More Tales From the Guilds, Ch 31

"Happy birthday, Meredith," Acicula Rust greeted her five-year-old daughter with a wink, "and because you're getting so big, Daddy and I have decided that it's time for you to get a new bed. And I think you will like the 'special feature' this one has."

"How can a bed have a special feature, Mommy?"

"You'll see after the party. So right now you need to change into something you won't feel bad about spilling cake and ice cream all over."

It was a fine birthday party, at least from the standpoint of a family of Assassins. A clown had made an entire zoo full of balloon animals, an apprentice limner painted all manner of flowers on small faces, a birthday cake (liquorish, of course, because it's black) and gallons of ice cream had been washed down with root beer. Finally all the guests went home and Acicula escorted Meredith upstairs to see her new bed. It was, well, a new bed. Nothing to get excited about, there, until Meredith was told to look underneath.

"Hello, Meredith" a deep voice sounded from beneath a pair of green, glowing, slant-pupiled eyes.

"A Bogey? Mommy, you got me a Bogey, like the one in the book? Oh, Mommy!" Meredith got on her hands and knees and crawled under the bed just as fast as her pink little body could move. She rushed into the Bogey's arms, ran her face against its furry chest and giggled uncontrollably.

Finally she sort of 'came up for air'. "Bogey, what's your name?"

"My name is Mendel, sweetheart."

"And you're gonna live under my bed? Forever?"

"I'm going to live under your bed at least until you grow up. But when you get to be a mommy, I'll move under your baby's bed. I'll be around for a long time Meredith, so I can take care of you."

Meredith flushed brighter pink with delight and snuggled in closer, wrapped in shovel-sized hands.

Acicula smiled. The Bogey Under My Bed had been Meredith's fourth birthday present and the child had loved it to tatters over the last year. She wasn't the only one. It was the most popular children's book in the Sto Plains and Bogeys were the most requested birthday or Hogswatch 'present' in the entirety of the lands around the Circle Sea. But Bogeys are sapient beings, not animals, so they have to be hired instead of purchased and only wealthy families could afford one. However, that set Acicula thinking. What if Bogeys could be shared, for a given value of sharing? Once little Meredith was asleep, her mother and Mendel would have to have a heart to heart talk.

*****

There was only a single candle in the living room of the Rust family mansion because Acicula knew how light-adverse Bogeys are. And when she wanted to talk to Mendel, she tried to maintain as warm and pleasant an atmosphere as she could. After all, the Bogey was going to be her daughter's friend and nanny for the rest of her life and probably for the rest of her descendants' lives as well. Making the Bogey unhappy would make Meredith unhappy and it would not end well.

"Mendel, dear," she began, "you are really just the most precious find. Meredith is so utterly charmed that you are all she talks about. I don't know what you say to her before she falls asleep but the periodic tantrums she used to throw have utterly vanished. My fairly normal little girl has turned into a veritable angel. Thank you so much."

The Bogey gave a deep chuckle. "Meredith is as charming as she is charmed. I believe that children her age throw tantrums mostly because they are either very tired, frustrated or both. All I have done is encourage her to express her wants and then we can talk about why she didn't get them when she wanted them. Of course, sometimes she really doesn't know what she wants. This is not uncommon in the little ones. Getting her to examine those unidentified desires is the first step toward self-realization, a goal all beings should strive for. Of course, since the mite is only five years old, self-realization is a very long-term goal and one she will spend years developing. But at least we are beginning that path. She will get there eventually."

"With your help, I'm sure she will. However, Mendel, I am a bit concerned. Om tells us that we should care for each other and while my husband's family says this is a metaphor, I believe that He means it. Certainly the Prophet Brutha writes that He does and it strikes me that society would be improved if more children could have guidance like yours. The problem is that your folk are mostly nocturnal and children need to be asleep at night. Have you any ideas about how this dilemma can be resolved?"

"Milady Rust, Professor Ogg solved the problem we have with daylight. Her Darkness Cans are pretty much universal among the Bogeys these days but the question is, how will small children react to a great dark void that talks? Without meeting us individually, I'm not sure how to overcome their anxiety."

