Tales from the Guilds Ch. 04

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 smile¹. He enjoyed innate suspicion.

¹Or 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 incipient² 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.

²Or 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

³And 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?"

"I'm not rich! My father got swindled by the Grand Trunk and my mother spent all the rest of our money on swamp dragons. My guardian enrolled me here so I could earn a living. She thinks I'm too soft-hearted to be an Assassin."

That brought Taffy up short. She blinked in confusion and opened her mouth three times before any words would come out. A nob without money simply didn't fit into her worldview. It was like fish without chips⁴.

⁴Or a hot dog without mustard.

"Yer haven't any money? Really not any money?"

Cedric nodded miserably. He could feel it coming. Things never worked out for him. Just when life started to take a turn for the better, if fell off the edge.⁵

⁵No, he is not related to Professor Rincewind. Really, he isn't.

"Aoowww, now. 'at's 'orrid. Why, even our ma'am has a bit put by and she's but a washerwoman. O'course, havin' me auntie work for Mrs. Palm and sharin' the profit do help. But don't you worry none, Cedric, lad. The Guild takes care of its own and wit' yer nat'ral toff-ness Oy'm sure yer'll make a fine gent'lman burglar and soon be back on top of the world."

Taffy patted him consolingly on the shoulder as the break ended and they went back to practicing on the belled manikins.⁶

⁶Belled manikins were real. Professional pickpockets used them to teach their children the craft.

*****

As time passed Cedric moved more and more confidently into his assigned role. Mr. Moody, M. de Balourd and Miss Band were all detached occasionally from the Assassins' Guild to help with his and the few other young, impoverished gentry's education. Grooming, Dance and Deportment and possibly most important, Climbing and Traps were driven into the young folk until they were fully the equal of any in the more lethal organization.⁷

⁷But without all the sharp points and edges.

The high point, though, was when Mr. Lammister stopped by one evening with a set of dark green striped jumpers and knit trousers. He had them put the garments on and took them all up onto the roof where the reason for the exercise became apparent. At night deep green is invisible.

"It's one of the discoveries Lord Vetinari made," Mr. Lammister explained, "though it isn't of great use to the Assassins. By custom their only permitted colors are black, which is stylistically preferred, dark grey and deep purple or navy blue. Green is simply not done! However, for a burglar easing through a darkened house it is possibly ideal, once you have reconnoitered while properly dressed. Never insult the home owner by appearing in slovenly clothing!"

By the time he was fourteen, Cedric was fully convinced that he could get into almost any residence in the city, relieve it of any loose coin or jewelry and make good his escape. Of course, he would never need to. Everyone understood, paid their premiums, arranged to be robbed when most convenient and went on about their business secure in the knowledge that once they did, any further attempts on their belongings would meet with the full measure of the Guild's vengeance. Unlicensed theft was punishable by death—eventually.

*****

One evening a couple of years later, Mr. Boggis and Alphonse Ludd (the Guild's Treasurer) looked soberly down at a ledger. The information on it was not good news.

"Yer mean t' tell me that Aurumfer⁸ Lavish would rather pay for bodyguards and booby-traps to keep us out than a simple annual payment and an appropriat'ly respectful appointment?"

⁸ "Gold bearer"

" 'Struth, Mr. Boggis. Makes no sense to me but 'at's 'ow it goes. 'e's really thumbin' 'is nose at us, 'e is. Claims it's a matter of principle, not payin' his premiums, even if it do cost him more in the short run, 'e says."

Josiah Boggis scowled and began to tap his foot ominously. This would never do. The reputation and the respect of the Guild was at stake here. Why if more of Ankh-Morpork's wealthy were to take the same position, the Guild might have to resort to actual theft to maintain appearances.

"Thinks 'e's savin' money, does 'e? Oy believe we need t' disabuse 'im of 'at notion. Summon t' Inner Council. We'll meet in secret and discuss our options.

*****

The next morning Havelock Vetinari read the transcript of that meeting with mild interest. He fully approved. Since crime was unavoidable, it should at least be organized and he was pleased to see that the Thieves' Guild was moving to organize its response. After all, that was their job. And it was most satisfying that it was again the Lavish family who were to find themselves on the pointy end of Guild displeasure. He thought it strange that they never seemed to catch on but there is just no helping some people. Experience was a harsh teacher.

"Today's crossword, milord?" Drumknott enquired unfolding the Times on the Patrician's desk.

Vetinari looked down and then sniffed in disgust. "This isn't today's, Drumknott, it's exactly the same as the fifteenth of Ick in the Year of the Spinning Mouse. I do hope Ms. Speaker isn't ill. The city needs her. How else am I to entertain myself? Send one of the clerks down to her pet shop to make sure."

