A Discworldly Legacy - Chapter 15b: Roots
A Discworldly Legacy - Chapter 15b: Roots
Part two of chapter 15. Hey, I managed to update in under a month! That must be a record for me! Anyway, last time Cheery resolved to get to the bottom of the PlantSim mystery and inadvertently involved Dibbler and Druellae. The sisters broke in to McGraw's house and found a hidden door, and that's just where we left off...
The door opened into a small, dark room where two hydroponic farms let off an icy light. Dibbler quickly turned on a nearby lamp so the sisters could examine them properly.
"Weird. What do you suppose these are?" said Dibbler, rubbing a leaf experimentally and sniffing her fingers. "Smells kind of spicy. Ellie? This is your area."
Druellae shrugged. "No idea. Some kind of herb?"
"Next question."
"Shoot."
"What's through there?"
"I was wondering that myself."
Dibbler squared her shoulders purposefully. "Only one way to find out."
Druellae took a steadying breath, trying not to let on how unsettled she was by the turn of events. She couldn't help but feel amused at how her sister was more into this than she was. Oh, the irony.
Dibbler found the door unlocked. It was well maintained, and opened slowly and noiselessly. Druellae urged herself to follow, shutting the door behind them.
What lay behind the door robbed them of the ability to speak. The room was filled with stark pens and lit with fluorescent lights that scalded the eyeballs if you looked at them directly. However, it was not the cruel lighting nor the pens themselves that captured the girls' attention so completely, but their tiny, green inhabitants. The minute they entered the room, several pairs of amber eyes turned to watch them with bovine interest. Once the girls had been thoroughly examined, the creatures went back to staring vaguely into a different dimension, swaying slightly where they sat.
"SporeBabies..." Druellae breathed at last.
Suddenly a voice burst through the leaden atmosphere. "Damn you, McGraw, I already told you: no more today! You'd better be gone by the time I turn around or I'll tear you a new windpipe. Don't touch me."
Both girls jumped and looked up to see a previously unnoticed form in a cell at the end of the room.
Dibbler found her tongue first. "Actually, it's not McGraw, and we're here to help you. So I'd consider a better choice of words if I were you."
"Thanks for the suggestions," the PlantSim snarled. "I'll file it under 'shit I don't care about' with the rest of the stuff in my life."
Dibbler and Druellae shared a disbelieving look. "Didn't you hear me? I said we're trying to help you."
"Sure, that's what you say. The day I find a Sim who actually cares about me and mine, I'll eat my leaves."
Well, she was behaving a lot more like the PlantSims Cheery described from her teenage years, Druellae reflected.
"Fine. Since you obviously don't want our help, maybe we'll just go," said Dibbler, incensed.
"Nice talking with you."
Druellae finally spoke up. "You've been in this basement a while, huh?"
"Just my whole godsdamn life. That long enough for you?"
"And you're going to let a chance to see the sun slip past so easily?"
"Oh, hell. You may be scumbag Sims, but if you're honestly offering a chance to bust out of this damn basement... So, hit me. What did you have in mind?"
"There's an old Discworld saying: 'It's amazing what you can achieve with hairpins'," said Dibbler wisely. She glanced behind her at the rows of docile SporeBabies and felt her curiosity flare up. "What's going on here?"
"Honestly? I sometimes ask myself the same question," said the PlantSim, losing some of her fire. "All I've ever known are these walls, and that my role in life is to produce SporeBabies for McGraw."
"Why not do something about it? Why not fight back or try to escape?" Druellae asked. The PlantSim certainly appeared spirited.
"Oh, don't think I haven't tried. But whenever I do, McGraw takes away what I need to survive until I submit: she keeps me supplied with light, water and someone to talk to as long as I behave myself."
Druellae's eyes widened. "You can talk to that plant?" she said, deep envy in her voice.
"Of course. All PlantSims can."
"Huh..."
"And the SporeBabies themselves?" Dibbler pressed on.
"They stay in their cells until they reach adulthood, and during that time McGraw feeds them on... some kind of concoction, I don't know. But it seems to keep 'em quiet, like rows of vegetables in a garden. Pun not intended."
Dibbler looked at her sister. "The herbs outside?"
"It's likely," Druellae agreed.
"Now enough chit-chat, are you going to let me out?" the PlantSim snapped impatiently.
Just as Druellae was reaching for one of the pins that held her hair in place, a cold, hostile voice snapped through the air.
"Did you two really think I wouldn't spot you loitering in my flowerbeds? This really is very inconvenient... What a bloody hassle," McGraw said. She sounded more annoyed than angry.
"Oh, bollocks," the PlantSim whispered. Dibbler and Druellae were thinking much along the same lines.
Things had just become a lot more difficult.
The window frame rattled, but held fast. Dibbler shrugged. "Well, it was worth a shot."
In the next room, they could hear McGraw on the phone to - presumably - The Watch. At least, that's what they thought until they heard her say, "...I don't see why I can't call The Watch and be done with it. I presume you have your reasons for not wanting them involved, but- alright, alright, I was only asking...!"