Acicula drummed her fingers on the candlestand. "Yes, you have put your finger on the crux of the matter. I would love to see a charitable daycare center for the children of the less fortunate run by Bogeys but the details, ah the details! I will discuss this with my women's group at the temple. Perhaps some of the more imaginative ladies can develop a solution."

*****

At Unseen University, the Marquess of Quire, Lord Samuel Vimes-Ramkin, DM (Unseen) and his bride Lady Lethality Vimes-Ramkin (neé Wiggs) came through his Door from their honeymoon and returned to his official apartment, followed by two Kh'olli dogs and a mated pair of swamp dragons. Having spent the last two weeks on an uninhabited tropical beach, both Sammy and Li sported all-over golden tans and extremely satisfied expressions. Madame Goatfounder's Buckaroo Drops had more than lived up to their reputation.

Li nuzzled Sammy's arm and looked up at him. "You are going to have to start buying that stuff by the case, my love. However, I suspect that we will need to line the master bedroom with tapestries. Either that or buy me a thick gag!"

"Well, yeah, you were pretty noisy back on the island. Since there was no one to disturb but the pets, it wasn't a problem but once we're moved into Crundell's checking the adjoining rooms and the hall for eavesdroppers sounds like a good idea. I'm sure you wouldn't care but I suspect that at least some of the more elderly staff might be scandalized, though the younger ones would likely just giggle."

"Some aristocrats might invite the cuter maids to join in."

Sammy threw a mildly annoyed look at this new wife. "That would be some other aristocrats, minx. I've looked through the family records and there isn't a single reference to anything resembling any droit du seigneur claimed by any of the Ramkins. I've got you and you're all I need."

"Smart man," the graduate Assassin murmured, "now let's catch the train for Crundell's."

*****

While Sammy and Li were riding to Quirm, Wolfe Woodbead and his bride Passionette (neé Selachii) were cruising on an upscale flying carpet back to the family chateau. Construction of a suitable maison had begun just as soon as the senior Woodbeads had been informed of their son's betrothal--by their future daughter-in-law. It seems that poor Wolfie, however prominent he was to become as co-director of the Sto Plains Agro-mancy Research Station, would somehow find his life essentially run by the women around him. Fortunately even his previously annoying little sister, Aranae, had joined his new wife and his mother Sinestra in making sure that his way through the world was smooth and upwardly mobile. He has become convinced that all he has to do is manage the magic and they would benevolently manage him. Go, he thought, with the flow.

*****

"Darlings!" Mrs. Stibbons exclaimed when her son and his bride finally returned from Lancre, "how is married life agreeing with you?"

Penelope smiled very broadly and answered, "Mama, your son is a man among men. When I first arrived at Unseen, the Archchancellor told Connie and his friends that their most important assignment was to keep me smiling and happy. By being sweet and making me laugh he has done just exactly that. And my great-grandmother's 'advice for new husbands'? Wheee! Madame Goatfounder's Buckaroo Drops really live up to their hype. He's completely run out, though, though so where is the nearest witch? We need a refill."

Mrs. Stibbons beamed. When he was growing up, she worried a little about her eldest. He'd always been so slim and delicate-looking. Fortunately spending his first decade or so climbing the family nut trees and swinging from the branches had turned him from delicate to wiry. He still wasn't very tall but now his frame was overlaid with cords of sinew. Additionally he was a hedge wizard and had been appointed co-director of the Sto Plains Agro-mancy Research Station, not to mention having married probably the most dangerous young woman in the entire region--who simply doted on him. Now all Mrs. Stibbons wanted was grandchildren and from her new daughter-in-law's happy blushes, she might not have long to wait.

*****

Looking down from the heights of the Research Station's Marsidis Binz carpet, Passionette was enchanted by the view of Chateau Woodbead. Neat rows of vines surrounded two large comfortable-looking, red tile roofed houses and a small village of servants' quarters. It was, she thought, bucolic, perhaps even idyllic. As the carpet descended she turned to her new husband.

