Tales From The Guilds Ch 12

Staff in the aristocratic town homes along Scoone Avenue traditionally get Sundays and Wednesday afternoons off. This, naturally, leads to a great increase in trade on those days in the various pubs, bars and takeaways in the surrounding neighborhood. Down the avenue and across Water Bridge from "The Fronts" of Unseen University lies the Patrician's Purse, a pub not quite posh enough to qualify as a 'lounge' but sufficiently upscale that the employers of servants in Ankh aren't ashamed for them to be seen there. Indeed, it is high class enough that members of Unseen's faculty are irregular patrons. On the wintery Wednesday evening in question, a table to one side of the main room was occupied by the Librarian, the Senior Wrangler and his fiancé, Mrs. Whitlow. They were sharing a convivial set of pints and quarts, a roast chicken, fried potatoes and, in the Librarian's case, a huge fruit salad

1

when a subtle shift hit the Multiverse.

1

In other words, a light snack

"Ook?" the Librarian's head snapped up and he set down his mug with a thump.

"I'm not sure," replied the Senior Wrangler, "but whatever it was it seems to have come from that girl sitting on the stool at the end of the bar, the one staring at her half roll. She seems rather alarmed."

Mrs. Whitlow rose and, in full Chatelaine mode, strode over to the girl. "Alright, young lady, hwhat have you done?"

Cowed by the older woman's aura of authority, the girl whimpered, "Oy ain't done nuffin! Oy were jus' sittin' here eatin' me apple when allus a sudden it turned into this roll. An'—an' me water turned into beer!" She gestured to the glass on the bar beside her.

Mrs. Whitlow regarded the glass suspiciously and bent down to sniff the contents, giving anyone nearby a clear view of her impressive cleavage. "

That

is not beer! Aye would say it were scrumble except hit appears to be hay very high quality of scrumble. Landlord! Hwhat is this?"

Cooper Caskwell, the publican, wandered over and picked up the glass. He, too, took a sniff. "Calvados! That's Quirmian apple brandy, that is. Where'd it come from?" He glared at the girl. "Potnia, what 'ave yer done?"

Potnia crumpled into tears, "Oy were just sittin' 'ere thinkin' that ever'body'd be 'ealthier and 'appier if'n they ate less meat and drank less beer and ate more fresh fruit and drank water. Oy never meant any 'arm!"

Her eyebrow raised in disapproval, Mrs. Whitlow turned to the two wizards still seated at the table. "Hwould one of you gentlemen care to venture han hopinion?"

The two wizards regarded each other with sideways glances, nodded and walked

2

over. By now the room was silent and all eyes were focused on the end of the bar. The Librarian took a sip and all his hair stood on end, turning him into a red puff ball. "Eek!" he managed after a few minutes and a half dozen coughs.

2

or knuckled

The Senior Wrangler glared at the barkeep. "Mr. Caskwell, is there any more of this?"

"Oy don't know 'ow. It were just water, from this 'ere cask . . ."

Suspicious eyes all focused on either the landlord, the cask or both. Mr. Caskwell looked around, took a deep breath and carefully reached up to the shelf. He pulled down a small, round glass and wiped it. Straightening his back manfully, he tipped the glass under the tap and let out a dram. Water it was not! The amber liquid glooped slowly in the bottom as he swirled it around. He sniffed again and his eyes widened.

" 'at's a thirty gallon cask, 'at is. And it's full of this stuff. How . . .?"

"Potnia," Mrs. Whitlow commanded, "Aye think hyou'd better come with us!" And, taking the girl by the hand, she marched her out the door, over the bridge and up to the front gate of Unseen University.

An hour later, Archchancellor Ridcully, Vice-Chancellor Stibbons, the Librarian, the Senior Wrangler, Mrs. Whitlow and one terrified Between Maid

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sat around a table. The Archchancellor sat drumming his fingers and scowling while Stibbons read from the University Accounts.

3

Potnia

"According to her biography, Eskarina Smith did something similar during her trip to Ankh-Morpork. However, in her case, she had been given a wizard's staff by one Drum Billet, DM (Unseen), who, knowing that Mr. Smith was an eighth son and had seven sons with another child on the way, expected to turn his staff over to the newest wizard in the area. He had most of his facts correct but missed a vital one."

"Yes, yes, we know how that happened, Stibbons, but what has that t' do with this young lady?"

Ponder took off his glasses and polished them. It was a nervous habit he fell into whenever he was unsure about his next move, something that was happening more and more often now that he was officially named Vice-Chancellor.

"Potnia, how many older sisters do you have?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"S—Seven, your worship."

Stibbons swallowed and Ridcully's fingers stopped. The Librarian and the Senior Wrangler exchanged quizzical glances.

