The Counterweight Palace is without question the finest Agatean Restaurant in Ankh-Morpork and, as such, a very popular eating and meeting place for that renowned city's movers and shakers. Here the landed aristocracy noshes on sim dum when they need a break from solid country fare. Here the Guild masters meet and discuss policy and here, because the owner is alleged to be the younger sister of the Chairman of the Central Committee of the People's Beneficent Republic of Agatea, the Patrician keeps an eye on things, 24/8.
So it was that around a lazy Susan heaped with dishes of barbequed duck feet, steamed pig's ears, sweet and sour chicken gizzards and other esteemed dishes from the far Aureant, Lord Downey of the Assassins' Guild and Mr. Boggis of the Thieves Guild (accompanied by their staffs and bodyguards) considered important matters of mutual interest.
"T'way I see it, milord, is that it's all a matter o' self-perception," Mr. Boggis began after swallowing a delectable morsel of deep-fried .303 Bookworm, "and 'ow you carries yourself. The difference between an Assassin and a thug is the set o' rules and deportment that a Guild member adheres t'. In the same way, a common 'ousebreaker isn't the same as a gentleman burglar (or lady, beggin' your pardons, Miss Band, milady T'Malia). What needs to be brought 'ome to the young gentry of this city is that, especially for those descendants of the more, may I say, improvident aristocrats, there is more than one career path open to 'em."
"The name Edward d'Eath comes to mind," Lord Downey sipped a particularly fine Quirmian white wine, "Now there was a young man who definitely would have benefited from a less lethal métier. Though had my esteemed predecessor followed the instructions the Patrician gave him in regards the gonne, things would have gone better for both of them."
Mr. Boggis nodded, chewed and swallowed a mouthful of fried rice. "From a multy-tude of standpoints, it seems t' me that our two guilds should work more closely together. It would benefit us, nat'rally, but also the upcomin' generations and, not incidentally, the city."
"And, of course," Lady T'Malia interposed, "pointing out that last part to His Lordship will surely grease the wheels of approval. That is ever his primary concern."
Cyril Bychance, (of Bychance, Fairbody and Pune, barristers) designated counsel to the Thieves' Guild, nodded in agreement. "As it should be," he wheezed, and took a sip of cold water. Being a zombie, it was necessary to maintain hydration lest he crumble to dust while walking to the courtroom. The Guild of Lawyers had lost a number of members that way before Mr. Slant pointed the fact out.
"So what you are proposing, Mr. Boggis, is that the Thieves and the Assassins ally for purposes of mutual benefit whenever appropriate?" Miss Band enquired, "And what do the Thieves gain from this?"
Mr. Bychance's face crinkled into something resembling a smile
1
. He enjoyed innate suspicion.
1
Or more accurately a wadded up handful of newspaper.
"Well, Miss Band," Boggis explained, "though the Guild has always tried t' make a point of bein' the Guild of Thieves, Cutpurses, 'ousebreakers and Allied Trades, we do 'ave a soft spot in our 'earts, nay even a curric'lum, for Gentleman Burglars. Sadly, for some years now we've lacked anyone gentlemanly (or ladylike) enough to teach it. If we could persuade t' Assassins to assist w' tutorials on proper dress and deportment, the aristocracy would less commonly bleed off members durin' their tender years and the Thieves would improve their standin' in the world. It would seem a mut'lly beneficial arrangement."
Lord Downey leaned back and reflectively sipped his wine. The rise of the commercial classes in Ankh-Morpork since the ascendency of Lord Vetinari had proven fiscally advantageous to the Guild of Assassins. Once the sole dominion of the landed aristocracy, assassination had become the latest fashion in conflict resolution among the
nouveau arrive.
Naturally the Guild had done its homework and assessed commissions appropriately. The increased flow of Guild Tax into the Guild coffers was greatly appreciated.