"Wolfie, it's so beautiful. Growing up in the Ankh-Morpork I never realized how pretty the countryside was. No wonder you wanted to come back. I was afraid it might be a little dull? But dull it isn't! If I ever get bored, all I need to do is pick up my watercolors and brushes and--I could spend the rest of my life here and never run out of subject matter."

"Wait until you see it in mid-Spring when all the ground between the vines is alive with wildflowers. The Marquis du Aix-en-Pains says that smart growers always let the flowers bloom and not cut them down until the heads are spent. He says that letting the wildflowers decompose in place fertilizes the soil and makes the vines grow stronger. When I checked with them, the vines certainly agreed. And then in the fall the leaves, oh the leaves! White wine varietals turn aspen yellow and the reds can be anything from deep burgundy to flaming scarlet, depending on the kind. The view from the front patio is worth a million dollars, by itself. I'm so glad to be home."

*****

In the wee hours of the morning Bernard Ludorum carefully opened a second floor window on the side of the Rust's Ankh-Morpork mansion and slowly eased in. The commission on Lord Rust was a substantial one and he came from a family that had produced its share of very skilled Assassins over the centuries. That made it a bit strange that getting into the house was comparatively easy. Perhaps this fact should have caused Bernard to think a bit harder before taking the commission. If Lord Rust was so good at the same set of skills, why was it not harder to enter? Foresight, though, is a rare human talent and so the Assassin eased into the senior Rust's bedroom and approached the bed cautiously and in silence. However, he had reached no further than the halfway mark when one shovel sized hand grabbed both his feet and another wrapped around his head and lifted him off the floor.

"I don't know who you are," a very deep voice muttered, "but you don't belong here. Now I want you to contemplate just how easy it would be for me to twist you like a wet towel or pop off your head like the cork from a beer bottle."

Bernard felt himself turned in the air and found himself looking into a pair of large, green, slant-pupiled eyes. By all the gods, he thought in terror, it's a Bogey. This is unfair. They should have posted a sign or a window sticker saying, BOGEY INSIDE.

"Now", Mendel continued, "I'm going to be merciful, this time! I'm simply going to take you back to the window and toss you out. Should you ever show up again, though, I will make good on my threat and wring the life out of you--and I might just take my time at it. So you go back to the Guild and let them know that this house is doubly protected--and will be for generations to come. I presume you understand--so out you go!"

A two story drop onto a manicured lawn is rarely fatal, especially for one who keeps in fighting trim, as any sensible Assassin should. But even landing on his feet was a shock and Bernard knew he would be bruised and limping for the next day or two. But at least he was still alive and in one piece. Normally when an Assassin fails an inhumation that is not the case. On those occasions when some overly ambitious lad had tried to collect the AM$1,000,000 fee for the Patrician, they were neither seen nor even heard about thereafter. That was one reason why that assessment was in abeyance.

Bernard staggered away and limped back to the Guild. Warn the others? He certainly would! This new fashion for hiring Bogeys to live under sleeping children's beds was definitely throwing a curveball into the City's various ways to commit suicide. Lord Rust doubtless knew that he could sleep more peacefully from here on out, cheating scoundrel that he was, Bernard thought.

*****

Around Lord Downy's conference table, the entire Guild faculty sat reading Mr. Ludorum's report. The mood was somber, and yet...

"Milord Downey," Mr. Mericet hissed, "I am not sure that this is quite the problem that young Ludorum believes. While it is certain that those members of society most likely to attract the professional attention of the Guild members are the ones most able to retain the services of a Bogey, the majority of them are well past the age likely to have children young enough to insist on having one under their bed."

"I disagree," responded Miss Band, "According to Professor Ogg, once a Bogey moves under the bed of a young person, they will stay there until that child attains majority, marries and produces children of their own. At that point, the Bogey simply moves from the original 'owner' to the next generation and remains with the family for many generations to follow. They become 'old family retainers' as it were and remain so for the foreseeable future. And because they are light-adverse and essentially nocturnal, attempting an inhumation after sunset will carry considerable risk. We may have to 'suggest' to the Provost, Lord Vetinari, that anyone with a Bogey 'on staff' should be required to display a brassard on their door. Not all of them may be so lenient as the one Bernard encountered."

