Fast forward from Thud about six years. Take a stroll down to Frout Academy. Attempt to silently hid, unseen by the three people in the classroom for seven year olds. Don't try too hard. Miss Susan sees you. Miss Susan sees everyone.
The characters in this belong entirely, and without any doubt, to Sir Terry Pratchett. A few references do as well.
Susan looked across at the couple before her. The woman sat imperiously before her, her hands neatly folded and laying graciously in her lap. She had the air of someone both very, very rich and someone who had been to dozens of these appointments. She had carefully regarded every aspect of Susan's appearance, from her hair down to her shoes, and had decided that she looked acceptable. A nod had allowed the interview to begin. The man, however, had nervously and skeptically regarded the room. He treated everything with suspicion, as though a criminal was about to jump out of the story book, or the teddy bear in the corner was going to come at him, waving a knife. His helmet had been reluctantly removed and carefully placed at the edge of her desk. His truncheon and sword rested against his chair, almost as uneasily as their owner. After he had examined the room in full, he sized her up. Susan caught his nod, although it was almost imperceptible, because Susan caught everything.
Her Grace, Lady Sybil Vimes, nee Ramkins, after a few moments of silence in which Susan made perfectly clear that they were to start the interview, asked, "Who are you?"
"Miss Susan, Your Grace."
The question was clear, although Susan was usually able to avoid it, "Susan Sto Helit."
Sybil's eyes popped out of her head,* "What is a duchess doing teaching seven year olds?"
"Someone has to." Susan replied calmly.
Samuel Vimes, Duke of Anhk-Morpork, Commander of the Watch nodded in agreement, "You don't cause trouble do you?"
"If I were to commit a crime," Susan said, "It would not me one anyone would ever find out about."
"Where did you go to school?" Asked Sybil, determined to get the interview on the track that she wanted it on.
"The Quirm College for Young Ladies." Susan answered primly.
Sybil nodded. "I have heard…rumors." Sybil said diplomatically,** "That you expose the children you teach to the occult."
"What do you mean?" Susan sighed.
"Witches and such."
"Oh. Then, yes, I do."
"Why?" Sybil cried.
"So they won't be surprised." Susan looked at the couple before her. The commander was currently trying to inconspicuously smoke, and Sybil looked dumbstruck. She snapped her fingers.
Leaning forward, Susan said to Sybil, MY GOODNESS, THE HEADMISTRESS NEVER MENTIONED THIS. I MUST SEE HER AT ONCE TO FIND OUT WHAT IS GOING ON. SAM CAN CONTINUE THIS CONVERSATION SOMEWHAT SUCCESSFULLY.
Susan sat back, snapped her finger and calmly folded her hands, "Your Grace?"
Sybil stared at her blankly for a second before she regained control of her mind. "Sam, I have to discuss something with the headmistress. Do continue the interview."
"Yes, Sybil." Sam Vimes nodded. His wife smiled at him, nodded at Susan and left the room.
"Well," Sam thought for a moment, "let's see. You are a duchess, yes? So I don't think this 'Your Grace' business is necessary. Commander Vimes will do just as well, if you want to mess around like that."
Susan smiled, "Alright, Commander. What are your questions?"
"Now, I know that you aren't all you seem. A duchess, Miss Susan, does not teach seven year olds. Not unless she's lost all of her money, has no friends left in the world, and has nothing better to do."
"Maybe I would just rather be a normal, everyday person Commander." Susan smiled.
"Cut from the wrong cloth then." He lit his cigar, "Look, Miss Susan, everyone who lives a normal everyday sort of life hates it. No one wants to live that way."
"Did you sir?"
"Miss Susan, let me be frank. You're lying to me. And not telling me something is lying, even if you work with seven year olds. It really is."
Susan stared at the Commander. It would be easy, so easy just to pull the same thing she did on the Duchess as on him. But, shoot***, she liked him. He was honest, straight forward, and a very good copper. He understood people, even if it wasn't people like her. But people like her were still people. Tell him the truth? Maybe. He had probably seen her grandfather a number of times. They could even be good friends. Commander Sam Vimes may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, heck, he could even be a spoon.**** Susan sighed, after a moment and made up her mind.
"Commander Vimes, you're right. I am not telling you everything. But only a few people know the truth. A few of them happen to be dead. Most are Wizards."
Vimes nodded, "Alright. I've a few secrets that only a bunch of monks understand, and one patrician."
"Well, I could include him, but I'm not sure." Susan took a breath, "My Grandfather is Death."
"Death." Vimes said woodenly.
"The sword, the scythe, the granddaughter. Yes."
"Seen him a few times."
"I thought you might have."
"Not a bad chap, as it is." He let out a puff of smoke. "Don't think I'll tell Sybil."
"That, Commander is up to you. I do know, however, that due to being his granddaughter, I will be able to give your son the best education available."
"What can you do to ensure that?"
Susan looked at him, and smiled, "Well…let's say there are certain skills that the normal, everyday person doesn't have."
Vimes nodded. "Well, you've made up my mind. Let's just hope that Sybil agrees."
The First Day of School
"You'll never believe what Miss Susan did today!"
"What?" Sybil asked, guarded.
"She took us to Klatch! We saw a hippo! A man made of all bones with a white horse came!"
Sybil raised her eyebrows, but the Commander smiled, "Wow. Do you have any homework?"
"Yeah!" Young Sam smiled and waved a paper in front of his dad. "We have to write a letter to the Bone man!"
"Well, you get to that." Sam pointed up the stairs. After Young Sam was in his room, Sybil crossed her arms.
"What an imagination he has."
*Although not literally
**Vimes thought it was a good idea that one of them had diplomatic skills. He just didn't want to be that one.
***Blame the seven year olds again.
****Something about Sam Vimes inspires everyone to think this. No one knows why.
I hope you had fun reading this! Please review!