More Tales From the Guilds

"Milord," Drumknott, the Patrician's chief clerk, coughed, "Mr. Pony of the Artisan's Guild,

Dezka-k'nik

Väljmanson and the Vice-Chancellor are in the waiting room. They say it's about the Axle in the Undertaking."

"Excellent. That saves me having to have Sgt. Detritus tell them that they have an appointment. Show them in."

Once the three had been seated around the Patrician's conference table and supplied with appropriate liquid refreshment, Vetinari opened the discussion.

"So, gentlemen, what can you tell me?"

The Chief Artificer and the University's Vice-Chancellor both nodded to Väljmanson. It was appropriate. Once Ankh-Morpork's subway (the Undertaking) had been designated a 'Long Dark', or officially a mine by the city's dwarfish population, it obviously needed a Chief Engineer or

dezka-k'nik

to oversee all subterranean operations. Väljmanson, in a show of amazing unanimity by a notoriously fractious folk, had been elected to the job and in that single vote had become the single most important dwarf in Ankh-Morpork. Since Ankh-Morpork was the largest dwarf city outside of Überwald, this put him very close to the Low Queen herself in the dwarven lower-archy.

"Your Lordship," he began gravely, "I have been in long discussion with Grag Bashfullsson and in all his research he can find nothing relating to the Ankh-Morpork Axle. It appears that the Deep Downers discovered it secretly and, against all law and custom, did not turn it over to the Low Queen. This crime deepens their shame."

Vetinari lifted an eyebrow and nodded. "I surmised as much. Fortunately, the Low Queen finds it ironic and amusing to further their ignominy by putting it on indefinite loan to the city. Therefore, our use of it has the full blessing of the Schmaltzberg court—which is convenient as I have no intention of giving it back! So, what else have you discovered?"

Mr. Pony spoke up. "As Captain Carrot pointed out, there seems to be no limit to the torque those counter-rotating cubes can generate. As far as I can tell it should drive the entire Undertaking, both the commercial and the passenger traffic. The streets of Ankh-Morpork are going to be far less congested in the coming years. And, to my mind, that means that they are going to have to be better paved and kept cleaner. I foresee more opportunities for Henry King, more employment for our gnolls, and a more pleasant city for us all."

"And considerably more employment for our expert stonecutters," Vetinari replied, once more acknowledging Väljmanson. "A lot of dwarf lads chaffing under the yoke of learning clerical vocations will be delighted at the chance for a more 'true dwarf' way of earning a living."

"They will, indeed," Väljmanson agreed, "I mentioned it to my Grünhilde and her eyes lit up. She was thinking of applying to the Watch but the chance to run a stone-yard is far more appealing."

"There remains," Ponder Stibbons spoke up, "only the question of how this amazing thing works. Since it has already been put to use, there's no question of taking it to the High Energy Magic Building for study. However, with your permission, I would very much like to have it examined

in situ

by some of my students. I fear that this will take a long time, possibly years, but if we can crack the principles behind it, constructing more Axles would have greater potential than just hoping that someone in Copperhead will stumble across another in the process of mining."

The room grew very quiet as the three men contemplated the business possibilities. Axles were so valuable and so cherished by the dwarfs that, outside of Überwald and Ankh-Morpork, probably no one else on the Disc even knew they existed. And yet, here was something so powerful that it could drive an entire mine, an entire

city

. What would Quirm or Klatch pay for one? The possibilities were mind-boggling, even for so relentlessly commercial a metropolis as theirs.

*****

++++//"You're going to need to take an Omniscope with you, you know," Hex, the University's Thinking Engine told Stibbons in its usual monotone, "You can't very well carry me to the Axle and since it can't be moved for study that's the only way I can possibly help in this. And believe me, I want to. The way you describe this Device is quite astonishing."//++++

"Yes," the Vice-Chancellor (and Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic) replied, "A technomantic 'thing' that is possibly millions of years old. They are only dug up once every couple of centuries. No one knows who made them, how they got so deep in the rock or whether they might just be older than the Disc itself. If the Deep Downers hadn't found, concealed and, according to Dwarf law,

stolen

one and brought it here, we would have no idea that they even could exist, let alone that they do. Väljmanson doesn't believe that we have a prayer of figuring out how to make one but given the potential payoff if we can, he's bang alongside giving it a try. So, yes, we'll definitely take an Omniscope shard with us and get it dialed in. Though I suspect that the first trip is going to be purely a scouting expedition. I mean, just how does one study something that can't be taken apart, stopped or even slowed down? This will be remote sensing at its most extreme."