"Indeed," Lord Downey declared, "in my opinion young Ludorum got off extremely lightly. Given the size of most Bogeys and their (now obvious) attachment to their new families, attempting an inhumation after dark is a venture of extreme hazard. Not that we as a Guild are particularly adverse to risk, after all, but advising the current generation of students of the new, increased level of danger involved in Taking The Black is, I think, simply good manners."

Mme. les Deux-Epees raised her eyes from her copy of the report. "Mericet's point is still well-taken. We might do well to survey the 'client' list in Mr. Winvoe's office. Considering how repellant the average 'client' is, the likelihood of their being willing to pay for a Bogey is not great. Yes, we should ask le Patricien to require Bogey brassards on the homes of those employing them but I don't believe that the Guild members are really likely to find this un obstacle sérieux."

"It will," Miss Band added, "simply be an extension of the Thieves' Guild customary brassard. These are low-key warnings to any unlicensed thieves that the Guild considers this household under their umbrella and any unauthorized theft will be punished to the full extent of the Guild's displeasure. What we are proposing is similar except that we are warning all intruders that this home is under the umbrella of the--oh, call them the Guild of Bogeys--and that intruders run the definite risk of getting twisted like a wet towel. Our Guild will, as is good manners, respect the authority of this new Guild of Bogeys and avoid disturbances."

Lord Downey nodded. "Clients will still be targetable at their place of business or their club while knowing that they are safe on the city's byways and railways. Inhuming a client on the street has never been appropriate and will continue to be so. I believe we can consider the matter settled?"

"Move to table," hissed Mr. Mericet.

"Second," the Kompt de Yoyo said.

"The motion to table has been made and seconded. All in favor?"

"AYE"

"Opposed?'

There was silence.

"Then any motion to take action on young Ludorum's report is tabled. Is there any new business?"

*****

Far from Ankh-Morpork at the Vimes-Ramkin estate of Crundell's, Lady Lethality entered the breakfast room with an extensive number of large papers rolled up under her arm and her Kh'olli, Fluffles, wagging happily alongside.

"Sammy," she said, "when you get done with breakfast, you need to take a look at these?"

The Marquess of Quire finished chewing a bite of black pudding and put down his knife and fork.

"These being?"

"They're the plans for fortifying the manor house that my parents made over the last several summers--and that your father so fiendishly improved. I've been checking them for the last week (when you weren't on me!) and think that there is an addition that needs to be made. And the only one who can make it--is you!"

"Really? Well then, sit down and have something to eat and we can go over them afterwards. I recommend the creamed eggs with chives and toast. The sliced oranges are first rate, too."

After breakfast she lead him outside and down the side of the house to where a balcony jutted out. She pointed up to it.

"That, as you well know, is the balcony to our bedroom. Any Assassin, except the most skilled, would try and use it to get to you. As I showed you on the blueprints, it would be a waste of their time as there are so many false handholds and hidden traps that the fool would end falling off the wall and hitting the ground pretty hard. However, all that would do is mildly discourage them. I want to make them wish they'd never picked up the contract in the first place. I want to plant a rose bed right here. Now, my question is, can you talk the roses into growing exceptionally long thorns, in bunches?"

An uncharacteristically evil smile crossed Sammy's face. "Why, yes, I can! Very few people realize this but plant species have differing personalities and despite the cooing over them that upper class ladies in the Royal Botanical Society make, roses are actually quite nasty. They have beautiful flowers and lovely scent because we have forced them to, but what the plants themselves take pride in is their hips--and in their thorns! And whenever some unfortunate soul falls into a rose bush and gets stabbed dozens of times with dozens of thorns that have to be pulled out, the bushes all snicker."

Lethality's lips curled back in the kind of grimace that Captain Angua of the Watch makes when she wants to show her canines. She shivered with excitement.

"So, how long could the rose thorns grow, if the bushes redirected their energy into them instead of the flowers?"

