More Tales From The Guilds Ch 30

Ponder Stibbons, HEM, DThau, Reader in Non-Volatile Intelligence, Cantoride Speaker in Slood Refurgance, Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic, Project Coordinator, Reader in Invisible Writings, Master of the Traditions and Vice-Chancellor of Unseen University opened the top two buttons on his under-tunic, straightened his back, squared his shoulders and tightened his jaw. Dinner tonight, the menu had announced, would begin with one of the newest recipes developed in the University's acclaimed kitchen--spicey chicken curry. Crafted from recently discovered ingredients (coconut and evil-looking wrinkly, orange, chilis) as well as garlic, ginger and the juice from limes imported from Klatch, the dish had been served several times before and each time had resulted in red faces, sweaty foreheads and the consumption of vast quantities of beer. Many of the most senior of the faculty now wanted nothing more to do with it but among the students it was very, very popular--as was the Vice-Chancellor. That being the case, Ponder felt obliged to wizard-up and lead the charge into the tureen so he ladled himself a large portion and tucked in.

Next to him, Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully did the same. The man had his own signature wow-wow sauce

1

imported from his family estates. That concoction caused tears to flow, sinuses to drain and faces to flush right down to the toes so he was not to be put off by a dish that was 'just' volcanically hot.

[

1

A condiment with a well-deserved reputation for exploding if not handled with care]

"Yer know, Stibbons." The Archchancellor began between spoon-fulls of the incandescent stew, "there are rumors that a combination like this is popular 'n Djelibeybi. I hear they make it fr'm crocodile. Takin' m' largest fly rod there through m'Door might prove sportin'."

Stibbons put his spoon down and looked at the Archchancellor. Taking off his glasses (to wipe away the steam), he remarked, "Archchancellor, crocodiles eat people. They also eat large antelopes, bewilderbeestes, young hippo and

each other

. Whatever kind of fly might you expect to need? And once you hooked one, then what?"

"An extra-big, double-hook, jointed streamer ought t' int'rest one, don'tcherknow, and once 've hooked the brute the sport begins. 'f I can get it up on the shore, a crossbow bolt through the brain should finish it off. Then it would simply be a matter of skinnin' the belly for leather and butcherin' the tail for meat. And, of course, havin' the skull boiled and cleaned. I know jus' the place back at the manor house t' hang it. Should be quite the sensation. No one else in the shire is likely t'have one."

Stibbons had to allow that was quite probable. Of course it was equally probable that no one else in the shire would particularly

want

one. Countrymen like the Archchancellor are great fans of wildlife, at least so far as shooting, eating and stuffing it are concerned, but there had to be

some

limits, didn't there?

"If you're serious about this, Archchancellor, at the very least I must insist that you contact Queen Ptraci for some assistants? It's all very well to fight a crocodile on a hook and line but what if there is another waiting just below the surface for you to turn your back?"

By now Ridcully had finished his bowl, three pints of beer and had wiped the perspiration off his forehead.

"Yer know, that's a sens'ble suggestion, Stibbons. I'll take it under consid'ration while I tie up some crocodile flies."

Crocodile. Flies. Ponder shuddered at the thought.

*****

Downhill from Castle Ridcully was the estate village and it included a pub called the Pugilist's Punch

2

. There High Priest Hughnon Ridcully's son Mostin stopped in for a pint or six of an evening and talked over everything about the estate with his tenants and employees. It's not that he was being 'one of the lads', (he

was

the lord of the manor, after all) but being a congenial employer was just good policy and it kept him informed of the day-to-day details of the acres. He was, being a Ridcully, warming up with his third pint when a man walked through the door with a puzzled look on his face.

[

2

Named after a Ridcully ancestor a couple of generations prior.]

"Squire," the man called out, "I've just received 'n order from your uncle and 'm more than a little baffled."

The younger Ridcully rolled his eyes. The man, Otis Sandcross, was the most prominent rod builder in the entire region and was the one the famously angling Ridcully's always turned to. But Uncle Mustrum was given to ordering things out of the ordinary and Mostin was preparing himself for any sort of bad news.

"By Io, Sandcross, what has the wizard asked you t' build this time? He must already have tackle suitable f'r anything on the Disc that swims, what else c'n he poss'bly want?"

In answer, Mr. Sandcross took out a clacks and handed it to Mostin who received it and read with widening eyes.

