat gambit mos' carefully for der next time we play. While I prefers Thud, this are a most int'restin' game. I beliebe we should send a note ob thanks to der Diamond King ob Trolls for bringin' it to our attention."
He reached up and switched off the fan. The day being already plenty damned cold, as far as the human population was concerned, a troll's impure silicon brain needed no additional refrigerating except when faced with an intellectual challenge.
Menhir nodded politely and did the same. Neither commented on the steam that rose from their respective crania. Shortly, they would revert to being just-smarter-than-the-average-troll. This would be a relief. While the ability to play serious games of chess or ponder advanced mathematics was exciting, in the end it was a lot more comfortable bein' a reg'lar ol' troll.
Across town, though, Chrysoprase was sitting up on the roof of the Cavern Club with his helmet on High+. Having transferred the financial interests of the Guild of Bodyguards, Bouncers and Last Resort Lenders to 'property and financial services' intellectual acumen was no luxury. If the Guild was to maintain its position in the city, both he and his chief henchtrolls needed to be sharp all the time, not just when playing games.
He held up a dossier and flicked it idly with one finger. He'd just completed an analysis of where the money in the city was and where it went and the conclusion made him smile quietly to himself. One would expect the aristocratic families and the captains of industry and finance to be (figuratively) sitting on great piles of gold but unless there was something terribly wrong with his calculations (and he was sure there wasn't), the biggest pile in the city belonged to, of all people, the Beggars' Guild! Now there was a bunch you didn't want to be enemies with.
Chrysoprase hit a button on his desk and when the stairway door opened, he turned in his swivel chair. "Basalt, come here. I hab a task for you."
"At once, Mr. Chrysoprase. What does youse require?"
"I want you to, p'litely and respec'fully, go fine one ob der Beggars an' enquire as to der possibility ob my meetin' wif Queen Molly. I'm sure der is some way our respectif interes's can be serbed by an alliance."
Basalt was taken aback. "Der Beggars, Mr. Chrysoprase? What commonality could we possibly has wif dem?"
