More Tales from the Guilds Ch. 01

Eight-year-olds rarely have much in the way of luggage beyond stuffed animals and fuzzy pajamas. Alvys easily handed over the werepup's small trunk.

Manngang scowled up at the pair of wizards. "Are you gonna be the one's that'll keep the chickens from showin' up alla time?"

Phoebe smiled in return. "Well, Manngang, let's say I'm going to start helping you to only get chickens when you want them and to make sure they arrive fully cooked."

Manngang brightened. Cooked chickens were right up his alley. For one thing, they don't peck your feet! Deciding that the two might just be okay, after all, he took Phoebe's hand and climbed up into the cab and settled down in the middle of the seat. Phoebe approved. With her on one side and Jeremy on the other, any 'traditionalist' werewolf with dead yennork on his mind would be in for a rough series of fireballs. And, like silver, fire was one thing that definitely killed werewolves⁷.

⁷ As Adora Belle von Lipswig, né Dearheart once said, "Moist, it kills everything."

As the cab entered the huge gates of Unseen University, a certain segment of the city's population let out a collective sigh of relief. Various sets of eyes that had been watching intently from doorways and alley entrances exhaled and returned to the dark from whence they came. It wasn't as though the Differently Alive really expected any trouble; they were just happy that it hadn't shown up uninvited.

Captain Angua turned to her friends Ludmilla and Lupine⁸. "Thanks for getting the word out."

⁸ Werewolves with a difference. During one week of the month, they were similar large, hairy, frightening images of what the uninformed imagine werewolves to be. The other three they were a tall, attractive woman with a large furry 'dog' (for a given value of dog). Not a pair to be overly casual with!

Absently scratching Lupine behind the ears, Mrs. Cake's daughter replied, "The Differently Alive have enough problems with humans. The last thing we need is for some outsiders of our type making us city dwellers look bad."

Lupine nodded and growled in agreement. In another couple of days, the full moon would be up and he and Ludmilla would be the same shape. He always looked forward this phase of the moon.

*****

For a son of an aristocratic werewolf family, the room in Unseen was Spartan. However, once Mr. Oinkles, the pink plush piglet, was installed on his pillow and the room and armoire carefully inspected for chickens, Manngang felt more at home. Then, just to make sure, he looked under the bed—and saw a pair of green, slit-pupiled eyes staring back!

"Who are you an' what are you doin' unner my bed?"

"I'm Velvel. I live here."

Manngang thought about that. "Are you a bogleyman?" he demanded.

"Uh, yes?"

"Do you have any chickens in there with you?"

"Chickens? Eeewwwww! Chickens are mean and nasty. They peck your feet and they smell bad. If any chickens show up down here, I'm leaving."

Manngang sat back on his heels. "Oh. Good. Then we can be friends 'cause I don't like live chickens either. Cooked ones are okay, but not live ones."

Velvel thought about that. His favorite dish was well-aged dust bunny but he'd had the occasional gnawed chicken bone from a previous student inhabitant and thought it wasn't bad. A little chewy, perhaps, but not bad at all.

"You got any cooked ones?" the bogey asked.

"Not yet. But there's this lady wizard here who says she can teach me to attract 'em. Right now, whenever I get hungry, weird things show up. Live chickens, jerky sticks . . ."

"Nice talent!" Velvel was impressed. He spent a good part of his time hungry because Mrs. Whitlow was an imperious Housekeeper and didn't approve of dust bunnies building up under student beds. Being able to make them appear whenever you wanted one? He could get bang alongside that!

"Maybe. I'm supposed to be a—Ma-gus al-licit ci-bum, whatever that means. 'S sompin' about a wizard who attracts food and that's stoopid. 'm a werewolf. We don't do magic for food; we go out and catch stuff to eat."

"Really? You eat humans and dwarfs and stuff?"

"Nah, my family says that's for re-tro-gres-sive bar-bar-ians with no manners. Mom is big on good manners. We eat deers an' rabbits an' stuff. 'S really good."

"Really? You turn into a wolf and go hunting?"

"Well, not me. At least not yet. Mom's hopin' I'll grow into it but it hasn't happened so far."