Dibbler turned and glanced at Druellae. If not the authorities, who exactly was discussing their immediate future with McGraw?
"...Yes, hiding in my garden. I noticed just after my home help left for their hostel. I thought it was suspicious but didn't call The Watch on your recommendation, went to take Elise and Adam to their mother's for the night, and came back to find them chatting to you-know-who in the basement.
... I don't know them myself, no, but I swear I recgonise them from someplace.
...Oh, I don't know, fairly non-descript: one has mid-length, dark brown hair and questionable taste in clothing, the other has short red hair and gold-rimmed glasses. Why does that even matter?"
McGraw went quiet, listening, then said, "Fine, we're on our way. It'll take a while because we're walking, though. Oh, and Christopher, they're not to come to any harm, understood? I won't have it.
...Good. We'll be there shortly."
Dibbler hurriedly took her seat as McGraw entered the kitchen, looking tetchy. "Right. On your feet, both of you."
"Where are we going?" Druellae asked, rising uneasily.
"Downtown. Hurry up, hurry up."
"We're not honestly walking are we? It's raining!" Dibbler said indignantly.
"Should have thought about that before you broke into an old woman's house, hmm? And believe you me, I have things I'd rather be doing with my evening, so get a move on."
With that, she herded the two shell-shocked girls out of the house and into the fine mist of rain on the street.
After an hour of walking in the freezing autumn rain, Dibbler's body was protesting loudly. She had no idea what to expect and focused on staying strong for Druellae's sake; her sister looked smaller and more wraith-like with every passing moment. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself and fought down a shiver. Never had she wanted more to be at home counting out money in her scheming chair.
"We're here."
They were outside a dark and seedy looking club in the heart of Downtown, where the buildings crouched sulkily and cast their shadows deep into the gloomy streets. Druellae and Dibbler passed over the threshold with an ever-growing sense of foreboding.
McGraw led them through the smoky main room and up a flight of stairs to a narrow hallway. She rapped on the door with her knuckles before opening it.
"Mr DeRonde, here they are. Remember what I asked you on the phone, please."
A smirk was visible on the man's face underneath his impressive fedora. "Why must you always assume the worst of me, madam? Thank you, I'll ask you to wait outside now."
McGraw left the room with quick steps, the wedge of light narrowing and winking out as she closed the door, plunging the room into almost complete darkness.
The man made himself comfortable before speaking. "Hello, girls. My, how you've grown."
"Shut up! We know you're up to something in that basement, and we'll see you pay for it! Now let us go, you bastard!" Dibbler shouted, praying she could drown out the fear in her voice with sheer volume.
To her dismay, the man chuckled disparagingly. "That's not very polite, Dibbler. Didn't your mother teach you to respect your elders and betters?"
Dibbler's blood froze as he spoke her name. It sounded soiled coming from his lips. "Yeah, well. You only fulfill one of those categories, as far as I'm concerned."
"Mm," he said. A troubled shadow passed over his face and he stood up, moving around his desk. "You really don't know who I am, do you." It wasn't a question.
"No. Should we?" said Dibbler.
Druellae was staring into the man's face with wide, frightened eyes. "Dibs... He- he looks like uncle Cohen."
"And the penny drops!" DeRonde shouted gleefully, throwing his arms wide into a gesture that was anything but warm.
Dibbler studied his face and, now she was looking for them, saw the similarities: same brown eyes, same proud, jutting nose...
"Who are you?!" Dibbler cried, frustration mounting inside her.
"Well, these days I go by the name Christopher DeRonde. It makes things easier for me. However, there was a time I was called-"
"-Chrysoprase Discworld." He smiled expectantly as though this should mean something to them.
There was a long pause. "...So, you're our uncle?" Dibbler said finally.
The smile dropped from Chrysoprase's face. "Come on. Cheery must have at least mentioned me?"
"I don't think so," Dibbler hazarded.
"Oh, now that's great. That's really the icing, that is. Thank you, Cheery. Thank you," Chrysoprase snarled, pacing back to the window to gaze out at the rain.
"So. Not only do you cut me out of the family like a tumour, make no attempt to so much as reach out and find me... but you go far as to deny my very existence to your own daughters? To tell them what happened?"
"Err," said Dibbler eloquently. "Sorry, I guess?"
"If you're a Discworld, you must have known. You must have known they were family; the PlantSims," said Druellae.
Chrysoprase whipped around to face her, a glint flickering in his eye. He struck the table hard with his fist as he turned, making both girls jump, and when he spoke his voice was coarse and furious.
"Haven't you listened to a word I've said, little girl? I did it because they're family! I did it because I knew it would hurt. I knew you'd feel the sting and look - here you are!
"That dithery old woman, Kate McGraw, turned up desperate on my doorstep years ago seeking funding for her PlantSim research. She must have been desperate to come to this side of town. Well, I had money to throw her way, and I saw a chance to get back at the family who deserted me. My family. My own family!
"But I digress. I found this way of life suited me well. I used my skills, just like Desdemona told me too."
At that, his face collapsed as he became swamped in his memories. "Desdemona..." he repeated softly. "Dear friend... I hope you would not hate me to see me now..."