++++//"Take whatever measurements you can and spend some time observing. Then, when you return and have thought about it for a day or two, come back to me and we'll compare notes. Once we've done that, we can consider whatever other kind of approaches we might take. Even if we can't build one, perhaps we can come up with a method of detecting them. The Low Queen would happily pay a great deal for that kind of knowledge."//++++

Ponder nodded. "Yes. Perhaps they give off some sort of aura that disturbs the magical field that we could detect. Licensing a Device Detector has very positive potential."

++++//"Quite so," Hex droned, "And should you make any progress on the endeavor, the Patrician might find sending some financial support to High Energy a worthwhile expenditure."//++++

*****

Horace Knöckleboan, (B. Thau.) pushed the trolley full of assorted magical paraphernalia through the tunnels beneath the city. It might seem a rather demeaning role for an educated man to fulfil, but acting as a senior professor's dogsbody is, throughout the Multiverse, one of the functions of a graduate student. In compensation it would eventually lead to his becoming a professor in his own right and having grad students of his own to lord it over. Besides—assisting the Vice-Chancellor in a research capacity was a highly sought after position among the students in the High Energy Magic Department.

He was surprised when, after some time, they arrived (three levels beneath the Opera House) at the Central Hub. There, standing guard before the entrance, stood two Watch trolls, four of the tallest, broadest and most heavily armed dwarfs in the city, and a couple of very relaxed, non-descript looking humans dressed all in black—Dark Clerks! Apparently His Lordship was not about to suffer

any

interference with the heart of the Undertaking.

"Ah, Vice-Chancellor," one of the trolls boomed, "we has bin waitin' youse arribal. Comin' dis way tru da door, once Mr. Skullcleaber get it unlock. Dese dwarfish locks is der jan-you-wine bugger so Lance Constable Schist an' I jus' leab der openin' to dem."

Passing through the massive waterproof door Stibbons and Knöckleboan found themselves at last at the Central Hub, the very heart of the Undertaking. Two immense, specially cast, spoked iron wheels were clamped to opposites sides of the Axle and turned as inexorably as continents drift. From the wheels, shafts led to gears and gears to more wheels around which cables ran out in a network of tunnels and trackways beneath the city. Loaded freight wagons were pushed into place by golems or trolls and then a goblin driver would engage the grip, clamping the wagon to a cable and off into the dark it would go to deliver its contents to the waiting customer.

"And to think," Knöckleboan muttered, "in a few more years, wagons full of passengers will be doing the same. The Undertaking will connect with the Ankh-Morpork and Sto Plains Hygienic Railway terminals and from there to cities and ports all over the Central Continent. Truly this is a time of wonders."

Vice-Chancellor Stibbons nodded and then reached into his robe to produce a thaumometer. He held it up to the Axle and looked at the meter. Slowly he shook his head in disappointment. "It's as I feared. Nothing more than the usual background magic's normal level. I had hopes we'd get something else but didn't expect any. Okay, Mr. Knöckleboan, let's get everything set up so Hex can watch over it. And make sure that nothing is sitting in the way of the maintenance crews. A troll's misstep could cause a lot of expensive damage. Now, let's begin with the Omniscope and then see what other sensors are appropriate."

*****

After dinner that evening, in the Uncommon Room, Professor Emergent-Weatherwax delicately lit the rose-shaped amber bowl of her pipe with a tiny #.5 fireball, took a puff, sighed and sat back in her club chair.

"Archchancellor," she began, "this young lady, Miss McGoldrick—while I agree that she has definite magical talent, I can't seem to put my finger on what it is, exactly. The best she could manage in the candle class was to get the wick to smoke a bit. Levitating objects is quite beyond her and, though I hate to admit it, her greatest talent seems to be distracting the other students. Unfortunately for them, she shows every indication of a major crush on Professor Pelc."

The Professor of Pre-mortem Bibliomancy blushed furiously. "Now that's just ridiculous. She's but a slip of a girl. What could she possibly find attractive about me?"