Velvel was silent. So this was the new yennork in town all the Differently Alive were talking about? A little kid who didn't like chickens any more than he did? And there were Others out there that wanted to kill him? The Bogeyman snarled to himself. Not on his Watch they wouldn't! The fact that he could fit under a bed was no way to judge the bogey's true size and the fact that he liked living with students didn't mean he was some sort of sissy. Bring 'em on! He flexed a pair of hands the size of wheelbarrows and made fists the size of beer barrels. Manngang said they could be friends. It was a novel concept for a solitary species that hid behind and under things. Friends. Velvel liked the sound of that.

*****

Phoebe snuggled into Jeremy's arms and pulled the covers up over both of them. "Well," she heard him whisper, "we've got him here and moved into his room. He should be safe, now."

"I don't know how safe he is," she replied, "Did you know that a bogey lives under his bed? Just how safe is that?"

"Oh, don't worry. It's just Velvel. He lived under my bed when I was a student. He's a good sort, for a bogy. As long as Manngang doesn't try anything mean like throwing a blanket over the poor thing's head they should be fine. Have you had any luck locating the source of those chickens he called up?"

Phoebe giggled slightly. "No, but when I asked All Jolson about setting up an account, he said it would be on the house. 'How much can an eight-year-old eat?' he asked."

"And you carefully didn't tell him that the eight-year-0ld was a werepup?"

"Of course I didn't. At least we should first find out how much he can eat before we get fussy about the details."

Jeremy thought about that. "Why do I have the feeling that we may have been putting off something that we should have put on the table up front? I mean, he got hungry and attracted six chickens. Was that just miscalculation or was it an omen? I've heard that even Archchancellor Henry couldn't finish off six hens by himself."

"Well, it's too late to worry about it now. If we find out I was wrong, we'll solve that problem later."

*****

Deer Mum,

I am all mooved into my room at UU. My bedroom at home is niser but this is not bad. There's a bogleyman living under my bed. His name is Velvel. He does not like live chikkens either. I think we are going to be friends. Professorer Emerjent-Weetherwax is nice. She says the first thing to do is learn to only attract cooked chikkens. They are easier to eat and do not peck feet. I hope it does not turn out to be hard.

Luv,

Manngang

*****

Lady Margolotta smiled approvingly at the pencil scrawled note. As Manngang had said to the bogey, Lady Magdalene was indeed very big on good manners and even though a clacks had been sent upon the lad's arrival it was good to see that he made the effort to let his mother know personally. Such a darling pup.

"You have brought him up properly, darling," she advised his mother, "und I am glad to see he is already making friends, even if the first vun is a bogey. Havelock assures me that the Archchancellor takes his vellfare very seriously und Captain von Humpeding has forwarded a clacks from Captain Angua saying that the Undead Community in Ankh-Morpork feels very protective und is on guard. Yes, little Manngang is qvite safe there."

"I'm so glad, Lady Margolotta," Lady Magdalene replied with a slightly sad smile, "as much as I miss my little one it is a great relief to know that even if he never Changes, he is in little danger, anymore. You were right. This really was for the best."

*****

Manngang's academic progress was steady but—eccentric. Most magic students' first task is to make a candle light. This can be harder (and more dangerous) that it first appears. Many a young would-be wizard has been hauled off to the infirmary for wax burns when instead of lighting the candle, he made it explode (being in UU didn't guarantee 'safe', just safer than Überwald). Manngang totally failed. But then, Phoebe got the idea that maybe he wasn't properly motivated. General wizards liked books but the little werepup was a Magus allicit cibum, a food magnet wizard. Taking him by the hand after class (and just before dinner) one afternoon, she led him downstairs to the capacious kitchens underneath Unseen University and asked him to try and light a stove.

Manngang thought about that. If he could light the stove, then any chickens that showed up and tried pecking his feet could be cooked. It seemed perfectly logical to an eight-year-old mind so he mentally leaned on the stove and ffwoomp. With a roar, eight burners, the griddle and both ovens burst into life.

"Whoa. Did I do that?"

"Yes, you did, Manngang, and now let's go back to the classroom. I want you to think about the candle wick just like you did here." It worked.

In time, word spread through the student population that the little kid with the funny Überwalder name wasn't really human. Because, as the Patrician had observed, Unseen University's student body and its faculty were all human, this became a major issue of discussion. Nutt had been a different case. He had worked 'downstairs' and was pretty much ignored by the students, until the return of football. Manngang was in the middle of things and had acquired a fair amount of popularity.