"I still don't understand," said Dibbler sharply, cutting through his reverie. "Why do all this? Was it really just to satisfy some long-held grudge against our mother?"
"Oh, the gritty questions. You'll go far, Dibbler. I see a lot of myself in you." The comment made Dibbler's insides seethe.
"It just doesn't make any sense. You've spent so much time, so much money, and involved all these other people. Hell, you've started an independent business, just to get back at us. It never occurred to you to pick up the phone and call?"
Chrysoprase smiled strangely. "Ah, the easy way. Let's just say it's never been my style. I had an opportunity, I had the money... why not? You see, by the time McGraw called on me, The Cavern had become a successful money earner and I had been operating under the name DeRonde for a good few months. She still has no idea who I really am, the silly woman.
"And what fun it's been, watching McGraw, your PlantSim friends and, indeed, yourselves run about like rats in a maze. Observing behaviour is one of my interests, you see."
A shudder coursed through Dibbler's body. This man - this twisted man - had been watching her whole family for months, possibly longer. That was prime-time entertainment for him. Suddenly she felt very exposed and vulnerable.
"Take your good selves, for example. Druellae. Sweet, nature-loving Druellae. Never done so much as dropped a lolly wrapper in your life, have you? And to think of those grand injustices against your leafy kin... why, it must have torn your heart out. Such a good heart, too. Such a likable young lady. But that's just the problem, isn't it? Liked by many, loved by none. Tell me, how are things with Winston?"
Druellae's face took on a hue more commonly associated with chilli peppers. "I-I don't..."
"No? That's what I thought," said Chrysoprase. "And you, Dibbler. I must say, my dear, I admire you. You have grit, you don't let anything stand in your way and you - how does that saying go - dance to the beat of your own drum. And oh, how I pity any man who finds himself between you and a pile of cash. In fact, I understand you even tried to sell your own sister a few years back-"
Dibbler threw her hands up. "Oh, for the love of... I wasn't serious! Why does everyone keep bringing that up?!"
"But you'll go a long way for a good payoff, won't you Dibbler?" Chrysoprase read correctly into Dibbler's silence and grinned. "Alright, so if I did this..."
He opened a drawer and retrieved a chequebook, then sat down and pulled out a pen with a flourish. "How does a hundred thousand sound? Payable directly to Miss Dibbler Discworld."
Druellae's hand shot out and grasped Dibbler's elbow, warning her to be careful. "What is this?" Dibbler asked uncertainly. "I don't need that, my family is rich enough-"
"-Ah, but that money will only pass to you if you are the Heir to the Legacy, Dibbler. This money would be yours. And true, you don't need it. But do you want it? That's a whole different story. Call it sixteen years of birthday presents from uncle Chryssy."
"Dibbler..." Druellae whispered. Dibbler heard the terror in her sister's voice through the fog of her internal monologue.
It's a trick! $100,000. Don't take it, you can't trust him. That'll get you far if you use it right. $100,000. This guy obviously isn't right in the head. $100,000. It's a safeguard in case you don't get the Heirship. You'll barely see any of the family money if you're not the Heir, that's a big risk. No! Don't take it. $100,000. He's enjoying this; don't give $100,000 him the satisfaction $100,000 of taking $100,000 the $100,000 money. $100,000 $100,000 $100,000.
Chrysoprase grunted and hammered his hands on the table. "Too long! Too long! Look, take it! Don't you want it? Gods!"
Dibbler didn't move; her brain felt like it had been reduced to slurry.
"You're hurting my feelings here, Dibbler sweetheart," Chrysoprase sighed. "I'm just trying to do something nice for my favourite niece. What, do I need to offer you some extra incentive? Hmm?"
The next thing Dibbler knew, there was a gun in Chrysoprase's hands, aimed directly at Druellae.
"If you don't do the gracious thing and accept this cheque, I'll just shoot your sister. Seems only fair, don't you agree? I'll count to three. One." He cocked the gun.
"No!" Druellae screamed, recoiling.
"Two."
"Stop!!" Dibbler sprang forward and snatched the cheque out of his hand. "I've got the cheque, okay?! Now please, put the gun down!"
"Spoilsport," Chrysoprase complained. "Hm. You know what, I've changed my mind. Give it back."
"I don't even want it!" Dibbler cried, not moving. Lies.
"Give it back, or you're walking out of here alone, Dibbler!"
"You've got to be kidding me..." Dibbler made to slide the cheque back on the table.
"Ah, ah!" Chrysoprase said, waving the gun. "No, no! The rules haven't changed! You sure you want to do that?"
"What am I supposed to do?!" Dibbler screamed. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was on fire.
"You tell me!" Chrysoprase said cheerfully.
When Dibbler made no response, Chrysoprase shrugged and said, "Ah, go ahead, take the cheque. And how about I go ahead and remove one more complication from your lives, while I'm at it?"
Dibbler dared to nod, brain reeling.
"Very well." Chrysoprase raised the gun to his own temple, watching their reactions through slitted eyes.