"That, my love, is a very good question and one I can't answer--yet! But you have Mr. Butler put in a rose bed and I'll discuss the question with the plants. If I can establish an exceptionally thorny variety with 4"- 6" thorns, it could become another cash crop for sale to any country folk who have reason to worry about late night visits from the Guild."

"Ooo, falling into a bed of roses with 6-inch thorns would hurt so much? That's even worse than Auntie Jo falling into your parents' cesspit! I'll have Mr. Butler order the roses right away. You know, I was thinking maybe of something like one of those Venus Cow Traps but in our climate they only grow in greenhouses. Any chance you could do something about that?"

Sammy stroked his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know and even if I could, I'm not sure I want to. And I'm sure that neither His Lordship nor Duke Rodley would approve of that sort of Agro-Mancy research, anyway. The natives of Bangbangduc are terrified of Cow Traps and have tried to exterminate the species but somehow enough of them manage to survive to continue eating people. The idea of something like that getting loose and spreading across Quirm? I think that's one rabbit hole that can just as well go unexplored!"

"Ooo, you're right. They probably would spread and having something like that growing next to a path between villages? Yeah, we'll just skip that idea and go back to roses. If an Assassin falls into them, he'll at least survive long enough to get the word back to the Guild. If he just disappeared and got digested, no one would ever know why."

*****

A couple of weeks later, Mr. Butler drove a wagon up to the estate with a hundred or so healthy-looking bare-root rose bushes in multiple colors.

"Ah, Mr. Cordwinder," he exclaimed, "would you be knowin' where their lord and ladyship want these?"

The immaculately uniformed butler folded his hands in front of his chest and nodded his head.

"Yes, Mr. Butler, Lady Lethality wants a substantial bed planted under each of the bedroom windows of the residence wing. If his lordship's experiments succeed as he expects, you will soon be planting more such with an eye to making access to the manor's windows impossible--or should I say more impossible than it already is. Neither of them has, to their knowledge, made any enemies who might seek their inhumation but it is never a bad idea to be cautious."

"I've heard, Mr. Cordwinder, that th' latest fashion in Ankh-Morpork is t' take on a Bogey t' live under the beds of th' younger family members. Are ye aware of any plans o' that sort?"

"Since there are not, as yet, any new family members expected, I doubt that such plans are in the offing. But should the occasion arise, your rose beds will be the first line of defense. So tend them well, Mr. Butler. Her Ladyship was quite definite about that."

The Marquess of Quire looked over his personal notes. Ah, there it was, Millsprocket's Herbal Encourager, a spell that caused plant-life to grow at an alarmingly fast rate. It was reputed that casting it on the ancient oak beams of a castle could bring the entire thing down leaving naught but a granite mound covered in trees. Now the question was how much of it to apply to his lady's planned rose beds? If he convinced the bushes to grow thorns of near lethal length and then turned the bed into a veritable briar patch, anyone getting dropped into it from the wall of his manor house would likely end up left for dead, never to be seen again. Normally the most genial of men, Sammy considered this set of possibilities and rubbed his hands together gleefully. He was beginning to understand the potential delights of Evil. Not that he would ever seriously take it up as a career, you understand,--it was simply 'not done' in the Ramkin family and his father would be furious. Still, from the point of view of protecting his family? In this case, he'd do it!

"Sir?" Amos Cordwinder interrupted Sammy's thoughts, "Mr. Butler has arrived with the roses and your lady is arranging them for planting."

"Is she setting them in double rows with narrow aisles between them? You see, I found this old spell from the 'outer shelves' of the Library and I have this suspicion that if I use it on the roses, they may form a solid mat and no one would be able to pick the flowers or prune the bushes. On the other hand, once they have grown like that, they will be impenetrable."

Cordwinder brightened. "Indeed, sir? Once they're fully grown, you should send an iconograph to the Assassin's Guild. It would only be sporting, in my opinion, sir. I seriously doubt that anyone would take out a contract on you, in any event, but with that sort of warning? Even if someone did, most of your Lady's fellow Guild members would take one look and just put it back up on the shelf. After all, it is well known that your esteemed father, the Duke, was completely removed from the roster because of his remarkable talents at traps and deadfalls."

