Enchantress 2 - Warrior Duchess

"G-G-Groin, son of Gloin."

"Groin Gloinson? I am Pommeraie de la Montesquieu Worblehat-Stein, the Duke of Wægn," and Nick threw the dwarf halfway across the river {which honestly wasn't very far}. "LET IT BE KNOWN THAT ALL LIVING BEINGS IN MY DUCHY ARE UNDER MY PROTECTION," Nick roared at the top of his lungs. "YOU ON THE OTHERHAND ARE GUESTS." He bent over getting right in the largest dwarf's face and said, "You are quickly wearing out your welcome."

Rifty Peregrine worked his way to the front of the group and started, "Your Grace, I'm sorry..."

"Yes you are," Nick said with a snarl. "I hold you responsible for enforcement of the laws of the Duchy of Wægn and one of your group shoots down the fair symbol of this kingdom the moment you step off the boat." He stood and looked around at the angry mob of dwarves and he fought the urge to turn into a dragon and end this entire charade. He pointed toward the dwarf splashing in the river and said, "Thanks to that one bolt fired by Groin, son of Gloin, all hunting on, around, and under Bear Mountain is forbidden. And for you this now includes hunting of any sort in all of Lancre."

"No hunting?" Rifty sputtered then fumed, "How are we supposed to feed these dwarves?"

"You should have thought of that before allowing that idiot to shoot down a Lancre Black Eagle."

"A what?" asked a dwarf next to Rifty. Nick guessed it was an emancipated female dwarf that asked the question, she was wearing eye makeup.

"The king's favorite bird and the symbol of the country," groaned Rifty. He briefed the Dwarves on that bird several times as they traveled through the high country. Do NOT shoot any eagle, especially a black eagle with a black beak and black talons.

"You're lucky the court wizard was in the area, she will be able to heal the eagle," Nick produced a black feather and considered it. "Anyone found hunting from this work party will cause termination of the contract and expulsion."

"How do you expect me to feed these dwarves?" squawked Rifty.

"I don't care," said Nick. "I stuck my neck out for you dwarves and you do this to me, and you haven't even started to dig. Now I have to report this to the king and plead for that idiots life. I have bigger things to worry about because I may have to come back and execute him. Maybe I can convince a farmer to sell you a few cows but to be honest, I'm really regretting letting this happen." He waved his hand toward the barge that was tied up to shore and walked off. A moment later a wave came down river and lifted the barge snapping the few lines that was holding it in place and washed the barge down river along with Groin, son of Gloin.

Chaos ensued and the collected dwarves raced after their runaway barge which still had several dwarves on board. Rifty Peregrine threw up his hands and shrugged and turned back to Nick, but he had disappeared into the woods.

It was a long hike back to the cottage but Gaspode led the wounded deer and Gula provided a rear guard "falling" from tree to tree. Being a magical gargoyle, she could fall like any other gargoyle with the added magical ability to fall in any direction including straight up. It was good for Nick that she was there, the site manager, Rifty Peregrine, sent a small squad of dwarfs to stop Nick from reporting the shoot-down to the king. Gula would hang from a tree branch waiting for the squad and she would fall and take the rear dwarf out one by one, then she would fall back up to a perch and wait for the diminished squad. Even though they didn't realize that they weren't chasing a man the dwarves continued to give chase. Four became three, then two, then one, then pursuit was over, but the long hike was far from over.

Finally, long after sunset a bedraggled, bloody Nick staggered up to the cottage and collapsed in a rocking chair on the porch. His left side was covered in blood, his left arm held up by a sling fashioned from vines. "Get momma," he gasped and with a yelp of fear Gaspode dashed into the cottage and came back with Octavia.

"Oh no! What happened?" she cried as he handed her a bolt from a cross bow.

"I met the new neighbors," groaned Nick as he peeled off his blood soaked shirt and Octavia took off the bloody bandage that he had fashioned after crashing to earth. "I was watching from above getting ready to welcome them to Lancre and someone decided to take a shot at a Lancre black eagle. It went downhill from there."

"Oh my gods, how did you survive the fall?"

"I aimed for a bend in the river and splashed down there. Luckily eagles don't weigh a lot so I didn't hit the river bottom."

