Chapter 4
The Assassins Guild was a busy place today - it was the start of the school year and families were milling around the entrance hall, and in the front courtyard, doing last minute checks of whether little Thomas had enough underwear and socks, how little Edward managed to smuggle his puppy into his luggage, and where had little Susan found that crossbow? Oh, her grandmother had slipped it into her bag, well alright then.
Senior members of staff moved among the chaos in black robes and with stern faces, marking names off, shaking parents hands, shouting at the porters.
Among the chaos, a small blonde girl sat calmly on top of her luggage, her eyes taking in everything and filing it away for later examination. She wore a simple black dress, the kind of simple that costs a great deal of money. A black hat, vaguely bonnet-shaped and adorned with starling feathers and a black net veil, sat on the case beside her. She was in the process of unbuttoning her black gloves, exposing her slender and pale wrists, when a boy who looked to be slightly older sauntered over and stood in front of her, looking her up and down and examining the make of her luggage.
Seemingly satisfied, he said “I’m Nathanel Selachii- “, leaving a pause for her to be impressed in, and seeming slightly disconcerted when there no indication that she was. He had already mastered the art of talking down his nose and did so now.
“And who might you be?” he asked.
The girl looked at him with a bored expression.
“Rachel Duncan.” Her voice was emotionless, yet somehow suggested the speaker was incredulous that this was not already common knowledge.
Nathanels eyes widened briefly and he took an involuntary step backwards.
The Duncans were an old, old family, and rivaled his own in wealth and breeding. His parents were friends of theirs: by high society standards, this meant they despised each other but did so over sherry and polite dinner conversation. He had been aware that there was a daughter but had never laid eyes on her before now. Rumour had it she had been sent to stay with relatives in Überwald after a rather nasty house fire ruined half of the Duncans country property last spring. Why her parents didn’t just bring her back to Ankh-Morpork with them was a subject Nathanel’s parents had discussed over dinner in that particular guarded way of adults trying to circumvent their children's natural curiosity.
It had certainly been heavily implied that the child had started the fire. Whether deliberately, for fun or attempted parenticide (or both), or accidently (his father had scoffed at that suggestion).
What was certain that her parents were more comfortable with Rachel several thousand miles away. But now she was of an age to attend school, the Assassins Guild was one of the finest educational institutions on the Disc, and the Duncans were certainly not going to allow their only daughter to waste her sanguinary talents in the dark and distant mountains. Besides, the Guild was a boarding school, so they had the advantage of knowing where she was while not actually having to interact with her. And she could learn how to mingle with children of other high society families, and possibly even make a friend or two.
Rachel thought this was highly unlikely.
Nathanel recovered himself, and gave Rachel a shallow bow, mumbling something about a pleasure to meet her. Her eyebrow twitched and she looked almost as if she were enjoying his now-apparent nervousness.
“I can show you to the dorms,” he offered. “Good to get in early, get a good bunk…”
Rachel exhaled through her nose, amused.
“Oh, no. I won’t be sleeping in the dormitory. I requested a private room.” She smiled fleetingly. “Thank you anyway.” Her gaze drifted back over the crowds, head tilted to the side.
The boy gaped at her. A private room? No first year had ever been allowed a private room before. Even the senior students had to plead their case. He looked down at the smooth blonde head, determined to somehow get her on side. He cast around for something to converse about, but all he could think about was his mother murmuring “They barely got out, you know. The entire east wing was completely destroyed.”
But he couldn’t very well ask her if she had intended to kill her own parents. For one thing, he suspected she would probably tell him in that emotionless voice, and he wouldn’t know how to react. Better luck next time, old chap?
Rachel’s eyes moved over the other students - boring - and onto the huge iron gates that opened out onto the square. More people milling about in the great street theatre that was Ankh-Morpork. Her attention was caught by two girls who ran past, arms flailing and legs pumping. The blonde one was screaming with laughter, waving a slingshot, while the dark-haired one was shouting back over her shoulder and making various hand gestures that Rachel had never seen before, but were quite clearly impolite.
If her face hadn’t been so perfectly composed, so coldly inscrutable, it may have expressed a mixture of mild interest and vague envy at the chaotic freedom these filthy urchins represented.
She sniffed and looked away, focusing her gaze on the massive front doors of the Guild, fingers tapping on her luggage as she waited. She was six years old, and her future lay ahead of her like a slab of stone, milestones chiseled into it at intervals. School. Graduation (Very Most High Distinction or nothing). Introduction to Society. Marriage. Children. But Rachel had her own Plans. Ankh-Morpork was a pit of chaos and corruption. It needed to be controlled and tamed and guided.
Rachel Duncan thought about the one time she had been inside the Patrician's Palace, and seen the old golden throne. She'd snuck off to touch it, wanting to feel the cold heaviness of the precious metal, and had been bitterly disappointed to find the gold scraped off and the throne was wood underneath. But it had taught her something about appearances and deception, the folly of expectations and the importance of symbols.
She smoothed her dress down and smiled politely as one of the teachers finally noticed her and headed her over, with a strange kind of hurried reluctance.
"Rachel Duncan, yes?" the teacher ticked off her name on the scroll and tapped his pen nervously. "Mantis House. Er. The porter will take up your luggage to the.." -confused checking of his notes - "oh, to your room. Miss Duncan. Welcome to the Guild." Nodding in what he hoped was a dignified manner, but putting Rachel in mind of nothing more than one of those bobbly-headed dogs she'd seen in the maidservants rooms, he wandered off to the next family.
Rachel picked up her gloves and hat, and waited patiently to be shown her room.
She was good at waiting.