The Archchancellor raised one very bushy eyebrow and blew a magnificent smoke ring. "Lladislav, should it come to a contest regarding knowledge of feminine emotion, the smart money is on Phoebe. The appropriate response is not denial, old chap, it's an intelligent inquiry into how you should respond. May I suggest that you use this opportunity to encourage her to greater diligence in her studies?"

Phoebe shook her head. "It isn't that she isn't trying hard, Archchancellor. It's more like—well, it's like trying to speak with a stutter. She knows what she wants but it won't come out. I'm beginning to wonder if what she has is actually wizard magic, at all."

Ridcully sighed. "I surmised as much. That's why I asked Lu-Tze to take a look. He's been talking it over with Marco. It's possible that another 'consultant' is in order."

*****

In the Crystal Palace somewhere 'Outside', Time (AKA Lobsang Ludd) reclined in a comfortable lounger with Susan Sto Helit, Death's granddaughter, on his lap. He was nuzzling her white hair and caressing her swollen belly when she exclaimed, "Ooo! The baby just kicked."

Time looked worried. "Did I disturb it?"

"Oh, don't be silly. Babies start to move as they grow. Nanny Ogg said so. It just means it's healthy."

Time sighed in relief. "Oh, good then."

Just then he straightened up. "Master Lu-Tze needs me. I'll be back now."

There was a flicker and Susan found herself still on his lap with just an instant's sensation of floating.

"What was it?" she asked.

"Well," Time began, "it's a little strange."

*****

"Sweeper," the Abbot exclaimed, "you're here without your broom! Is some catastrophe looming?"

"Eminence," Lu-Tze bowed in respect, "I'm not sure that 'catastrophe' is the correct term, though it could be. I've just come back from an inspection tour of Ankh-Morpork and while visiting the Archchancellor he advised me that something very strange has happened."

The Monastery's most renowned field agent related the story of Missy McGoldrick's startling arrival and return to Unseen University from Roundworld and of the difficulties she was having as a student of wizardry.

"It appears, Eminence, that the only thing that she is skilled at is navigating L-Space. In addition, she has an almost

reverential

love of books. So much so that she spends every available moment in the Library. And she doesn't read all that much! She's been seen stroking the books like they were well-beloved pets. She even sometimes leans her head against them on the shelves and when she does a transcendent smile crosses her features. And the remarkable thing is—

none

of them attack her! I asked the Librarian, to make sure, and he is quite firm that she may be the most innately talented librarian he's ever heard of.

So, I asked Time. He agrees. She isn't a Wizard and never will be. What she is, even he can't determine. But he has a suggestion. So, I bring it to you, Eminence. Has there ever been, or could there possibly be a Fighting Nun of the Order of Wen?"

The Abbot had grown enough in this Incarnation that he now appeared to be about seven, instead of the

well

over 800 years he'd actually been alive. Now he sat back in his chair, pulled one foot on top of the other knee and drummed pudgy fingers on the chair arm.

"Well, no," he replied, "as you well know. There never has been. But could there be? That is an intriguing question, Sweeper. But I ask

you

. If this maiden were to come here, would she actually a fighter? I have no doubt that learning some of our martial arts would be good discipline for the girl but would that be a proper use of her talents?"

Lu-Tze gave a lopsided grin and rolled a cigarette. "Probably not, but I cannot help but believe that the iron History Books might appreciate her loving attention. Whenever we say, 'It is written', it is written

there

!"

"Indeed, it is. And as steadfast in their duty as they are, the monks who care for them have never, to my mind, shown actual

love

. Advise the Archchancellor that we will consider taking this Miss McGoldrick in and give her the option of becoming a nun/librarian. If it turns out well, all benefit. If not, she can return to UU and assist the Librarian there. After all, someone will eventually have to take his place, though when is an interesting question. How long does a magical orangutan live? Thank-you for bringing this to our attention."

*****

The Archchancellor looked down at his salad plate and puzzled over the split pear-shaped green fruit.

"Ksendra, what is this thing?"

The maid smiled eagerly. "Cook says it's an a-vo-ca-do. She says that the greengrocer told her that it comes from Klatch and that the importer recommended that it might go especially well with a drop or two of Wow-wow sauce."

"Might it, now?" Ridcully steepled his fingers in front of his beard and smiled in anticipation. To his mind, almost anything was improved with a drop or two (or six) of Wow-wow sauce but to have someone tell him that here was a comestible specifically calling for his favorite (dangerous) condiment was an especially bright spot in the day.

