Tales From The Guilds Ch 02

"Really, Sinestra, you have to get over this obsession with young Woodbead's class," Arachna, Lady Lacrodecta of Cob Priory chided her daughter as she changed the cast on the girl's arm. "Have you bothered to actually

read

Twerp's Peerage, especially the early entries on each family? The Nobility weren't created by the gods, after all. All of us were 'common' at one time until a particular individual showed sufficient superiority that the king elevated him."

"Mother, we don't have any kings anymore so that doesn't apply!" Sinestra was in a dark mood. It was the second time in as many years that Baldor had reset one of her traps to catch her when she was trying to get him to commit suicide. And the second time she'd ended up with a broken arm!

Lady Arachna sniffed. "Might I point out that Lord Vetinari first knighted and then ennobled Commander Vimes? And justifiably so. He is without question the second most powerful man on the Sto Plains and wields influence second only to the Patrician himself. Havelock made Sir Harry King, of all people, a Baron in recognition of his financial and philanthropic prowess. There is nothing to prevent Baldor from attaining rank along with wealth. He is up to, I believe, two commissions? And the lad is only seventeen. Zlorf Flannelfoot, himself, would be impressed."

"I'm not saying he isn't a good technical Assassin," Sinestra admitted grudgingly, "It's just that he belongs in with the Patrician's Clerks. Taking the Black is a career for the Gentry and he isn't!"

"Yet!" Arachna's voice had taken on an edge that her daughter didn't like, "And may I point out that he obviously likes you, though he may not know it. Otherwise you wouldn't still be walking around."

"Mother, are you saying he's toying with me?" Now Sinestra was really annoyed.

"If you want me to put it bluntly, I believe so. Your father has examined both the modifications he made to your deadfalls and both of them were carefully crafted to not be lethal. It reminds me somewhat of the way he courted me back when he discovered that his best friend at the Guild School was a girl in disguise."

Sinestra fell silent. Baldor was courting her? By not killing her when he obviously could? "What do you mean, 'he may not know it'? Either you like someone or you don't."

"No. Especially during these confusing years of adolescence the same person that attracts you may also annoy the dickens out of you. Right now you two annoy each other. You resent his presumption and he resents your advantage. This can change, or not as the case may be. I'm just telling you that you are spending too much emotional energy on Baldor just because he was a Scholarship Boy. Not to mention that it seems to get you hurt. Now another week and this arm will be totally healed. Do try not to get it broken a third time?"

*****

Miss Alice Band had gathered all her 'ladies' of Tump House together prior to the annual Wall Game Finals. "Now," she said firmly, "despite the contention some of us have with members of Cobra House, we have held an alliance with them for many years. The alliance began when Tump House was exclusively for men and it continues to this day. Therefore, we will cheer them on and encourage them just as they did up to the time we were eliminated in the Quarters. We will not," she looked pointedly at Sinestra, "let any personal quibbles we may have with any of the Cobra men keep us from our support—will we?"

A chorus of "No, Miss Band," came in reply.

"A bit louder, ladies?"

"No, Miss Band!"

"That's better. Now let's go get good places to watch from before they're all taken."

The game was thrilling. Up and down the walls of the Guild's inner courtyard the boys scrambled, firing the ball back and forth with the score never budging more than one point ahead or behind. Up the Coke Heaps, over the Window Box and around the Place Where the Mortar is Rotten the melee tumbled and struggled. The game seemed about to end in a tie when Arthur, Viscount Bakewell, managed to bounce a shot off Viktor Ludorum's head that both knocked the boy off the wall and scored a final point at the same time. Headmaster Downey waved the final flag and the perpetual trophy belonged to Cobra House for the second year in a row. The cheering and celebration continued well into the night.

The following morning things were a bit soberer, especially in the Headmaster's office where Baldor stood in front of Dr. Mericet and Sinestra in front of Miss Band facing Lord Downey.