"He wants you t' build a rod with th' backbone needed t' throw an

8/0

fly and t' fight a--a

crocodile

? The man has gone mad. Where on th' Circle Sea does he expect t' find such a beast and how does he expect t'--oh! He's wants t' use a Door t' go t' Djelibeybi. Oh, dear. Rebecca," he ordered the barmaid, "draw Mr. Sandcross a pint o' Bullroarer's. And bring it t' the corner booth. I c'n see this discussion goin' on for some time."

Once both men were seated in relative privacy and the levels in their mugs drawn down several swallows worth, Sandcross began.

"I've a mind t' build the Archchancellor somethin' around 15 feet long with a verra stiff action, extr' solid backbone--'n needin' two hands. Where he would get a reel large enough t'fit, though, is a mystery t' me. T' be perf'ctly honest, Squire, 'm kinder hopin' this is just some fancy o' his 'nd he'll get over it 'nd eventch'ly forget the whole idea."

Mostin grimaced and shook his head. "It wouldn't be Uncle Mustrum, t' do that. Once th' man gets his head wrapped around 'n idear, he don't let go. He and Dad 're both renowned f'r bein' stubborn 'nd hard-headed. As th' years h've passed he has come t'listen t'Vice Chancellor Stibbons of an occasion, but anyone else? They hav' t'be still yellin' after five minutes b'fore he decides that th' subject d'serves attention. Nay, Otis, yer goin' t' have t'build this fool rod 'nd send it t'Unseen. What he does with it 'fter that is on him. Crocodile on a fly, by Io. Wonder what put him up t'that...?"

*****

On the Street of Cunning Artificers, the dwarf Marley Halieson looked over his glasses (and his mustache and out from under his bushy eyebrows and requisite helmet) up at the Archchancellor. "You want me to build you a reel to catch a crocodile? A

crocodile

by Tak? Archchancellor, you've always been a good customer and as fine a man with a flyrod as ever I've known but why would want to try and do this? And where do expect to find one?"

"Crocodiles 're common on the Djel just across the Circle Sea," the Archchancellor replied, "so all I need t'do is dial m'Door there, step out on the bank 'nd cast away. Stibbons did suggest that I have Queen Ptraci assign me some guards and assistants t'back me up just in case some other brute decided t'crash the party, so t'speak. And bein' that my Vice Chancellor is a sensible man, 'm inclined t' go along. So findin' a crocodile shouldn't be much of a problem 'nd if I tie a big enough fly I should be able t'get a bite. Then it will be up t'my man Standcross's rod and your reel t' bring it in. 've heard that the beasts taste like chicken 'nd I'm lookin' forward to havin' the kitchen brew up some curry."

"Crocodile. Curry. Are you serious, sir? And just how big a crocodile would you be trying to land?"

"Oh, nothin' monstrous. 'm sure a six to eight footer would have enough meat on its tail t'cook up a pot. That's why 'm planning on anglin' for one instead of shootin' it. If I wanted somethin' really big, I'd go out with either a spear or m' heavy crossbow. They're supposed to rather a challenge t'bag, I understand, once they get big."

"I would imagine they are!" Halieson's voice quavered, "Are you by any chance planning on bringing your heaviest 'bow along, just in case?"

The Archchancellor smiled behind his immense beard. "That I am. This is supposed t'be an anglin' trip, don'tcherknow, but yer never can tell what might show up. And the place on the manor wall where I'm plannin' on hangin' the skull is big enough that if a real monster shows up I won't have t'be movin' m'other trophies around. So build me a stout reel like a good chap, Halieson, 'm lookin' forward t'this trip."

*****

In UU's main kitchen, the head cook, Mrs. Heathrow, folded her arms and glared at the message from the Vice Chancellor. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes to make sure that she had not somehow misinterpreted it.

"The Archchancellor intends to catch a crocodile and wants us to turn it into curry. Well, I don't see that as a problem--for us! Now for the Archchancellor, I have my doubts. Crocodiles are large, have many, many teeth and are famous for eating people. Just how in seven hells does he expect to bag one?"

Her assistant, Rachael, turned up the palms of her hands and shrugged. "It be the Archchancellor, mum. He proven unkillable here since he took over these year ago. If other wizards can't kill 'im, what chance do some giant lizard have?"

Mrs. Heathrow mused on the question. When Ridcully first arrived the other wizards thought they were getting the sort of countryside wizard who talks to birds in soft voices, wears brown and reveres Mother Nature (y'know, a push-over). They were soon disabused. Attempts to invoke the tradition of Dead Men's Pointy Shoes resulted in any upwardly ambitious Wizard being stabbed with his own knife, having his head repeatedly slammed in doors or being surreptitiously shot with a crossbow. (Getting one's ears pinned to a door with a pair of crossbow bolts can be highly discouraging.) Quite possibly Ridcully might just pull off this mad venture. After all, a couple of the faculty still limped after all these years.

