In a Weary World

Chapter XV: The Palace

...no maddened cackle from Black Aliss of infamous memory, no evil little giggle from some crazed Vampyre whose morals were worse than his spelling, no side-splitting guffaw from the most inventive torturer, was quite so unnerving as a happy little chuckle from a Granny Weatherwax about to do what's best. -- Terry Pratchett, Maskerade

Hjalmar, usually with Solvej's help, had done many silly, possibly illegal, or just plain weird things over the past months. Breaking into the palace was near the top of the list. Breaking into the palace while pretending to be policemen took the cake.

Owing to a lack of full police uniforms lying around for the taking, they had been forced to make do with helmets and overcoats, which helpfully had embroidered on them the words "Police Force of Vardiholm".

Whatever else could be said of their disguise, convincing it was not. Their original clothes were visible beneath their overcoats, making them look like... well, like they had simply stolen police uniforms. Hjalmar couldn't understand how no one had stopped them yet. Were the people of Therlund really so stupid?

Even more worrying was how easy it was to get into the palace. Solvej, who for some reason knew her way around very well, led him through a maze of narrow streets until they came to a high wall with a thick metal door in it. They waited some distance away from this door for so long that Hjalmar began to feel like a suspicious character.

"I've just remembered!" Solvej exclaimed suddenly. "There's something I have to fetch from my lodgings. Wait here."

"But--" Hjalmar began.

She was gone before he could finish. He glared after her as she disappeared around a corner. A few uncomplimentary remarks about ghosts who dragged you to palaces then abandoned you crossed his mind.

Now what was he to do? Solvej said she was going back to their lodgings, but for all he knew she might be going to buy a flying carpet in Hajfi. Did she expect him to stand about here, looking like a badly-disguised burglar waiting for someone to rob?

He retreated into a nearby corner and tried to look inconspicuous. This was easier said than done, when he wore a policeman's helmet and overcoat over a grey waistcoat and trousers that were quite obviously not part of the police uniform.

Solvej returned much sooner than he expected her to. Under her arm she carried a large box.

"What's happened?" she asked, joining him in the corner.

"Nothing, except I keep thinking the police are about to appear and arrest me again."

She snorted. "Has anyone ever told you you're no fun?"

"You just did," Hjalmar said snippily. "Now, what are we doing here, when will we leave, and what's in that box?" A nasty thought struck him. "It's not explosives, is it?"

The ghost looked at him as if he were out of his mind. "Explosives? Don't be ridiculous! It's a potion. A potion that will make life slightly easier for Rigmor, in fact. I think it should be safe to open that door now."

The abrupt change of subject left Hjalmar reeling. "Wait, you mean we could have opened that door before now, instead of standing around looking suspicious?"

"We could have, but there would have been people around to see us and ask questions. Now come on."

This time she didn't bother with magic. She reached up and pulled a hairpin out of her hair. Hjalmar watched in amazement as she used it to pick the lock.

"Why didn't you do that when we were in prison?" he asked. Had she just wanted to show off her magic skills?

Solvej shifted uncomfortably and looked everywhere except at him. "Well, you see, a surprising situation can make someone overlook something very simple..."