"And how many aunts?"

"Seven of those too, your worship."

"And great-aunts?"

"Only two of those, sir, but I've seven great-uncles."

Ponder reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out a portable thaumometer and pointed it at Potnia. The needle sung wildly from one side to the other. Ridcully raised an eyebrow, licked his index finger and held it up. Instead of the usual octarine glow, the aura around it was nearly blinding. The girl projected something that resembled a magical field at the near-Sourceror level—except when there seemed to be none at all. The Archchancellor put his hand down, carefully.

Leaning forward on his elbows he raised a finger to the girl with one hand and stroked his beard with the other. "Potnia, what is your last name?"

" 's a funny old name, your worship, Creatrix. Nobody know where it come from, though me ancestors is said to be from Ephebe, so maybe it's just forn."

*****

"Creatrix?" Hughnon Ridcully, Chief Priest of Blind Io very carefully set down the snifter of Quirmian brandy. "Female form o' Creator? Are y'serious, Mustrum? Are y'tellin' me that somehow we're dealin' with a demi-goddess or an avatar of a goddess?"

"Haven't a clue, Hughnon," the Archchancellor replied, refilling his glass, "It's why I brought her t'yer attention. Right now she's sleepin' peacefully

4

in one of the senior student rooms and we sent a note to Lady Cardigan tellin' her not to expect the lass to report for duty in the mornin'. I invoked the City Security clause in His Lordship's name t' make sure there'd be no blowback. All I know is that young Potnia's thaumic field runs a bit over five hundred thousand, except when it's zero. That's more than twice what anyone on the faculty has and we only get that high after years of study. She's a walkin' disaster, or somethin'."

4

he hoped!

"But yer say she radiates

magic

. That's hardly what we expect from a goddess. The deities require belief. Why even that weirdo yer told me about from Mono Island needed belief, even if 'twere his own. This poor gel doesn't realize what she is, if she's anythin', so yer could hardly expect her to be buildin' a temple and acquirin' parishioners. Unfortun'tely, we don't have a pistometer

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that we can used to measure belief. I really don't know what to tell yer."

5

Faith meter

Ridcully grimaced, "And I don't even know what t' ask except to suggest that yer come over for second breakfast tomorrow and observe the gel. Right now she's more or less under the care of Mrs. Whitlow. As a Between Maid she can be kept busy doin' familiar things so her mind doesn't wander into dangerous terr'tory. That's fine for now. Later? I just don't know."

*****

The Librarian was not an ape of suspicious nature. In general, he regarded his fellow primates at the University with benevolence and magnanimity so long as they weren't foolish enough to call him a monkey. However, there was something about Potnia that raised grave questions within his hairy skull and if there was one thing the Librarian was good at, it was research.

The morning after the conference with the Archchancellor, he left the running of the Library in the capable hands of Professor Ladislav Pelc, knuckled down a corridor, scrambled up a stack, slipped behind a collection of thick folios and stepped into L-Space.

To a Senior Librarian, one initiated into the mystery that is L-Space, time, distance and even the fabric of the Multiverse are as navigable as a calm bay. The Librarian had been to Ephebe once in the past to preserve some precious scrolls from the burning of the Ephebean Library by the Quisition of Vorbis. But somewhere in that vast trove of knowledge had to be another scroll, one that might unlock the enigma of Potnia. How could a teenage girl project an aura of incredible magical power while at the same time projecting nothing at all? If there was an answer, he would find it.

*****

In years past, contact between wizards and priests most often lead to fisticuffs, fireballs, lightning bolts and a lot of noise. But now that the positions of Head of All Magic and High Priest of Blind Io, Chief of Gods were filled by the two Ridcully brothers, the tension had diminished to the point of invisibility. Thus, while it was unusual for Hughnon to join Mustrum and the faculty at table, no one thought anything of it. The Archchancellor had invited him and that was all that need be said about the matter.

"So this gel has been cleanin' the Council Chambers?" Hughnon began.

"She has indeed, and once we're done with the steak and kidney pie I think we should take a tour. Mrs. Whitlow intimates that there's somethin' very special about the lass's technique, though she's playin' mum about what it might be. Lady Cardigan is not pleased that her favorite maid may not be returnin' and has promised to 'let her good friend the Patrician know what she thinks about it'."

Hughnon snorted. "Yer haven't advised her that the University has a whole pond full of people who've tried to get snippy with yer?"

"She still thinks it's illegal to turn civilians into frogs."

Hughnon shook his head at the hopelessness of some people. "Some folk really need to consider the diff'rence between a law and a guideline. By the way, this puddin' is especially good. Could yer have the cook send the recipe to my wife?"