Octavia used a spell to enhance healing as she stitched his wound closed, "There's going to be no flying for you for a while," she said as she wrapped a bandage around his arm to protect the stitches. "You know, I'm getting quite adept at sewing you back together."

"Are you saying that you are becoming an Igor?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," she laughed as she sat down on his lap.

"Luckily there's only 2 babies waiting for me, and they're not due until late autumn," said nick with a sigh. He held up two fingers and smiled. When he started as the witch in the local area he did nothing but deliver babies. Delivering babies is probably the most demanding task that the healer of the area has to perform because it is the most visible, and back in the mountain woods, pre-natal care is nearly unheard of.

"I think your count is off," said Octavia.

"No, there's Sheila and Lars Johengen, and Heather and Liam Breen." but Octavia took Nick's hand and straightened out his fingers and placed his hand on her tummy.

"There's Octavia and Nick Worblehat-Stein," she said with a gentle smile. She could tell that Nick felt the little spark of life growing in her womb by the look of amazement in his eyes. "If it's a boy I would like to name him Marlon, in Quirm it means "Young Eagle."

How did I miss that? Nick asked himself, but he knew the answer. After Death took their first just weeks after she became noticeable in her mother's womb, he stopped looking. And now here it is! A child growing in her womb, a child to love and raise and teach and... and... Nick gave his lover a deep, joyful kiss then said what was foremost in his heart, "I have no idea how to raise a child."

"Then we have some research to do," said Octavia, "because I was hoping you knew."

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Olaf Peregrine looked over the dispatches from Lancre again, this was getting out of hand, nearly fifteen thousand dollars in fines and fees and they're barely a quarter mile into the bedrock. Most of the fines were from cutting trees! He slammed the dispatches down on the desk and groaned. That's on top of what they're spending on food. The local farmers are driving up prices and hunting fines are making it an expensive proposition to feed a group of dwarves that were budgeted to live off the land. "We are never going to recoup the cost of this project!" complained Olaf.

"Don't complain to me," his business partner of over sixty years, Ringgold Aegir, snapped. "We decided that this was worth it regardless of the cost and now we're starting to see what the cost is." Ringgold saw the value of their final goal but was always leery of the costs entailed, but the chance to usurp Blodwen Rhysdottir and put an actual Low King on the Low Throne is priceless.

"I have half of our crew dividing up mine tailings and carrying trash across the river where it can be burned without the duke getting irate."

"Let one grass fire get out of hand and you never hear the end of it," grumbled Ringgold.

"There's no gold, no iron, not even any tin under this mountain, we are going to be bankrupt long before we reach it."

"Are you having doubts, because I have an idea that will cut costs and erase out liabilities," grinned Ringgold.

Olaf recognized that grin, most often that grin meant some underhanded deed that would profit Peregrine and Aegir Mining, but now Olaf doesn't see any profit in it. He knows what Ringgold is thinking and this may cost more than they expected...

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It was late but that is meaningless in Ankh-Morpork, in fact more money changes hands after sunset in Ankh-Morpork than during legitimate business hours, and some of that money has been rumored to change hands voluntarily. In the offices of the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork a dwarf waited nervously outside the office of Havelock Vetinari. He had gone to the offices of the Assassin's Guild but when they saw his request, he was sent to the Patrician's office due to the nature of his request.

The dwarf named Axemir Stronginthehead sat waiting for a nine o'clock appointment with the patrician, and even though the turmoil of the office was quite robust it failed to entertain Axemir. He was the newly promoted Executive Vice President for Project Advancement of Peregrine and Aegir Mining, and Axemir was used to office turmoil, but he missed the sound of pickaxe striking rock. Nine o'clock came and went and still he wasn't called into the office, but Stuart la Fountaine, Patrician Vetinari's secretary came up to Axemir and informed him that the appointment had been moved to 10:00.

Again, the appointment time came and went so Axemir went to Mr. la Fountaine and asked about his appointment and Stuart replied, "Did I fail to mention it was scheduled for ten PM? That's in eleven and a half hours. Please stay nearby if there's an opening we will call you." Disappointed Axemir went back to his seat and the only time he got up was to use the midden, and sure enough, while using the facilities he heard the distant call, "Mister Stronginthehead? Mister Stronginthehead?" {In any queue situation it never fails}

Finally, at 10:35 PM Axemir Stronginthehead was escorted into the Patricians' huge office where he stood at the desk of the most powerful politician on the Disc "If it pleases you, yer honor, the assassins guild sent me here, they claim that my request must be approved by you."