The Headmaster steepled his fingers in front of his genial face, a twinkle in his eye. "First," he began, "I want to congratulate Cobra House on yesterday's victory. Well played, Baldor. Secondly, I want to express my concern for that arm, Sinestra. Is it healing well?"

Sinestra glared fiercely at Baldor and then turned back to the Headmaster. "It is, milord. Mother says that the cast can come off next week and then I can begin a course of physical therapy to regain the strength and flexibility."

"Yes," the Headmaster looked down at a letter on his desk, a letter written is a graceful, flowing script on the finest rag paper, "so she does. She also has asked me to intervene in the continuing dispute between you two. I am reluctant to do so. The last couple of years have sharpened both your skills to the point where you could join the upcoming final exam for the senior students and pass with distinction. The—uh—

competition

has served you both well. However," and here he produced a second letter written in a more business-like hand and signed with a single dark 'V', "it seems that others have become aware of your rivalry."

Both students' eyes widened. The Patrician had taken notice? Not, perhaps, a surprise. Lord Vetinari was also Provost of Assassins as well as being the most distinguished graduate of the School but that he had chosen to respond to it was worrisome.

"His Lordship acknowledges that your rivalry has taken you to heights rarely seen in first year key-stage five students. However, he cautions that you have become so proficient that you now run the risk of succeeding in inhuming each other and, for the good of the city, he cannot allow it. Therefore, as Headmaster I am declaring an imposed truce. Neither of you, henceforth, will do anything that will either bring harm to the other or cause the other to bring harm to him or herself. Is that quite clear?"

Jaws dropped then closed tightly after saying, in chorus, "Yes, Headmaster."

Downey nodded sharply. "Good. Now shake hands and let us go on to happier subjects. What plans have you for the upcoming holidays?"

"Well," Sinestra said hesitantly, "My aunt Coleoptera went to school with Lady Daphne, the current Duchess of Quirm, and has arranged for me to spend my holidays at Quirm Castle. There's to be a gigantic fete and every important person in Quirm will be there."

Lord Downey smiled in a predatory manner. "And every one of the has an assessment of some value. Are there any active commissions that you know of?"

"Yes, Headmaster, there are one or two though I'm not sure how to mix an assignment with my role as houseguest."

*****

Guildmistress Rosemarie Palm

Guild of 'Seamstresses'

Street of Negotiable Affection

Ankh-Morpork

Dear Rosie,

I am writing to introduce you to Lady Sinestra, Baroness Lacrodecta, a very promising student at our Guild School. Sinestra came to us as a tough little scamp who threw herself into her studies with enthusiasm. Unfortunately, the Guild has only been open to the ladies for very few years and the curriculum is still strongly weighted towards the kind of goal-oriented, straightforward kind of behavior that best suits the gentlemen. The other ladies on the faculty consider this a deficiency that we shall address in the future. However, at present there isn't any curriculum in the use of feminine arts and wiles in pursuit of our profession. Since Sinestra will be leaving on Holiday for a destination where such arts may be of great use, we are requesting a tutorial for her from the very skilled ladies of your guild.

Thanking you in advance,

T'Malia

Rosie looked up from the letter at Sinestra. The tough little scamp had blossomed into a classic beauty with high cheekbones, a flawless complexion and an oval face. There was, however, a strength of jaw to indicate that 'tough' was still applicable. Looking deeply into the girl's eyes, though, revealed that underneath the scamp was a vulnerable little girl, one still confused by the body that had grown up around her. The lower lip began to tremble just a little.

Rosie reached out a hand and laid it on the girl's shoulder. "It's okay, dear, you can tell me. Who is he?"

Sinestra broke down completely and as she sobbed Rosie beckoned a young under-'seamstress' to fetch a towel and a basin of cold water. Through her tears, Sinestra told the entire story of the aborted feud between her and Baldor and the discovery that once hatred had been forbidden and indifference was impossible the only emotion left felt like love. She was so confused and didn't know what to do. And then there was the upcoming party.