"I'll send her over for a tutorial, if yer wish. She really is a treasure. When Miss Sugarbean ran off with Nutt we were quite at a loss in the kitchen. The other cooks were certainly competent but only with this new one have we started getting' pies at the Sugerbean standard." The conversation petered off into satisfied lip smacks and humming.

Later that morning, just before elevenses, the brothers Ridcully entered the University Council chamber. They stepped inside, took a deep breath and suddenly stared at each other in astonishment.

"The lass has made the place smell like a fine spring day in the country," Ridcully erupted, "How in the nine Hells did she do that? Norm'lly the place smells like tobacco smoke and stale beer."

"Potnia Creatrix. Mustrum, I'm gettin' a strange feelin' about this gel. If she ain't really magic and she ain't a demi-goddess, what can she possibly be?"

"Someone to be handled with great care, if yer ask me. I think we need to pay a visit to the Library."

*****

Professor Pelc saw the two most senior esoteric officials in the city approaching through the front doors. They were right on time. He rose from his seat at the main desk (after kicking the Librarian's blankets out of knee hole) and greeted the men with an outstretched hand.

"Archchancellor, High-Priest, the Librarian told me to expect you. Have a seat here in one of the private rooms, the orang should be with you momentarily."

No sooner were the Ridcully's seated when the Librarian stepped out of the wall beside them.

"Dammit, man, don't do that. Don'tcherknow how unsettlin' it is?" Not being a Senior Librarian, the Archchancellor's familiarity with L-Space was sketchy and having people appear and disappear inside the building irritated him. He probably wouldn't have minded if he could do it himself but got frustrated when others did things he couldn't.

The Librarian made a rude face in response and rolled out a scroll on the table. Written in ancient, hand-scribed Olde Ephebean, the text was a challenge to make out. But once deciphered, the answer was clear. There on a scroll so old and cracked as to be nearly illegible was the story of the birth, life and disappearance of Potnia Creatrix, the Disc Mother. It was she who brought life and renewal in the spring, who filled the fields with calves, lambs and piglets and who after a nasty spat with The Lady had walked out of Dunmanifestin and was never seen again. Whether she was a goddess, demi-goddess or anthropological manifestation was not clear but that she had enormous power, was!

The three wizards looked at each other in amazement. Her?

*****

A well-briefed Mrs. Whitlow sat down with Potnia after dinner in her grace-and-favor apartment with its door off one side of the University. She poured the girl a small sherry, sat her down in a chintz armchair and chatted amiably about life 'behind the scenes' until the young maid seemed at ease. Then she casually asked, "Potnia, hwhat do you think about hwhen you're cleaning?"

"Oh, Mrs. Whitlow, Oy thinks of the countryside. Oy'm not sure why 'cause I was born and reared 'ere in the City but some'ow the idea of green an' flars an' trees an' suchlike just puts me at ease an' makes the cleanin' go so much easier. An' Oy thinks of lambs an' calves an' chickies an' piglets an' shoots risin' up out th' ground. It don't make any sense, do it?"

Mrs. Whitlow sighed and looked at the lass fondly. "Oh, it makes a great deal of sense, my dear. Aye'm not sure how to put this, but the gentlemen suspect that there is a great deal more to you than ever you know. You said your family hwas from Ephebe. Does the countryside you imagine look like that?"

"Oy don't know, Mum, Oy've never been out of Ankh-Morpork. Oy don't know wot Ephebe look like."

"Hwell, don't worry your head about it, Potnia. Aye'm sure it hwill all become clear fairly soon."

*****

I DETECT A DISTURBANCE IN THE MULTIVERSE, ALBERT.

Death looked up from his tea.

I'M NOT SURE HOW QUITE TO HANDLE THIS. PERHAPS I WILL HAVE TO DISTURB MY GRANDDAUGHTER AGAIN. SHE WON'T APPRECIATE IT BUT DUTY, AS EVER, CALLS.

Miss Susan saw the last of her students out the door, straightened up the classroom and just before leaving opened her desk to take out a single chocolate. But when she opened the box there was a note across the remains of the assortment.

SEE ME

.

GRANDFATHER

Susan Sto Helit, stalked irritably between the overstuffed chairs full of overstuffed member of Fidgett's, a gentlemen's club so set in its ways as to be petrified. Women weren't allowed within its walls except between the hours of 3:15 and 4:30 and because they weren't allowed, any member who happened to see Susan ignored her because she couldn't be there.

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Eventually, she came to an open newspaper with a black robe and a pair of boney feet underneath.

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This is a common human response to many things.

"Well, what is it this time?"

Death put down the paper.

AH, SUSAN, ARE YOU WELL?