"Don't!" Druellae cried. "Please, stop this! Please! I'm sorry for everything- everything that's led you to be what you are. This doesn't need to happen. Please."
"But it's such a pretty toy, don't you agree?" Chrysoprase asked, not lowering the weapon. "Seems a shame not to use it, and it might as well be on me."
"It doesn't have to be!"
"Well, if you insist..." Chrysoprase swung the gun out, almost lazily, this time aiming at Dibbler.
Suddenly, the door exploded inwards, crashing on its hinges.
"Christopher DeRonde, drop your weapon! You're under arrest!" ordered Constable Angua Ironfounderrson, drawing her own gun.
"Anything you say can and... will... be..." Carrot's authoritative tone faded as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. "Chrys?"
"How delightful! The fuzz! Literally, in some cases," Chrysoprase added, glancing at Angua.
"Chrys," Carrot repeated quietly, staring into his brother's face.
"Psst, Carrot... ain't he your brother?"
"Shut up, Captain Obvious," said Angua. "Chrysoprase Discworld. Drop the gun."
"You only had to ask," said Chrysoprase, setting it on the table.
"Chrys. What are you doing here?" Carrot asked.
"Phoo, it's a long story, little brother. Pull up a chair why don't you?"
"This is not the time, Captain," urged Angua.
"I've been looking for you... and you've been hiding in Downtown Ankh-Morpork all this time?"
"Well! At least someone was." Chrysoprase shot a look at the two sisters. "And don't feel too bad about not finding me, Carrot. I've gone to some lengths to cover my tracks. Although, any watchman worth his mettle would have found me easy as breathing."
"Captain!" said Angua sharply. Carrot stood stock still, trembling slightly.
"Why did you do it, Chrys? You murdered your own brother; your own flesh and blood."
Chrysoprase rolled his eyes. "Oh, quit making such a fuss! He got better, didn't he? And for what it's worth, I didn't mean to kill him. It was an accident. Cohen attacked me. During the scuffle, he fell back and hit his head on the stove. Oh, did he leave out that detail? How funny. This family is full of secrets, apparently." Chrysoprase raised his eyebrows. "I'm many things, Carrot. A murderer isn't one of them."
Carrot shook himself. "That changes nothing. You're a criminal and you're coming with us."
"Your turn to play the hero, is it, Carrot? Ah, this is your moment of shining glory after all these years of living in the shadows! Poor, predictable, boring old Carrot finally brings his evil brother to justice. Look, I'll even come quietly." He walked forwards, holding his wrists together in a gesture of deference.
Angua and Ron kept their guns trained on Chrysoprase as Carrot went for the cuffs with shaking hands. He fumbled them and swore under his breath. "Damn... how you get anything done in this light is beyond me..." he muttered, finally getting the cuffs unhooked.
"Oh, I do apologise. I feel more secure in the darkness, let me get that for you." Chrysoprase reached out casually and flipped the lightswitch by the door.
Several things barraged their senses at once. The first was a burst of unnaturally bright light which lasted only a few seconds but blinded the eyes for many more. The second was a piercing shriek that grated on the eardrum like fingernails down a blackboard. The third was a gout of thick, billowing smoke from a grate near the roof and another in the corner of the room. The fourth was the pungent odour of lavender with a hint of sulphur. The fifth was a series of surprised, pained, muffled cries, followed by the sound of the door slamming to and being locked from the outside. Finally, there was the sound of footfalls making their hasty way downstairs.
"Shit!" Carrot hissed, standing and trying to blink the stinging fog out of his eyes. "Shit!"
"S-some kind of emergency escape m-mechanism?" said Ron, spluttering the words through a choking cough.
Carrot threw himself at the door and tried the door handle, but it was locked tight from the other side. Frustrated, he hammered on it with his fists. "Angua, help me! He's getting away!" He turned to the prone shape on the floor. "Angua?"
Angua made a strange, strangled noise. "The...smell..." she croaked.
Carrot wrenched himself away from the door, mastering himself as best he could. "It's alright, Angua, just stand up... Ron, help her." Carrot glanced up at the two sisters, huddled in the corner. "Werewolf nose. More sensitive than ours."
As Ron helped Angua to her feet, Carrot wandered over to the desk and picked up the gun Chrysoprase had been waving about moments ago; it rattled strangely in his grasp. He turned it over and opened the chamber. "It's not loaded," he said in disbelief, then gave it a quick shake. "Hell, by the feel of it, it's not even a real gun. What was he playing at?"
With that, the pressure that had been building up burst like a balloon. Dibbler laughed sourly. "He was doing just that: playing."
Suddenly, the door opened and there stood McGraw.
"Who are you?" asked Carrot.
"I'm Katy McGraw, the one who called you. Much good it did, I see."
"Why would you call-" Dibbler managed, before the fog snatched the air from her lungs.
"I heard DeRonde getting angry and feared for your lives. I reassessed my actions, you could say," McGraw said curtly.
"Where did he go?" asked Carrot, cutting across her.
"He took off running down one of the back alleys. I doubt very much you'll catch him." She gave a laboured sigh. "But you've got me, and I daresay you want some answers."