"Weird, isn't?" Sinestra asked as she washed her face.

"Weird?" Rosie chuckled, "Not in the least. I would say that it's a bit unusual but far from unique. In all honesty I find it wonderfully romantic. You two will make a darling couple, albeit one to be given wide berth. And naturally young Baldor is completely oblivious. That is to be expected. Heretofore his every waking moment has been spent in pursuit of there still being another waking moment. However, I suggest that his attention is something that can be dealt with later. You have a party to attend and a commission to attempt. This is unique in Assassins' Guild annals. Normally an Assassin just crashes the party, inhumes the client and leaves. Instead you will be at the party and you will have to locate the client and accomplish the commission without disrupting the festivities. Lady Daphne would prefer it that way. So, let's start with make-up. Then we will discuss your dress and finally mannerisms. I don't think this will take long at all."

*****

Standing in her guest room at Quirm Castle, Sinestra finished making up her face and regarded herself in the full-length mirror. The 'seamstresses' it appeared, were past-masters at cosmetics and her mother's dressmaker had worked wonders. She was still in the traditional Assassins' black but what black! Obsidian sequins glittered from the sleeves and bosom of an underwired, form fitting velvet top that flowed down to a pair of black silk palazzo pants with slashes of deep marine blue. With her hair sculpted into a pageboy she was, she had to admit, a knockout. Giving just a moment's thought to what effect it might have on Baldor, she dismissed the notion and headed out the door, down the hall and steps to the main ballroom. Nearly the entirety of Quirm's movers and shakers were already beginning to arrive. Champagne (and what champagne!) flowed like mountain streams and the canapés featured the area's justly famous seafood. It was going to be a fabulous party.

Somewhere out there was the Comte d' Bontemps. The source of his commission was unknown but the assessed fee was AM$100,000 less Guild cut. Someone really wanted him dead! And apparently more than one attempt at collecting that fee had already been made and failed. But Sinestra was pretty sure that the reason for the failures had to do with the approach. Some of her fellow Assassins had probably tried a frontal assault, so to speak, on the Comte's castle. He wasn't a graduate of the Guild school himself but obviously he could afford to pay those who were and they had made his family home impregnable. Sinestra had never been one for attacks. Her specialty was traps and tonight she was setting one—with herself as bait.

"Your role," Miss Palm had explained, "is that of a virginal Ankh-an girl from an aristocratic family away from home for the first time. The Comte has never been to Ankh-Morpork but he considers himself an expert because he has read everything critical of us written by his countrymen. He will consider it his patriotic duty to seduce you and will expect that you would thank him for it."

"Well," Sinestra replied with a giggle, "he's partially right. I am a virgin and an aristocrat. The rest, though, may be his undoing."

Rosie had smiled and nodded approvingly.

Mingling through the crowd, Sinestra kept her ear peeled for each announcement the herald made. It was a huge party and who knew when the Comte would finally deign to make his appearance. Possibly he was one of those people who came last, expecting waves of applause or something equally absurd. Her patience was about exhausted when, with a fanfare, the herald announced, "

Annonçant son excellence sereine, défenseur inconditionnel du royaume, le Comte de Bontemps

!" At last!

Setting her face in an expression of wide-eyed innocence, Sinestra sidled her way into the Comte's receiving line, a line, she noted, made up almost exclusively of women. When she finally reached the man and was introduced, she gushed demurely, "Ooo, a real Quirmian Comte! I've never met a man like you before."

If the Comte had had any wary defenses up before, they vanished like tatters before the gale. He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes in appreciation and lifted his chest, preening. "My dear," he crooned, "let me introduce you to men like me more fully. I insist on the next dance."

Dance was a valued skill at the Guild and Monsieur de Balourd was both an excellent teacher and a stern taskmaster. If there was one thing Sinestra knew she surpassed Baldor in, it was dancing and she flowed into the Comte's arms and floated across the floor with him.