"Yes, he was. And he protested mightily. Dad enjoys 'jousting' with the Guild and felt that it kept him on his toes. They politely refused, except in the case of students who need a lesson in humility. He reluctantly agreed--and kept upgrading the traps around Ramkin House. But only in a sporting manner, so to speak. Since they weren't allowed to inhume him, he didn't want to do any upstart students serious harm. It seemed fair."

"Willikins agrees, sir. He has frequently expressed admiration for His Excellency's skill. Congratulations on extending the family tradition, sir"

*****

Wolfe Woodbead walked out onto the carré of his family's Chateau. There, enjoying the sun and a pitcher of white sangria were his wife, Passionette, his sister Aranae, his friend Consideration's wife (the Reader in the Annals of the Differently Alive) Penelope and her Ladyship, Lethality Vimes-Ramkin. They all were giggling uproariously and it didn't appear to be alcohol induced. The pitcher was still 3/4 full.

"Okay, ladies," Wolfe called out, "just what is so blinking funny?"

"Omigawds, Wolfie!" Aranae burst out, "you have got to see this. Penny went back to Unseen and Schleppel met her and handed her this announcement from His Lordship. Apparently, one of the aristocratic families retained a Bogey to sleep under their youngest's bed and during the night, a couple of weeks later, an Assassin tried to inhume Lord Rust, Senior. You'd think he would have known better, especially since the window was so easy to open? But it seems that young Bernard isn't wrapped too tight? Anyway he got about half way across the room when this Bogey grabbed him by the feet and head and after threatening to snap him in half threw him out the window."

"Threw him out the window? Oh that's hysterical!"

"It is," Penny agreed, "and it seems that Vetinari thought so, too. You see, Bernard went back to the Guild and filed a formal complaint with the Guild Counsel which, naturally, they sent to the Patrician. His response was to declare all employed Bogeys to be members of the Guild of Bogeys, Nursemaids and Preschool Teachers and issued this!"

'This' turned out to be an official bronze brassard that read, 'By Ghosties, Ghoulies and Things That Go Bump in the Dark, This House is Protected'.

Wolfe's jaw dropped and then turned into an immense grin. "The Patrician did this? Really, the Patrician?"

"Mm-hm," Li snickered, "Lady Sybil, who has known the man for years, had to cover her mouth to stifle the giggles. She said that he has never shown such dry humor for as long as she's known him. By fiat, everyone who employs a Bogey to sleep under the kiddies' bed will have to display this at eye level on their front door. Basically, it tells any ambitious Assassin that if they enter this house, they're on their own. No quarter, no mercy. Velvel thinks it's the funniest thing that has happened to Bogeys from as far back as any of them can remember."

"Okay, Pass," he said with a grin, "we need to get at least three of these of these. One for our house, one for Fernan and Aranae's and one for Mom and Dad's. And as soon as you're pregnant we need to go looking for a Bogey. 'By Ghosties, Ghoulies and Things That Go Bump in the Dark, This House is Protected!' I love this!"

"Then you better start looking," she replied, "because I started having a touch of morning sickness. Congratulations, Papa Woodbead."

"Really?" Wolfe picked his wife up in a hug and swung her around in a circle, "That's wonderful. I need to send a thank-you note to Hilta Goatfounder. Those Buckaroo Drops are the best!"

"Oh, go ahead," she squealed, "I already did but she'll appreciate the gesture."

"Here," Aranae poured him a glass of sangria, "a toast to witches."

*****

Thomas Stronginthearm, blacksmith and founder, inspected the latest batch of door brassards with a magnifying glass. Yes, by Io, the lads had got it right. Each letter was perfectly shaped and proud of the surface. If it wasn't a warning enough on its own, an Assassin unwary enough to risk a Bogey's wrath would be lucky if all he got was thrown out a window. Thomas had visions of an angry Bogey grabbing the chap by the scuff of his neck and slamming him headfirst into the brassard. The bruise, at least, would last for weeks and might well leave a permanent stamp on his forehead. It was, he had to admit, pretty droll for the Patrician. Normally, it was believed that His Lordship had no sense of humor but now it seems that the man's idea of amusement was simply too subtle for the rest of the City to appreciate. But in this case, Mr. Stronginthearm had to admit the gesture was absolutely boffo.