__________________________
Click here for Part 3.
Part two of chapter 15. Hey, I managed to update in under a month! That must be a record for me! Anyway, last time Cheery resolved to get to the bottom of the PlantSim mystery and inadvertently involved Dibbler and Druellae. The sisters broke in to McGraw's house and found a hidden door, and that's just where we left off...
The door opened into a small, dark room where two hydroponic farms let off an icy light. Dibbler quickly turned on a nearby lamp so the sisters could examine them properly.
"Weird. What do you suppose these are?" said Dibbler, rubbing a leaf experimentally and sniffing her fingers. "Smells kind of spicy. Ellie? This is your area."
Druellae shrugged. "No idea. Some kind of herb?"
"Next question."
"Shoot."
"What's through there?"
"I was wondering that myself."
Dibbler squared her shoulders purposefully. "Only one way to find out."
Druellae took a steadying breath, trying not to let on how unsettled she was by the turn of events. She couldn't help but feel amused at how her sister was more into this than she was. Oh, the irony.
Dibbler found the door unlocked. It was well maintained, and opened slowly and noiselessly. Druellae urged herself to follow, shutting the door behind them.
What lay behind the door robbed them of the ability to speak. The room was filled with stark pens and lit with fluorescent lights that scalded the eyeballs if you looked at them directly. However, it was not the cruel lighting nor the pens themselves that captured the girls' attention so completely, but their tiny, green inhabitants. The minute they entered the room, several pairs of amber eyes turned to watch them with bovine interest. Once the girls had been thoroughly examined, the creatures went back to staring vaguely into a different dimension, swaying slightly where they sat.
"SporeBabies..." Druellae breathed at last.
Suddenly a voice burst through the leaden atmosphere. "Damn you, McGraw, I already told you: no more today! You'd better be gone by the time I turn around or I'll tear you a new windpipe. Don't touch me."
Both girls jumped and looked up to see a previously unnoticed form in a cell at the end of the room.
Dibbler found her tongue first. "Actually, it's not McGraw, and we're here to help you. So I'd consider a better choice of words if I were you."
"Thanks for the suggestions," the PlantSim snarled. "I'll file it under 'shit I don't care about' with the rest of the stuff in my life."
Dibbler and Druellae shared a disbelieving look. "Didn't you hear me? I said we're trying to help you."
"Sure, that's what you say. The day I find a Sim who actually cares about me and mine, I'll eat my leaves."
Well, she was behaving a lot more like the PlantSims Cheery described from her teenage years, Druellae reflected.
"Fine. Since you obviously don't want our help, maybe we'll just go," said Dibbler, incensed.
"Nice talking with you."
Druellae finally spoke up. "You've been in this basement a while, huh?"
"Just my whole godsdamn life. That long enough for you?"
"And you're going to let a chance to see the sun slip past so easily?"
"Oh, hell. You may be scumbag Sims, but if you're honestly offering a chance to bust out of this damn basement... So, hit me. What did you have in mind?"
"There's an old Discworld saying: 'It's amazing what you can achieve with hairpins'," said Dibbler wisely. She glanced behind her at the rows of docile SporeBabies and felt her curiosity flare up. "What's going on here?"
"Honestly? I sometimes ask myself the same question," said the PlantSim, losing some of her fire. "All I've ever known are these walls, and that my role in life is to produce SporeBabies for McGraw."
"Why not do something about it? Why not fight back or try to escape?" Druellae asked. The PlantSim certainly appeared spirited.
"Oh, don't think I haven't tried. But whenever I do, McGraw takes away what I need to survive until I submit: she keeps me supplied with light, water and someone to talk to as long as I behave myself."
Druellae's eyes widened. "You can talk to that plant?" she said, deep envy in her voice.
"Of course. All PlantSims can."
"Huh..."
"And the SporeBabies themselves?" Dibbler pressed on.
"They stay in their cells until they reach adulthood, and during that time McGraw feeds them on... some kind of concoction, I don't know. But it seems to keep 'em quiet, like rows of vegetables in a garden. Pun not intended."
Dibbler looked at her sister. "The herbs outside?"
"It's likely," Druellae agreed.
"Now enough chit-chat, are you going to let me out?" the PlantSim snapped impatiently.
Just as Druellae was reaching for one of the pins that held her hair in place, a cold, hostile voice snapped through the air.
"Did you two really think I wouldn't spot you loitering in my flowerbeds? This really is very inconvenient... What a bloody hassle," McGraw said. She sounded more annoyed than angry.
"Oh, bollocks," the PlantSim whispered. Dibbler and Druellae were thinking much along the same lines.
Things had just become a lot more difficult.
The window frame rattled, but held fast. Dibbler shrugged. "Well, it was worth a shot."
In the next room, they could hear McGraw on the phone to - presumably - The Watch. At least, that's what they thought until they heard her say, "...I don't see why I can't call The Watch and be done with it. I presume you have your reasons for not wanting them involved, but- alright, alright, I was only asking...!"
Dibbler turned and glanced at Druellae. If not the authorities, who exactly was discussing their immediate future with McGraw?