"Does it now... let's review your application, shall we? Hmmm Magic User? That is incorrect, you marked No, but the answer is certainly Yes..."

"I apologize yer holiness; I was not advised..."

"And here where it asks if he has any pets... he most certainly does..."

"Forgive me yer magnificence..."

"And here where you listed his occupation as a book seller... tsk tsk tsk"

"But yer formidable-ness, I didn't see where any of this..."

"A common tragedy..." The way the patrician dragged out the word "tragedy" gave Axemir Stronginthehead the feeling that he was going to appear in a tragedy himself. {He was, of course, correct}

Havelock wrote for a long time on a separate piece of parchment then folded up the original inhumation request {to exhume someone is to take them out of a grave, to inhume is to put someone in a grave. The Assassins' Guild never says kill or murder, they say inhume} and sealed it with wax and his signet ring and handed it to Axemir Stronginthehead. "It is now all in order, please take it to the Assassins' Guild."

"Thank you sir, are they open?"

"They never close," said the Patrician as he went back to reviewing a document. After a pause the Patrician noticed that Axemir was still there. "Do not let me detain you." That statement was a lot less pleasantry and a lot more threat.

A few moments later Stuart La Fountaine stepped into the office and without looking up from his document Havelock signaled for him to close the door. "I have several messages that need to go out on the clacks. Urgently." And he handed his notes to his secretary.

la Fountaine glanced at the notes and said, "you're conferring with concerned parties about an inhumation contract? The Assassin's Guild guarantees one hundred percent confidentiality."

"WE are not the Assassin's Guild," said Havelock Vetinari. "Sometimes the completion of a contract would cause more issues than it resolves, so Lord Downey and I both review the more complex contracts before they are accepted to see if action needs to be taken before said acceptance. We often give the customer a chance to reconsider their plans."

"So, we're the good guys? Bad guys? I don't understand."

Vetinari sighed, every time he gets a new secretary he has to retrain him. "I believe you find that life can be complicated, and that is because you think that there are good people and there are bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only bad people, some of them are on opposite sides."

At the Assassins' Guild Axemir Stronginthehead handed the papers given to him by the Patrician over to Lord Downey, the master of the Assassins' Guild. "Ah, Mister Stronginthehead, are you sure that you wish to have this contract acted upon?"

"Yes, as soon as possible," said Axemir.

Lord Downey scribbled on a sheet of paper and finally said, "That will be three hundred seventy four thousand nine hundred fifty Ankh-Morpork dollars per target. You said you wanted them both inhumed, since they are both royalty and both magic users... Seven hundred forty nine thousand, nine hundred dollars."

"Seven hundred ---- Three hundred---- I was told five hundred each would cover it!"

"Oh, for the average person here in Ankh-Morpork, yes five hundred per target would be the going rate..." Lord Downy looked at the collected data and continued, "it says here that your male target started in the gutter. Now if he had remained the gutter we could have completed this for you for two hundred dollars." Lord Downey showed Axemir a chart with a series of numbers and social positions. "As you can see as he advanced in stature, became a magic user, then he married a magic user our costs escalate, plus they are in a different country, so mileage is included, foreign exchange, lodging for the contract holder... but here is the big expense, your targets are now members of the court of an allied nation, that's regicide, and that costs extra... a lot extra."

"No, forget it, we can't afford that..."

"Look, you got a fifty dollar discount on each because they're from Ankh-Morpork, that's our Home-Town Home-Boy discount..."

"No, forget the whole idea, we'll deal with it ourselves."

"If you insist, but we are professionals... satisfaction guaranteed, always discreet."

"No, forget it."

"The customer is always right," said Lord Downey, "sign here to acknowledge that you refuse the contract, but I have to let you know that I cannot cancel this other contract."

"What other contract?" demanded the dwarf as he scribbled his signature.