It had all started late one afternoon when the other boys started talking about their favorite dishes 'back home'. Manngang was still trying very hard not to conjure up a half dozen live chickens (again!) and turned his thoughts to the famous Überwaldean chocolates⁸. All at once a large pan of hot, gooey brownies appeared in his hands. The response was predictable. After the group gobbled down every last crumb (and licked the pan nearly shiny) Manngang found himself riding around the room on the older boys' shoulders to the tune of "For he's a jolly good werewolf . . ."

⁸ Very dark and slightly bitter. They differed greatly from the Quirmian sort, all rich and creamy, but certain connoisseurs find them superior. Quirm chocolates, it is felt, are soft, degenerate and bourgeois. And as for the Ankh-Morpork's sort? Dirt-colored sawdust!

This naturally brought up the question of why the University's own werepup never grew hair and fangs. In answer, the Archchancellor directed the new Dean to come up with a seminar on the subject and the Dean, grudgingly, went to the Professor of Recondite Architecture and Origami Map-making who directed his attention to the Professor of Transformative Existentialism.

"Professor of Transformative Existentialism. I had no idea such a person existed," the Dean commented.

"Dean," Ridcully responded irritably, "this university's like the library. Yerknow, it's got a finite circumference but a near infinite radius? Why I remember the time we went lookin' for the previous Egregious Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography. Found ourselves wanderin' down corridors we had not only never seen before but didn't even know could be. Now this chap studies bein's turnin' into other bein's. Who better to explain why our werewolf is just one more small boy wizard and never does anythin' interestin'—except magically makin' chocolates appear. Sorry I wasn't there when he did it. Never had Überwald chocolate, m'self, but I've heard verra good things about it, verra, verra good things, indeed. Anyway, fetch this Transformer johnnie out and get him explainin' before the students start comin' up with wild ideas."

Professor Aloysius Hallowell Capstick, D. Thau (Unseen), DM, MThauA, was, despite a normal wizardly rotundity, a small man. His long, neatly forked beard was now streaked with grey but still showed some of its original sandy color as did the fringe of hair around his head. He leaned down with what he probably thought was a kindly manner as said, "Ah, Manngang Von Tirschland. That's an old distinguished family you're from, my young chap."

"We don't eat hoomans or dwarfuz; it's bad manners. And goblins are just yucky and they smell bad!"

"Yes, your mothers well-regarded monograph, On the civilized Werebeing⁹ is quite clear on the point. This explains why, when you're feeling peckish, you get chickens instead of more sapient bipeds."

⁹ Magdalene didn't know if there were any other sorts of people like hers but wasn't about to ignore the behavior of werebears, weretigers or werelions, should such beings exist.

" 'S happened three times now! An' I still haven't managed to get them to come already cooked."

"And, you've yet to Change when the moon is full. So I think an examination of your morphic field is order."

Manngang squinted suspiciously at the wizard. "Will it hurt?"

"Oh, no, no, no! All you have to do is sit in a chair. You might even find this interesting."

He did.

Taking the lad to a small seminar room, with Phoebe chaperoning, Professor Capstick placed two comfortable chairs side by side and motioned Manngang to sit in one. After a few minutes of chanting, waving mystical patterns in the air and a couple of taps on the floor with the wizard's staff, a transparent and slightly indistinct figure of a small boy appeared in the empty chair.

"Whoa! Izzat me?"

"Mmmm—for a given value of 'you' I think is the best way to put it. It's your morphic field, Manngang, the part of your karmic signature that tells you that you are a small boy and should be a small boy. However, in your family sometimes you should be a small wolf. So," the wizard reached into his robes and took out a small round box, "let's see what happens to it when I apply some canned moonlight. Close the curtains, if you would be so kind, Professor Emergent. Darkness will help."

Professor Capstick took out a little round box and took off the lid. Silver light streamed out in a beam towards the morphic field. And something strange happened. The simulacrum began to writhe. It twisted and turned but never managed to become a coherent shape until the lid went back on the box and the beam shut off. Then it went back to being a small boy.

"Interesting. It knows it should Change but it doesn't know what it should be. Thank-you, Manngang. I am going to have to do some more research. The seminar will have to wait."