"...Yes, hiding in my garden. I noticed just after my home help left for their hostel. I thought it was suspicious but didn't call The Watch on your recommendation, went to take Elise and Adam to their mother's for the night, and came back to find them chatting to you-know-who in the basement.
... I don't know them myself, no, but I swear I recgonise them from someplace.
...Oh, I don't know, fairly non-descript: one has mid-length, dark brown hair and questionable taste in clothing, the other has short red hair and gold-rimmed glasses. Why does that even matter?"
McGraw went quiet, listening, then said, "Fine, we're on our way. It'll take a while because we're walking, though. Oh, and Christopher, they're not to come to any harm, understood? I won't have it.
...Good. We'll be there shortly."
Dibbler hurriedly took her seat as McGraw entered the kitchen, looking tetchy. "Right. On your feet, both of you."
"Where are we going?" Druellae asked, rising uneasily.
"Downtown. Hurry up, hurry up."
"We're not honestly walking are we? It's raining!" Dibbler said indignantly.
"Should have thought about that before you broke into an old woman's house, hmm? And believe you me, I have things I'd rather be doing with my evening, so get a move on."
With that, she herded the two shell-shocked girls out of the house and into the fine mist of rain on the street.
After an hour of walking in the freezing autumn rain, Dibbler's body was protesting loudly. She had no idea what to expect and focused on staying strong for Druellae's sake; her sister looked smaller and more wraith-like with every passing moment. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself and fought down a shiver. Never had she wanted more to be at home counting out money in her scheming chair.
"We're here."
They were outside a dark and seedy looking club in the heart of Downtown, where the buildings crouched sulkily and cast their shadows deep into the gloomy streets. Druellae and Dibbler passed over the threshold with an ever-growing sense of foreboding.
McGraw led them through the smoky main room and up a flight of stairs to a narrow hallway. She rapped on the door with her knuckles before opening it.
"Mr DeRonde, here they are. Remember what I asked you on the phone, please."
A smirk was visible on the man's face underneath his impressive fedora. "Why must you always assume the worst of me, madam? Thank you, I'll ask you to wait outside now."
McGraw left the room with quick steps, the wedge of light narrowing and winking out as she closed the door, plunging the room into almost complete darkness.
The man made himself comfortable before speaking. "Hello, girls. My, how you've grown."
"Shut up! We know you're up to something in that basement, and we'll see you pay for it! Now let us go, you bastard!" Dibbler shouted, praying she could drown out the fear in her voice with sheer volume.
To her dismay, the man chuckled disparagingly. "That's not very polite, Dibbler. Didn't your mother teach you to respect your elders and betters?"
Dibbler's blood froze as he spoke her name. It sounded soiled coming from his lips. "Yeah, well. You only fulfill one of those categories, as far as I'm concerned."
"Mm," he said. A troubled shadow passed over his face and he stood up, moving around his desk. "You really don't know who I am, do you." It wasn't a question.
"No. Should we?" said Dibbler.
Druellae was staring into the man's face with wide, frightened eyes. "Dibs... He- he looks like uncle Cohen."
"And the penny drops!" DeRonde shouted gleefully, throwing his arms wide into a gesture that was anything but warm.
Dibbler studied his face and, now she was looking for them, saw the similarities: same brown eyes, same proud, jutting nose...
"Who are you?!" Dibbler cried, frustration mounting inside her.
"Well, these days I go by the name Christopher DeRonde. It makes things easier for me. However, there was a time I was called-"
"-Chrysoprase Discworld." He smiled expectantly as though this should mean something to them.
There was a long pause. "...So, you're our uncle?" Dibbler said finally.
The smile dropped from Chrysoprase's face. "Come on. Cheery must have at least mentioned me?"
"I don't think so," Dibbler hazarded.
"Oh, now that's great. That's really the icing, that is. Thank you, Cheery. Thank you," Chrysoprase snarled, pacing back to the window to gaze out at the rain.
"So. Not only do you cut me out of the family like a tumour, make no attempt to so much as reach out and find me... but you go far as to deny my very existence to your own daughters? To tell them what happened?"
"Err," said Dibbler eloquently. "Sorry, I guess?"
"If you're a Discworld, you must have known. You must have known they were family; the PlantSims," said Druellae.
Chrysoprase whipped around to face her, a glint flickering in his eye. He struck the table hard with his fist as he turned, making both girls jump, and when he spoke his voice was coarse and furious.
"Haven't you listened to a word I've said, little girl? I did it because they're family! I did it because I knew it would hurt. I knew you'd feel the sting and look - here you are!
"That dithery old woman, Kate McGraw, turned up desperate on my doorstep years ago seeking funding for her PlantSim research. She must have been desperate to come to this side of town. Well, I had money to throw her way, and I saw a chance to get back at the family who deserted me. My family. My own family!
"But I digress. I found this way of life suited me well. I used my skills, just like Desdemona told me too."
At that, his face collapsed as he became swamped in his memories. "Desdemona..." he repeated softly. "Dear friend... I hope you would not hate me to see me now..."