Lady T'Malia was having similar thoughts. In her mother's day social barriers were absolute and incipient
2
class warfare constant. Another aspect to Vetinari's genius had been his ability to convince the wealthy of the city that a 'rising tide lifts all boats' and that whenever the lower classes did a bit better the moneyed did a
lot
better. And the increase in general discretionary income had brought about a lowering of social barriers, as well. As a young woman she would never have dreamed of associating with the likes of Mrs. Palm. In those days the section of the Shades where the 'Seamstresses' hung out was officially named The Whorepits. Now, through skilled lobbying and political maneuvering, it had been retitled the Street of Negotiable Affection and what were once houses of ill-repute were quite well thought of. Guildmistress Palm was now both a redoubtable figure in the city's hierarchy and a good friend.
2
Or outright violent!
She turned to the Master of Assassins. "You know, Headmaster, this has possibilities that will require extended thought and consultation. I'm not immediately ready to agree but would be loath to dismiss the idea out of hand."
3
3
And given the rings on her hand, dismissal is forever.
Downey nodded sagely.
*****
Cedric Llewellyn, Lord Sto Kennet, sat looking out the window of the dingy apartment he'd shared with his late mother. There wasn't much to look at, just a bent, elderly figure in a saffron robe diligently sweeping the autumn leaves. For a twelve-year-old boy in greatly reduced circumstances, it was the only available entertainment. The voices of his guardians came faintly through the cracked door.
"The cold facts of things," Reginald Pune, JD proclaimed, "are simply these. If the previous baronet had not fallen in with that dreadful Gilt person and his late lady not been so obsessed with 'rescuing' swamp dragons, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But they did so we are. Now, somehow, the lad has to gain a living and the way to do that is through good schooling. As the family's retained counsel, I recommend the Assassins' Guild."
"For Cedric?" Aunt Theolonia was incensed, "For one thing, he is so small and slight that I doubt he would survive his first year, especially as the poor lad would be going in as a Scholarship Boy. You of all people, Reginald, know how painful that can be! And for another, he shares his mother's soft heart. The idea that somehow dear Cedric could bring himself to 'inhume' another human being is unthinkable. He would deliberately fail the Final Exam, in my opinion, presuming he lived long enough to take it. Now let's talk some sense!"
Cedric nodded quietly to himself. Auntie was right. Angry as he was at the unfairness of the world he wasn't angry enough to hurt anyone. Killing people for money was just wrong. On the other hand, taking other people's stuff was wrong, too, and that's what Mr. Gilt had done to his father. He's heard that Mr. Gilt had very permanently disappeared because the Patrician had gotten angry with
him
but it hadn't gotten them back their money.
"I've been talking to Lady T'Malia and she says that the Assassins and the Thieves have come to an agreement that allows gentlefolk to respectably join the Thieves so long as they stick to burglary and jewel theft," Theolonia was on a tear and continued, "and as his designated guardian I say that it will take a great deal of argument to dissuade me from sending him there. Hopefully, he will collect the premiums for them from the richer, more respectable and more hygienic members of society, advance through the Guild and eventually regain his rightful place in Society!"
The old man with the broom looked up at Cedric from two floors below and winked. That seemed odd.
How did he know I was up here
, the boy thought,
he acts like he knows something I don't . . .
*****
Life in the Thieves' Guild School was, Cedric thought some months later, actually pretty good. While on one hand his school uniform was less well-crafted and from much coarser material than his previous clothing,
it was in far better repair
. And while, on one hand, the meals at the school dining room were more 'plain and hearty' than connoisseurs' delights, on the other hand
you got to go back for seconds!
On one hand he had to share his room with three other boys, on the other
it was heated.
So while the trade-offs were constant, the net score was in his favor. Or at least it seemed to be until Taffy Kleptis confronted him during a break from Pickpocketing Basic.
"Our ma'am says yer a toff," she stated accusingly.
Cedric's face started to crumple up towards tears. "No one can help how they're made," he sniffled defensively, "It isn't my fault."
"Why are yer 'ere? Shouldn't yer be swankin' around wit' t' other richies?"