Death's granddaughter choked down a snapped reply, remembering that her Grandfather, having little contact with living humans, did occasionally have a fondness for small talk. "My career goes well. I get to see Time occasionally and the Death of Rats hasn't bothered me in the longest. So I have to say I am well. And you?"

Death took a few minutes to fold up the Times neatly and set it aside. He looked up at Susan with the glowing blue lights that passed for his eyes.

ONE OF US WHO WAS GONE HAS REAPPEARED. SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT SHE IS YET BUT HER POWER IS ALREADY AFFECTING THE DISC. IF SHE ISN'T PROPERLY INTRODUCED TO HER PLACE IN THINGS, IT COULD GET MESSY. THEN THE AUDITORS WILL NOTICE AND DECIDE TO 'STRAIGHTEN THINGS OUT'. THIS MUST NOT HAPPEN.

"What do you mean, 'one of us'. Another anthropomorphic personification? Someone half human and half not. And what has this to do with me?"

THE DISC MOTHER HAS REEMERGED AFTER CENTURIES.

"The—Disc Mother? Isn't she a goddess? How can she have disappeared?"

WHAT HER EXACT STATE OF BEING IS CAN BE DEBATED. WHAT IS UNDENIABLE IS THAT DESPITE BEING UNDETECTABLE, SHE HAS CONTINUED TO INFLUENCE ALL THINGS UNDER HER PURVEY. NOW, HOWEVER, SHE HAS ONCE AGAIN TAKEN PHYSICAL OR SEMI-PHYSICAL FORM. SHE HAS RETURNED TO THE WORLD. UNFORTUNATELY, SHE DOESN'T KNOW IT, YET. SOMEONE NEEDS TO TAKE HER IN HAND AND

GENTLY

BREAK THE NEWS TO HER SO THAT SHE MAY RETAKE HER PROPER STATUS IN THE NATURE OF THINGS. SHE IS, RIGHT NOW, QUITE YOUNG.

Quite young. Damn, her grandfather always knew just what it took to send her into action no matter how hard Susan wanted to resist.

"How young? Is the Disc Mother a small child?"

NO, SHE IS A MAIDEN. AT PRESENT SHE IS ALSO A MAID WORKING AT UNSEEN UNIVERSITY. YOU REMEMBER? YOU HAD BREAKFAST THERE ONCE. SEE THE ARCHCHANCELLOR. HE WILL BE GREATLY RELIEVED BY YOUR ARRIVAL.

*****

"Archchancellor?"

Ridcully looked up from his plate of sausage, eggs, tomatoes, black and white puddings and grilled mushrooms to see a slender young woman with startling white hair. There was a black streak running through it and she was dressed all in black. He smiled.

"Bless my soul. 'f it isn't Death's granddaughter! Do sit down an' join me. Most of the faculty is still asleep so it will be good to have someone intelligent t' talk to. As I recall y' prefer muesli for breakfast. We haven't any but I can recommend th' porridge. I don't have an appointment with your grandfather in the foreseeable future so what brings you here, if I may be so bold as t' ask?"

"My diet is much more varied these days so if you don't mind I'll help myself from the buffet and come back in a minute."

Returning with a more modest version of the Archchancellor's breakfast, Susan sat down across from him. She remembered the man. He'd been charming in a twinkly, grandfatherly way, quite different from her own grandfather. The meeting, while short, had been pleasant.

"Grandfather told me that you had someone, er, rather like me on staff? Someone who needed guiding into her proper place in the Multiverse?"

Ridcully swallowed a forkful of grilled mushrooms. "Ah, that would be young Potnia Creatrix. We were wonderin' what she is. Is the lass a lost goddess? I've never heard of a goddess gettin' lost b'fore."

"Potnia Creatrix? Is that her name or her title?"

Ridcully shrugged. "She says it's her name but it could well be her title. Suppos'dly her family emigrated here from Ephebe centuries ago but they still remember th' fact and hold t' th' old family name. All I'm sure 'bout her is that she has an enormous amount of power but don't know how to use it. However, if she is who I think, she is usin' it unconsciously. She says she daydreams of growin' things and baby animals and crops risin' out of the soil."

Susan put down her fork and leaned back in the chair. "Then she really is the Disc Mother—the personification of spring, rebirth and fertility of the Disc. Where has she been all these centuries?"

"No idea. All I know is that she's here, now. At this point we're keepin' her busy cleanin' and suchlike. It keeps her from gettin' distracted into things that upset folk. And our Housekeeper says that she daydreams o' the countryside and o' growin' things so m'guess is that she's actually doin' her duty without realizin' it. It's all very well in the short run but the lass needs to know herself, t' take up her proper position in the scheme o' things. Didjer grandfather send y' here t' help out?"