"I still don't understand," said Dibbler sharply, cutting through his reverie. "Why do all this? Was it really just to satisfy some long-held grudge against our mother?"
"Oh, the gritty questions. You'll go far, Dibbler. I see a lot of myself in you." The comment made Dibbler's insides seethe.
"It just doesn't make any sense. You've spent so much time, so much money, and involved all these other people. Hell, you've started an independent business, just to get back at us. It never occurred to you to pick up the phone and call?"
Chrysoprase smiled strangely. "Ah, the easy way. Let's just say it's never been my style. I had an opportunity, I had the money... why not? You see, by the time McGraw called on me, The Cavern had become a successful money earner and I had been operating under the name DeRonde for a good few months. She still has no idea who I really am, the silly woman.
"And what fun it's been, watching McGraw, your PlantSim friends and, indeed, yourselves run about like rats in a maze. Observing behaviour is one of my interests, you see."
A shudder coursed through Dibbler's body. This man - this twisted man - had been watching her whole family for months, possibly longer. That was prime-time entertainment for him. Suddenly she felt very exposed and vulnerable.
"Take your good selves, for example. Druellae. Sweet, nature-loving Druellae. Never done so much as dropped a lolly wrapper in your life, have you? And to think of those grand injustices against your leafy kin... why, it must have torn your heart out. Such a good heart, too. Such a likable young lady. But that's just the problem, isn't it? Liked by many, loved by none. Tell me, how are things with Winston?"
Druellae's face took on a hue more commonly associated with chilli peppers. "I-I don't..."
"No? That's what I thought," said Chrysoprase. "And you, Dibbler. I must say, my dear, I admire you. You have grit, you don't let anything stand in your way and you - how does that saying go - dance to the beat of your own drum. And oh, how I pity any man who finds himself between you and a pile of cash. In fact, I understand you even tried to sell your own sister a few years back-"
Dibbler threw her hands up. "Oh, for the love of... I wasn't serious! Why does everyone keep bringing that up?!"
"But you'll go a long way for a good payoff, won't you Dibbler?" Chrysoprase read correctly into Dibbler's silence and grinned. "Alright, so if I did this..."
He opened a drawer and retrieved a chequebook, then sat down and pulled out a pen with a flourish. "How does a hundred thousand sound? Payable directly to Miss Dibbler Discworld."
Druellae's hand shot out and grasped Dibbler's elbow, warning her to be careful. "What is this?" Dibbler asked uncertainly. "I don't need that, my family is rich enough-"
"-Ah, but that money will only pass to you if you are the Heir to the Legacy, Dibbler. This money would be yours. And true, you don't need it. But do you want it? That's a whole different story. Call it sixteen years of birthday presents from uncle Chryssy."
"Dibbler..." Druellae whispered. Dibbler heard the terror in her sister's voice through the fog of her internal monologue.
It's a trick! $100,000. Don't take it, you can't trust him. That'll get you far if you use it right. $100,000. This guy obviously isn't right in the head. $100,000. It's a safeguard in case you don't get the Heirship. You'll barely see any of the family money if you're not the Heir, that's a big risk. No! Don't take it. $100,000. He's enjoying this; don't give $100,000 him the satisfaction $100,000 of taking $100,000 the $100,000 money. $100,000 $100,000 $100,000.
Chrysoprase grunted and hammered his hands on the table. "Too long! Too long! Look, take it! Don't you want it? Gods!"
Dibbler didn't move; her brain felt like it had been reduced to slurry.
"You're hurting my feelings here, Dibbler sweetheart," Chrysoprase sighed. "I'm just trying to do something nice for my favourite niece. What, do I need to offer you some extra incentive? Hmm?"
The next thing Dibbler knew, there was a gun in Chrysoprase's hands, aimed directly at Druellae.
"If you don't do the gracious thing and accept this cheque, I'll just shoot your sister. Seems only fair, don't you agree? I'll count to three. One." He cocked the gun.
"No!" Druellae screamed, recoiling.
"Two."
"Stop!!" Dibbler sprang forward and snatched the cheque out of his hand. "I've got the cheque, okay?! Now please, put the gun down!"
"Spoilsport," Chrysoprase complained. "Hm. You know what, I've changed my mind. Give it back."
"I don't even want it!" Dibbler cried, not moving. Lies.
"Give it back, or you're walking out of here alone, Dibbler!"
"You've got to be kidding me..." Dibbler made to slide the cheque back on the table.
"Ah, ah!" Chrysoprase said, waving the gun. "No, no! The rules haven't changed! You sure you want to do that?"
"What am I supposed to do?!" Dibbler screamed. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was on fire.
"You tell me!" Chrysoprase said cheerfully.
When Dibbler made no response, Chrysoprase shrugged and said, "Ah, go ahead, take the cheque. And how about I go ahead and remove one more complication from your lives, while I'm at it?"
Dibbler dared to nod, brain reeling.
"Very well." Chrysoprase raised the gun to his own temple, watching their reactions through slitted eyes.
"Don't!" Druellae cried. "Please, stop this! Please! I'm sorry for everything- everything that's led you to be what you are. This doesn't need to happen. Please."