"This is a conditional contract that provides cover for the Assassins' Guild especially in these regicide cases, they can get so messy... if the target of the primary contract becomes inhumed for any reason at all then this second contract mandates that the contractor, which is you, is inhumed immediately after the inhumation of the target, that way the "wet work" as we call it can't be traced back to us."

"I cancelled the other contract! I didn't pay the money!" sputtered the terrified dwarf.

"There's no extra charge. Don't let me detain you Mister Stronginthehead," and Lord Downey snapped his fingers. Four men in black surrounded Axemir and "escorted" him {In some universes being carried via an "atomic wedgie" {by the underwear waistband} is considered being escorted} out of the building.

It was raining when Axemir was dumped on the sidewalk, which is another thing that Dwarves hate about being above ground {it rarely rains in a mine two miles under the surface of the disc, and if it does you're in Big Trouble} but he struggled to his feet and ran through town as fast as he could go until he reached the nearest Clacks office. "I need to send a message fast."

"That's how we do things here sir! Lightning fast!" said the overeager teenage clerk working the third shift at the Clacks office.

Axemir scribbled out the address to the mining camp then wrote out the note:

PROFESSIONAL HELP UNAVAILABLE

EAGLE DROP IS NOGO

AXEMIR

"That's going to take twelve hours at the fastest," said the smiling pimple face teen. "It will be there in Lancre in a few minutes but then it will have to go overland..."

"Yes, I understand. Just as long as it gets there." Axemir threw far too much money on the counter and disappeared into the night. He would next be seen in Schmaltzberg, home of the largest dwarven community on the disk and he was seen heading into the Glory Pit, deepest mine in all of dwarvendom.

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Nick and Octavia walked through the village of Creel Springs arm in arm chatting with the village folk as they took a break from their daily routine at the bookstore. Leaving Gaspode and Gula, the Duke's Guard, to watch the shop, the young couple wandered up and down Main Street, a routine that a wizard in Octavia's condition needs to maintain. Nick was trying to confirm a rumor he had heard that the Lancre Army would occasionally rape the women of Lancre as they went out on maneuvers.

As they walked along Side Street, a street that parallels the stream that flows out of the mill pond, they ran into Homlette and Ophilia d'Marhk, the first residents of Creel Springs that they met. While Octavia took Ophilia off to talk about canning vegetables for the winter, Nick spoke to Homlette about his time in the army.

"Mister d'Marhk," started Nick nervously, "I've heard some rumors about the Lancre Army having their way with women here in Tallywiffle County. I know it's hard to believe but..."

"You best believe it," said Homlette. "I was a leftenant when King Borachio III brought in a young colonel Carnarvon from Borogravia, he was serving in the Muntab region and the way you showed your people your strength was by assaulting their women." Poor old Homlette looked nauseated over the memories that Nick had stirred up.

"Sir, I'm sorry I brought up these memories, I apologize," sputtered.

"I resigned right after that, Carnarvon said that's how you separate the men from the boys."

"Did you...? I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry," said Nick.

"Yes I did," said Homlette staring into the stream.

"What happened to the girl?"

Homlette gave Nick a strange look and said, "Well I married her! Wouldn't be right riding into town and rapin' the women and wandering off now would it?"

Nick threw his arm over Homlette's shoulders and said, "You're a good man Mr. d'Marhk, I'm proud to be here with you."

When Nick caught up with Octavia he found that Ophilia had the same story as Homlette, and he vowed to continue to ask as he met folks.

It seemed to be a busy day in Creel Springs, the watermill was churning, the cobbler had all of his doors and windows open and he was working on a new horse collar for a local farmer. The cobbler, Harry Newman, was better called a leather smith. He could craft anything given the proper piece of cowhide, from lederhosen to footwear, from horse saddle to horse bridal, he could make it all. He was also a fair hand as a cooper and when jobs in leather was slow he'd throw together a few barrels. There's always someone looking for a new barrel.

Next to Harry's Cobbler Shopee was the Creel Springs Emporium, a tiny but crucial little general store where the necessities of life could be found for the people of Creel Springs and the farmers around the area. So far all Octavia needed to buy was sugar, flour, salt, mason jars, and sealing rings for the jars but Nick needed to get some penny candy for the children that were brought to him.