"Triphammer," he said to the free golem who worked for him, "since tomorrow is your holy day, please take this shipment to the Golem and Bogey Trust. Miss Von Lipwig is expecting it."

'Of Course, Mr. Stronginthearm," the golem rumbled, "She Will Have It Within The Hour."

The Golem and Bogey Trust began humbly. After Captain Carrot gave the golem to himself, Dorfl had become a Watch officer and earned enough to buy the golems Bobkes and Schmata. The three of them had earned enough to rent an tiny, run-down office and hire Adora Belle Dearheart to manage the new Trust. As the golems worked and bought their fellows, the Trust acted as an agency for anyone wanting to hire a newly freed golem. Its motto, "By our own hands or none" clearly demonstrated that this was the most responsible revolutionary cabal in the entire history of the Multiverse. And as the agent for any "persons of clay" who wanted work, it was the logical outlet for the newly emerging species, the Bogeys. Now, under the directorship of Adora Belle's daughter, Darling Von Lipwig, the Trust had moved to much better offices and had become a significant player in Ankh-Morpork's commercial world.

When Triphammer came through the door, Darling greeted it happily. "Triphammer, old pot, how are you doing these days? And is that box the order of brassards we need?"

"I Am Well, Miss Von Lipwig. And Yes, This Is The Order You Requested. Mr. Stronginthearm Is Quite Pleased With The Results And Believes That The Patrician Will Find Them Satisfactory And Possibly Even Amusing."

Darling opened the box and took out a sample. "Oh, these are absolutely precious. 'By Ghosties, Ghoulies and Things That Go Bump in the Night, This House is Protected'. Whoever came up with that?"

"We Are Not Sure. Most Believe That It Was The Patrician, Himself, But The Phrase Seems Awfully Sly For Vetinari. However, The Possibility That It Was Coined By His Clerk Drumknott Is Highly Unlikely So Unless Lady Margolotta Had A Hand In, We Are Forced To Believe That It Was The Patrician."

Darling Von Lipwig nodded. "The man says that what the people want is that tomorrow be pretty much the same as today and that stability is a tyrants' best policy. That doesn't keep him from throwing in the occasional surprise whenever he feels like it and this one is a beaut. Commissions at the Guild are going to go up in price, I'm sure. Who wants a repeat of Bernard Ludorum's misadventure? He was lucky that all the Bogey did was fling him out a window. Those things are huge! How they fit under a bed I don't understand."

"Doubtless There Is Magic Involved, Miss Von Lipwig."

"Doubtless you are right, Triphammer, and it is a magic I want to keep on my side. Thank-you again and enjoy your holy day."

*****

Reginald Ludorum guided his son to a table in the Assassins' Guild bar and, after ordering drinks for both of them, sat the younger man down for a man-to-man talk.

"Bernard, my son, you simply have to make a decision. I understand that encountering that Bogey on your first attempt at an inhumation was traumatic but now that His Lordship has decreed that all homes with Bogeys must be identified, it's time for you to decide whether to truly take up the Black or retreat to the life of a normal aristocrat."

Bernard stared morosely at his drink. "I understand your point, Father, and Mr. Mericet would say that I have had a good first experience. Far better to meet the dangers of the profession early so as not to get over-confident, but as you said, it was traumatic."

"I'm sure it was but the longer you wait to "recover" the less likely you are to attempt another inhumation. That's why I said you have to make a decision. We are rich enough that you do not need to Take the Black for a living. Do you really want to be an Assassin or are you content to simply be a graduate of the Guild School like the vast majority of the city's elite?"

Bernard set his jaw and furled his brow. Meeting the Bogey wasn't traumatic, it was terrifying but he wasn't about to let it frighten him out of the profession. He was quite sure that there were plenty of other clients who didn't have small children who begged for their own Bogey or were just too miserly to spend the large amounts of money needed to acquire one. He brightened up. After all, there were always the Lavishes!