"But it's such a pretty toy, don't you agree?" Chrysoprase asked, not lowering the weapon. "Seems a shame not to use it, and it might as well be on me."
"It doesn't have to be!"
"Well, if you insist..." Chrysoprase swung the gun out, almost lazily, this time aiming at Dibbler.
Suddenly, the door exploded inwards, crashing on its hinges.
"Christopher DeRonde, drop your weapon! You're under arrest!" ordered Constable Angua Ironfounderrson, drawing her own gun.
"Anything you say can and... will... be..." Carrot's authoritative tone faded as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. "Chrys?"
"How delightful! The fuzz! Literally, in some cases," Chrysoprase added, glancing at Angua.
"Chrys," Carrot repeated quietly, staring into his brother's face.
"Psst, Carrot... ain't he your brother?"
"Shut up, Captain Obvious," said Angua. "Chrysoprase Discworld. Drop the gun."
"You only had to ask," said Chrysoprase, setting it on the table.
"Chrys. What are you doing here?" Carrot asked.
"Phoo, it's a long story, little brother. Pull up a chair why don't you?"
"This is not the time, Captain," urged Angua.
"I've been looking for you... and you've been hiding in Downtown Ankh-Morpork all this time?"
"Well! At least someone was." Chrysoprase shot a look at the two sisters. "And don't feel too bad about not finding me, Carrot. I've gone to some lengths to cover my tracks. Although, any watchman worth his mettle would have found me easy as breathing."
"Captain!" said Angua sharply. Carrot stood stock still, trembling slightly.
"Why did you do it, Chrys? You murdered your own brother; your own flesh and blood."
Chrysoprase rolled his eyes. "Oh, quit making such a fuss! He got better, didn't he? And for what it's worth, I didn't mean to kill him. It was an accident. Cohen attacked me. During the scuffle, he fell back and hit his head on the stove. Oh, did he leave out that detail? How funny. This family is full of secrets, apparently." Chrysoprase raised his eyebrows. "I'm many things, Carrot. A murderer isn't one of them."
Carrot shook himself. "That changes nothing. You're a criminal and you're coming with us."
"Your turn to play the hero, is it, Carrot? Ah, this is your moment of shining glory after all these years of living in the shadows! Poor, predictable, boring old Carrot finally brings his evil brother to justice. Look, I'll even come quietly." He walked forwards, holding his wrists together in a gesture of deference.
Angua and Ron kept their guns trained on Chrysoprase as Carrot went for the cuffs with shaking hands. He fumbled them and swore under his breath. "Damn... how you get anything done in this light is beyond me..." he muttered, finally getting the cuffs unhooked.
"Oh, I do apologise. I feel more secure in the darkness, let me get that for you." Chrysoprase reached out casually and flipped the lightswitch by the door.
Several things barraged their senses at once. The first was a burst of unnaturally bright light which lasted only a few seconds but blinded the eyes for many more. The second was a piercing shriek that grated on the eardrum like fingernails down a blackboard. The third was a gout of thick, billowing smoke from a grate near the roof and another in the corner of the room. The fourth was the pungent odour of lavender with a hint of sulphur. The fifth was a series of surprised, pained, muffled cries, followed by the sound of the door slamming to and being locked from the outside. Finally, there was the sound of footfalls making their hasty way downstairs.
"Shit!" Carrot hissed, standing and trying to blink the stinging fog out of his eyes. "Shit!"
"S-some kind of emergency escape m-mechanism?" said Ron, spluttering the words through a choking cough.
Carrot threw himself at the door and tried the door handle, but it was locked tight from the other side. Frustrated, he hammered on it with his fists. "Angua, help me! He's getting away!" He turned to the prone shape on the floor. "Angua?"
Angua made a strange, strangled noise. "The...smell..." she croaked.
Carrot wrenched himself away from the door, mastering himself as best he could. "It's alright, Angua, just stand up... Ron, help her." Carrot glanced up at the two sisters, huddled in the corner. "Werewolf nose. More sensitive than ours."
As Ron helped Angua to her feet, Carrot wandered over to the desk and picked up the gun Chrysoprase had been waving about moments ago; it rattled strangely in his grasp. He turned it over and opened the chamber. "It's not loaded," he said in disbelief, then gave it a quick shake. "Hell, by the feel of it, it's not even a real gun. What was he playing at?"
With that, the pressure that had been building up burst like a balloon. Dibbler laughed sourly. "He was doing just that: playing."
Suddenly, the door opened and there stood McGraw.
"Who are you?" asked Carrot.
"I'm Katy McGraw, the one who called you. Much good it did, I see."
"Why would you call-" Dibbler managed, before the fog snatched the air from her lungs.
"I heard DeRonde getting angry and feared for your lives. I reassessed my actions, you could say," McGraw said curtly.
"Where did he go?" asked Carrot, cutting across her.
"He took off running down one of the back alleys. I doubt very much you'll catch him." She gave a laboured sigh. "But you've got me, and I daresay you want some answers."
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Click here for Part 3.