"You have a point, Rachael. Since he got full control of his Door he has brought us trout, pheasants, the occasional wild boar and regular braces of wild duck. Given how much time he spends on the shooting range in the gym and how much time he spends casting on the frog pond out back I'm inclined to think we ought to start setting aside the ingredients for a crocodile curry. No doubt the students will think it a great idea. The faculty, now? They'd probably pass. Snowflakes!"

Rachael frowned and nodded agreement. She rather liked the curry and always made sure that there was enough to serve the University and a couple of bowls left over for the kitchen staff. Any wizard (or student) who couldn't stand up to it was, in her opinion, definitely a snowflake.

*****

In New Djeli, Queen Ptraci took the clacks from the grinning delivery goblin, read it and then handed it to her 'Minister of Trade & Revenue', Chidder, and waited with one eyebrow raised for him to answer.

"Catch a crocodile on a flyrod? It would be a lot simpler to just drop a sharp rock on one from one of the bridges. However, we don't have any shortage of the beasts so if the wizard wants to try casting for a crocodile to make curry out of, who am I to object? He's going to need a skinner and a butcher--and a couple of your guards would be a good idea. The no-longer-sacred-crocs are getting warier these days so I don't think any of them would try to make a meal of the Archchancellor but in the interests of good relations with Ankh-Morpork let's not take any chances. But what are these Door things? Isn't he coming by boat?"

"Rumor has it that they're magical phenomena that have been around for centuries but which Unseen has only recently learned to control. They still seem to be quite hard to steer but since this is Ridcully we're talking about, if he says he's coming through one, we ought to give him a particular place to land. Tell one of the Ptaclusps to escort the man to some suitable accommodation for the evening and then have a group pick him up in the morning and accompany him to the Djel. In the meantime have a couple of the palace staff locate a good beach to cast from. And while you're at it, set up a viewing platform. I really want to see how this comes out!"

Chidder nodded. "If he pulls this off, I can see a new industry building--tourist angling safaris! Who knows? We might have to have a larger hotel built. Maybe even run safaris up river and set up permanent camps. The more I think about this, the better I like it!"

"Angling safaris? This could be the best thing since bridges, indoor plumbing and innerspring mattresses. Well, Sweetie, since you're the one in charge of buying and selling for the kingdom I'll leave it in your capable hands. I'm going to go take a bath."

Chidder bowed (and winked) and left for the clacks tower to reply. The Archchancellor ought to be invited to open his Door into the palace's Library, Chidder felt. He was a professor and wizard, after all, and should feel right at home. Of course, some of the books there might startle the man a bit. Wizards, he'd heard, had little or nothing to do with women and a few of the Palace's illustrated volumes had rather a lot to do with women and spectacularly what to do with them!

*****

Some months later Ridcully received the mighty rod and its reel. He had spent the winter crafting 8/0 flies with three joints that wiggled seductively when retrieved. Like the tackle, they were monstrous, about eight inches long and silvery grey with sparkles. Because these are

crocodile

flies, they had to be attached to the line with wire leader. Warning students (and faculty) standing nearby to back off, the Archchancellor shook out some line and then made a couple of sweeping false casts before shooting it the entire length of the University frog pond and letting it drop gently to the surface of the water. The resident frogs were terrified and all beat a hasty retreat into the reeds. Mustrum smiled in satisfaction. Everything worked just as he hoped and as he retrieved the huge fly, it wriggled in a most life-like manner through the water. Yes! Now all he needed was a receptive crocodile.

*****

"Archchancellor! Welcome to New Djeli. I see you have your tackle and--is that a cool box? I'm sure you will find our crocodile tail cutlets just the ticket for a pot of curry." The senior Ptaclusp was going out of his way to be hospitable so as to get the visitor out of the shocking library and into a comfortable lodging (with meals) for the night. It didn't look to be working. Ridcully ran his gaze over the titles on the shelf with a twinkle in his eye.

"Mr. Ptaclusp, might I take a volume or two t'm'room tonight? Th'difference in time between here and Ankh-Morpork has put m'temporal gland inta a touch of misalignment 'nd I may find it a trifle diff'cult t' get t'sleep."

"Uh, but of course, Archchancellor. However, I should like to point out that her majesty has directed that you be taken down to the river immediately after breakfast, so you might end up short of sleep."

"Not likely, man. 'm by nature an early riser. I just need somethin' t'calm the mind before shuteye."