His first comment was the old cliché, "My dear, you dance divinely" and he followed it up with one timeworn bit of flattery after another. Had it been anyone else, or at least anyone who wasn't a prospective client, she'd have rolled her eyes and found an excuse to extract herself. Instead, using a technique she'd learned from the 'seamstresses' she blushed at each one and snuggled closer.

I'm going to make so much money

, she thought to herself,

if other men are as gullible as he seems. But I mustn't get overconfident! You never know when the man you think you are playing is actually playing you

.

"This castle is as big as the Patrician's palace but he never throws parties," Sinestra whined, "And all of it is taken up, they say, with offices and dreary little clerks poking their noses into everyone's business. It's so tedious. I wonder what the rest of Quirm Castle looks like."

The Comte rose to the bait like a starving trout. "My dear Sinestra, do let me give you a tour. I know the place inside and out. Come down this hall with me."

She clung to his arm as they left the main party. The Comte declaimed on the frescos and the hanging portraits until they reached a secluded alcove where he pulled her inside. Wrapping one arm around her waist and stroking her hair with the other hand, he pressed her body against his. In response she raised her hand to his face to fondle the angle of his jaw before tucking her hand under his chin and pressing a ring against his throat.

"The Guild says, 'good-bye'" she whispered tapping the inside of the ring and sending the poisoned dart within into his neck.

The Comte recoiled in shock. "Assass . . ." he began before crumpling to the floor like a wet towel.

Sinestra went into Stillness, all her senses awake to detect any signs of approach. There was nothing. Down the hall the party carried on, oblivious. Once sure that she was not detected, Sinestra laid the late Comte out neatly, crossed his hands on his chest, closed his eyes and pinned the formal receipt to his shirt front. The she waved goodbye and retraced her steps to the main ballroom. She stood in Stillness again until a group of giggling celebrants passed by and joined them, letting the Brownian movement of the crowd carry her to the far side of the hall before a shout arose indicating that someone had found the body. It provided about ten minute's diversion. But the formal receipt proved it wasn't murder, just another aristocratic dispute finally settled, so the party continued into the wee hours.

*****

At the beginning of the next term, it was time for the awarding of the Teatime Prize. Usually awarded for the best

imagined

inhumation during the previous Holiday, for the last two years it had been awarded to Baldor because he had actually inhumed clients and there had been nothing

imaginary

about them. However, this time the award went to Sinestra and, as custom decreed, it was Baldor who relinquished the prized trophy and handed it to her to the cheers and applause of the entire school.

"Oh, go ahead," her mother had said with a grin, "wear the party outfit. Baldor won't know what hit him!"

Nor did any other boy in the school over the age of twelve. When Sinestra swayed up onto the stage to accept the trophy from Baldor's limp, unresisting hands, she gave him a saucy curtsy and blew an air kiss to the assembled student body. All the boys were gobsmacked into silence while all the girls from Tump and Black Widow houses furiously took notes. As he relinquished the trophy, Baldor managed to croak out the whisper, "You—you're beautiful" and got a wink in response.

Sinestra returned to the school uniform the next day and stayed within the proper boundaries for the remainder of the year. Rivalry and competition with Baldor was no longer an issue. She knew she'd already won.

It was the night of the final exam. Failure was fatal and everyone knew it. On the other hand, if anyone were to pass, it was presumed that it would be Baldor and Sinestra. Others hoped to. They were expected to. Still, 'expected' was not the same as 'guaranteed' and it was with just the slightest agitation that the first promoted Scholarship Boy looked at the proposed route until a soft knock came at his door.

Opening it, Baldor saw, to his amazement, Sinestra standing in the hall with one finger before her lips.

"Shh. No one knows I'm here but you. And I want you to know that I expect you to pass. I will and I'll be waiting for you when you get back. And we'll celebrate our graduation and our birthdays. Understand?"

She kissed him quickly on the lips and disappeared down the corridor.