Drumknott nodded and silently disappeared.

*****

At a business lunch at Le Foie Heureux the same week Lord Downey heard the news from Mr. Boggis. He frowned into his wine glass.

"You know, Mr. Boggis, I think this is even more serious than you know. The Guild structure in this city, in its current state, is a creation of Lord Vetinari. Your own, especially, is a cornerstone of the city's operation. Anything that attacks the well-being of the Guilds attacks the city and, by extension, the Patrician. His Lordship can deal with those who, like Lavish's cousin Cosmo, believe that they have become the Patrician. The Lady Sybil Hospital has an entire ward devoted to those poor souls. Likewise, he can deal⁹ with anyone who attempts a more direct approach at replacing him.¹⁰ But this is no mere attempt to become the new Patrician; this is an attack on the very foundations of our civilization. It is also not good for business. May I suggest that not just our two but the entire Guild Council act in response?"

⁹Rather more harshly

¹⁰The cemetery behind the Temple of Small Gods has an entire field devoted to them!

"Weeeell now, Oy'm not sure the entire council should be involved. 'Oo knows what those silly Alchemists would do¹¹. 'Owever, a few select Guild masters probably should be consulted."

¹¹ Besides blow themselves up.

Downey nodded solemnly in agreement.

Two nights later a chosen few Guild Masters and the best burglary students met in the Thieves' Guild inner sanctum. Molly, Queen of the Beggars, has sent down a message to one of their preferred architect's firms and had received a plot layout, floor plan and elevation of the Lavish home.¹² Various opinions as to the proper mode of approach were made until finally Cedric hesitantly spoke up.

¹²Owned, through a chain of holding and investment companies, by the Beggars!

"Why not just go through the abandoned coal chute?" he asked.

Every eye in the room¹³ turned his way.

¹³ Except his, naturally.

"Abandoned coal chute?" Mr. Boggis enquired skeptically.

"Mm-hm. It's right there in the basement, behind the rhododendron screen. I used to use it a lot to play hide-and-seek and to spy on the neighbor lady when she was 'playing games' with the postman. Of course that all stopped when the postman was replaced with a golem."

The room was silent for a long minute.

"You used t' live in 'at house, milord Cedric?"

"Yessir. Up until I was ten."

Smiles and the occasional raised eyebrow blossomed around the room.

"So there's no great need for you t' case the place, Master Sto Kennet?" One could almost see the wheels in Mr. Boggis' head turning.

"I don't know, sir. That was, after all, eight years ago. They could have changed the interior a lot since then."

"Not wit'out gettin' themselves in a heap o' legal trouble," Twitchin' Fred, the Beggars' Guild representative spoke up. "That 'ouse is Guild property and any changes to it 'ave to be approved by t' Guild. All they're allowed to do is move the furniture and change the paint. If they 'ad done any construction it would be noted as an addendum to the plans."

"And that would include putting in a wall safe or some such?" Mr. Boggis asked.

"Oh, sir, there would be no need to do that," said Cedric, "in my father's—uh, Mr. Lavish's office there's a big picture frame on hinges with a wall safe behind it. The combination used to be my mother's birthday."

All eyes turned to Mr. Keyes of the Locksmiths' Guild.

"Nope," he answered, "there's been no request to change that combination since the Lavish's moved in. He's a lazy blighter, is Aurumfer, and a skinflint as well. I would be mightily surprised if the combination isn't the same it was when the Sto Kennets lived there. Hmpf, why the front and back door locks haven't even been changed."

Mr. Boggis smiled unpleasantly. "I do believe," he growled, "that a game is afoot."

*****

Havelock Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, read the most recent reports from his agents within the guilds and smiled. Things were working out as he intended. The Guilds were taking matters in hand as they should, he thought. The question was less whether he was Patrician or someone else¹⁴. The question was what was good for business and, by extension, for the city. The Lavish's would be brought to heel. Business would go on as it should and, with any luck, he wouldn't have to have anyone killed.¹⁵

¹⁴Not that he had any intention of leaving the job

¹⁵ Or, at least, not too many people killed.

*****

For years the Thieves' Guild had insisted that a proper thief should be dressed like one. That meant, in the case of burglars, that a black mask, stocking cap and striped sweater with bag labeled 'swag' were requis. However, such garments didn't seem appropriate for gentleman burglars. And so Mr. Cutter from the Guild of Cutters, Tailors and Needlewomen was called in for consultation.

"Hmm," he muttered rubbing his chin, "This presents a challenge, doesn't it? If Lord Cedric were pick the lock on the front door and let himself in that way, a proper sack suit with cravat and bowler hat would do. However, if he intends to let himself in more surreptitiously then clothing with more freedom of movement is advisable."