Tucking a couple of the most risqué volumes under his arm, the Archchancellor followed the slightly scandalized Mr. Ptaclusp to his lodgings.

*****

As he stated, the Archchancellor was up at dawn. He jogged around the hotel a couple of times and did the fifty pushups of his normal morning routine. Then he showered and changed into the tropical ensemble Mrs. Whitlow had assembled for him, stout boots, khaki cotton trousers and a matching short-sleeved over-shirt with four accordion pockets and a belt. It left his massively hairy forearms in full view. Reporting to the dining hall, he viewed the buffet with approval. There were fuul beans, bissara, falafel, aish beledi, a vegetable frittata with lamb, creamy white lebneh cheese, eggs with cured beef and no end of fresh and dried fruit. The man rubbed his hands together in happy anticipation and grabbed a plate and a mug to fill.

Now well fortified for the day's adventures, Ridcully joined the group Ptraci had assigned him. There were a couple of men with large knives who were obviously the skinner and the butcher but with them were a handful of imposingly tall, well-built, dark-skinned women with spears. Obviously Her Majesty was as good as her word in preventing any surreptitious reptiles from 'sampling' the Archchancellor.

The Howondalandian women fell in step with the wizard on either side and escorted him to a broad stretch of sand next to the River Djel. There a formal viewing stand was waiting with Queen Ptraci, Minister Chidder and a bevy of courtiers sitting beneath umbrellas, fanning themselves. Only a couple of hours after dawn and the day was already hot. Ridcully mentally reminded himself to personally thank Mrs. Whitlow for the tropical outfit and for his shady hat. First he bowed politely to his audience and then stepping near (but not

at

) the water's edge, he fastened one of his gigantic home-tied flies to the line, shook out a length and then with a couple of false casts fired it well out into the river where a moderate sized pair of eyes poked up above the surface. Stripping the line in to give the fly proper action, he pulled it in front of the crocodile's nose. The beast gave it what seemed to be a skeptical look and paid no other heed. Several more casts produced the same reaction so the Archchancellor took out a leather folder and exchanged the first fly for a more brightly colored version. Again the great rod arced and straightened and again the fly landed near the toothy snout. Again Ridcully stripped in line and this time he got a reaction!

With a sweep of its tail, the reptile charged and snapped up the fly, driving the double hooks deeply into its jaw. The pain drove the animal mad and it thrashed and spun, inadvertently tying its own jaws closed. Thrashing, diving and jumping the croc fought the wizard. But the croc was not terribly large and Ridcully is. The backbone of St. Croix's bamboo and the muscles on the Archchancellor's arms soon made it obvious that the fight would soon end. Pulling and reeling, Ridcully worked the crocodile up to the water's edge and its head onto the bank. At that point one of the guards took a couple of strides next to beast and with both hands drove the spear head down just behind the skull, fatally severing the spinal cord. The crocodile shuddered once, shot up onto the sand and then lie there quivering post mortem.

"Oh, well done, Archchancellor!" the queen called out as she began to applaud. And naturally since the queen was applauding, all the courtiers joined in. Mr. Ptaclusp arrived with a iconograph and took several images of Ridcully and his quarry, both on the beach and hanging from nearby frame. When the ceremony was done, the skinner and butcher set to work and in a short time the cold box was full of curry meat and a cobbler was taking the Archchancellor's measurements for a new pair of crocodile skin boots.

"This will take a couple of months, Archchancellor, to tan the belly skin and make up the boots but once they're done we will ship them to you. I wager that no one else in Unseen will have a pair like them."

"I should imagine not! And while yer at it, kindly boil out th' skull 'nd ship it along with th' boots. I've a blank place on th'wall of the manor house that needs fillin' 'nd a croc skull will be just th' thing. Likely no one else in the shire will have anythin' like it."

*****

ARCHCHANCELLOR CURRY'S UP the headline on the Ankh-Morpork

Times

read with the iconograph of the Archchancellor standing proudly next to his prize. The result was a swarm of clacks messages from Ankh-Morpork to New Djeli inquiring about the sporting possibilities. Ptaclusp IIb immediately set down to draw up plans for an addition to the New Djeli Palace Hotel and for several safari camps farther upstream. Money flowed, projects were built, new businesses blossomed and people were employed. Vetinari steepled his fingers, smiled and nodded approvingly. All those Ankh-Morpork dollars that were sent to Djelibabi would soon return with orders for the Street of Cunning Artificers. Those businesses would pay their taxes and the city would prosper. The Patrician wondered what crocodile curry tasted like. He must, he thought, ask the University for a sample.