*****

Somewhere in the infinite shelves of the Unseen University Library is every book written, every book that could be written and even every book that someone contemplated writing. These last are especially hard to track down and even in the event you succeed, they turn out to be semi-transparent, ephemeral and very hard to read. Capstick feared that what he wanted would be the last sort. The Differently Alive, to use the modern, polite term¹⁰ had never been a subject of intense scholarship from the University's standpoint. For one thing, they didn't particularly want to be studied, thank-you very much, and for another very few lived near the comfortable confines of UU, at least until recently. This made the subject of Werewolf behavior and development an opaque area of research. He feared that finding a reference on the subject would prove very, very difficult. He was right. Fortunately, difficult≠impossible!

¹⁰ 'Undead' is so gauche!

Lladislav Pelc stared down at the ghostly image on the lectern. Tentatively he stuck out a finger and swiped it from right to left. Sure enough, the page turned even though he couldn't actually feel anything.

"Quite odd, Aloysius," he mused, "You would think that a transparent book would be impossible to read because you'd be seeing all the pages at once. But the only pages that show print are the top ones. However, the print is distressingly blurry. Do you really expect to get anything useful out of it?"

Professor Capstick sighed in resignation. "Expect? No. Hope? Yes. Lladislav, this is a potentially important tome. If it turns out to be possible to teach little Manngang how to properly Change, we could be on the track of eliminating the yennork condition entirely. Just think. No more honor killings!"

"That's a very large 'if', old chap. And who knows whether or not there is a single cause of the condition. But for all the gods' sake, don't let me discourage you! Every yennork turned into a proper bimorph is a yennork saved. Intraspecies ethnic cleansing is a horror and if it can be reduced, let alone eliminated, the Disc will be better for it. I'm sure we can all agree on that!"

"Ook!" The Librarian swallowed the last of the banana and tossed the skin in a dustbin. Most of the time he hated violence. Most of the time.

*****

Adolf von Schreckenberg stalked back and forth in front of the roaring fire that blazed in the oversized hearth of Blutschloss, his family's ancestral home. He was in full rant.

"Has no one any concern for the purity of the race? Are we all become vampire lovers and meadow eaters? Why is this yennork still alive? Is there no . . ."

"Adolf, sit down and shut up!" His father snarled¹¹, "I said 'sit down'! And I'm not fooling about the 'shut up', either. Now, let me explain a few things to you about Reality. One, that damned Von Überwald vampire woman, when she put together the alliance that quashed the Überwölfen, essentially made the rest of the clans walk at heel. She doesn't like 'ethnic cleansing' and we traditionalists are now a small minority. Try and cross her and you won't last a month.

¹¹ And when a werewolf snarls, it's not metaphorical.

"Two, Manngang is in Ankh-Morpork where Angua von Überwald is third in command to Sam Vimes. Sam Vimes, remember? The human who killed her brother Wolfgang in one-on-one combat? You think she wouldn't know the minute you got into the city? She had no patience with her brother's idiot Überwölfen fantasies and she won't have any with your dreams of 'purity', either.

"Three, he is a student at Unseen University, a college of wizards. You know about wizards, don't you? Large, fat men who throw fireballs when annoyed? Like, fireballs? Now stop your nonsense, Adolf. Forget about Manngang von Tirschland and go find something else to occupy your mind . . . such as it is!"

"Jawohl, mein Vater."

*****

Captain Angua looked at Professor Capstick incredulously. "You want me to Change in front of Manngang? You do realize that I have to undress first?"

"No, no, no!" Capstick protested, "You don't even have to be in the same room with him. If you sit in a chair in the next room, I can make a simulacrum of your morphic field in a chair in the same room as Manngang's. Then, when I shine moonlight on both fields, yours will naturally Change to wolf shape and that should let Manngang's know what it ought to do."

"Should . . ."

"Yes, 'should'. Naturally there's no guarantee but it's the best idea I've come up with so far. Captain, this may be a cure for the yennork condition. It's quite possible that all werewolves can be full bimorphs if we get this right. Think of the lives saved, the families not divided!"

Angua thought of her sister, Else. Her brother Wolfgang had killed her simply because she was 'locked' in human form. He'd have done the same to her other brother, Andrei, if the wolf-formed one hadn't fled. He'd managed to get as far as XXXX where, it was said, he'd carved out a successful career as a champion sheepdog. She missed both of them.