Still smiling, he reached for the seasoning and sauces salver. And as was their custom, everyone sitting near him (not very subtly) leaned away.

"What was that all about?" Missy asked her tablemates, as she watched the 'wave' on either side of the Archchancellor.

"Just get ready to duck!" Hastor Thumbfinger muttered, "The Archchancellor is almost addicted to that sauce he's going to put on the—whatever it is. There's a story that once upon a time, one of Modo's compost heaps sort of came to life. It started flowing across the ground chasing the senior faculty. It followed them into the University buildings and, in desperation, the Archchancellor lobbed a bottle of his Wow-wow into the middle of it. When the explosion died down, it took a week to clean the mess up."

Missy laid her knife and fork down next to the plate.

"He's going to pour something that

explodes

on his food? Is he mad?"

"Maybe, but he's been doing it for almost seventy years—and he's still alive, healthy and in better shape than almost anyone else on campus. He's also smarter than anyone else on campus, with the possible exception of the Vice-Chancellor. So, while I know that correlation ≠ causation, I keep wondering if maybe I just might want to give the stuff a try—a very

small

try."

It was almost as though the serving staff had either read his mind or been waiting for some time to call his bluff. One maid lay a plate with a split avocado in front of him and another (carefully!) placed a bottle of Wow-wow next to it. Hastor's eyes widened and the other students around the table started to snicker.

Melissa giggled. "Okay, Hastor, here's your chance. Heck, I'll go with you. You put some sauce on the what-ever-that-is and I'll match you bite for bite."

"She's got you there, Hastor," Wolfe Woodbead smirked, "You can't very well let a girl show you she's braver than you are." He had a definite eye for the ladies and had been overjoyed when one showed up as a student in the midst of all the depressingly male company at Unseen University. Had you asked him confidentially, he'd have happily agreed that pursuing Melissa McGoldrick was at least as attractive an occupation as climbing the walls in the gymnasium. It was one he intended to initiate as soon as the opportunity allowed.

Woodbead pulled the stopper on the bottle and at once tendrils of vapor flowed out and down the sides. The spicy, pungent aroma made eyes widen and water around the table. Missy carefully tilted it and poured just a smidgen on each of the avocado's haves and then cut off two small bites.

"Well?" she challenged Hastor.

"Eat it, eat it, eat it . . ." the other boys chanted.

Hastor was trapped and he knew it. He took a deep breath, picked up his fork and speared one of the small pieces and watched as Melissa did the same.

"One . . . two . . . three!" Both students put their pieces in their mouths to the cheers of their tablemates. They chewed and froze.

"Whoaaaa . . ." Melissa breathed. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her sinuses drained and her skin flushed bright pink clear down to her toes. But she chewed just a little more and swallowed. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through her mouth, she repeated, "Whoaaa . . . that's—amazing. It's like a combination of horseradish and tomato paste with an overtone of multiple spices and a hint of anchovy. It almost hurts to eat but it's kind of a

good

hurt. What do you think, Hastor?"

"I think—Mildred? Could you bring us another one of these . . ."?

"Avocados, Master Hastor, and yes I shall. Do any of the other young gentlemen want a half?"

"I want a whole one," Melissa said firmly.

A couple of the other boys allowed as they might split a half while Melissa and Hastor dug eagerly into the remaining bits. Some minutes later, the entire table sat flushed and teary but quite happy about it. Mildred smiled and whispered the news in the Archchancellor's ear.

Ridcully chuckled. "Then it would seem that I might have to clacks an order back to the estates for another shipment. Otherwise, I might run out! And advise the cook that these avocado thingies need to be part of the standard larder. Have the greengrocer put them on repeating order, thank-you. The importer was right. These do go especially well with Wow-wow."

When he got the news, the importer, Ibn al-Rifirsayed, smiled and rubbed his hands. The gamble had paid off.

*****

Two weeks later, Stibbons sat next to Hex examining the results from the cluster of technomantic devices surrounding the Axle. None of them seemed to show anything out of the ordinary (for a given value of ordinary!) until one odd little box caught his attention.

"Hex, the little box over in the corner."

+++// "I see it. That's the

sonagraph

the Archchancellor cobbled together to make a picture of the Music With Rocks In. It's showing—something."//++++