Turtle Recall: The Discworld Companion ... So Far

by Terry Pratchett

  Nor have the Tezumen discovered paper, or even wax tablets. Their pictographic language is chiselled into blocks of granite, allowing the more depressed members of the tribe to beat themselves to death with their own suicide notes.

  The country is known for its organic market gardens, exquisite craftsmanship in obsidian, feathers and jade, and its mass sacrifices in honour of QUEZOVERCOATL. Their music sounds like someone clearing a particularly difficult nostril. [E]

  Thargum I. Red-bearded past king of LANCRE. When he was killed (poisoned by the father of VERENCE I) they stuck his head on a pole and carried it around the village to show that he was dead, an exercise that everyone thought was very convincing. Then they had a big bonfire and everyone in the palace got drunk for a week. No one remembers now whether Thargum was particularly good or bad. Lancre people are traditionalists and aren’t choosy about their monarchs, but the greatest sin an incumbent of the throne can commit is not acting like a proper king. [WS]

  Thaum. The basic and traditional unit of magical strength. It has been universally established as the amount of magic needed to create one small white pigeon or three normal-sized billiard balls (a smaller measure for purposes of calculation is the millithaum). A thaumometer is used to measure the density of a magical field. It is a dark blue glass cube, with a dial on the front and a button on the side.

  In Unseen University’s High Energy Magic building the thaum has been successfully demonstrated to be made up of resons (lit: ‘thing-ies’) or reality fragments. Current research indicates that each reson is itself made up of a combination of at least five ‘flavours’, known as ‘up’, ‘down’, ‘sideways’, ‘sex appeal’ and ‘peppermint’.

  Students at UU have discussed the possibility of the power to be gained from splitting the thaum on an industrial basis, but have been dissuaded by their superiors on the grounds that this would make the place untidy.

  (See also PRIME.)

  Thaumaturgists. Many spells require things like mould from a corpse dead of crushing, or the semen of a living tiger, or the root of a plant that gives an ultrasonic scream when it is uprooted. Who is sent to get them? Right.

  Thaumaturgists receive no magical schooling. They can just about be trusted to wash out an alembic. They are the lowest rung of the hierarchy of magical practitioners – apart from witches, of course. That’s the wizards’ view. [ER]

  Thieves’ Guild. Motto: ACVTVS ID VERBERAT (‘Whip it quick’). Coat of arms: a shield with alternate bars of sable and argent. On it a bourse, coupé.

  Originally known as the Guild of Thieves, and then the Guild of Thieves, Cutpurses, Housebreakers and Allied Trades and latterly the Guild of Thieves, Burglars and Allied Trades, purse-cutting having fallen out of favour.

  Despite its pretensions to ghastly brigandage and claims to venerable antiquity – based on a perceived descent from the ancient gangs that roamed the city – the Guild is a young and very respectable body which in a practical sense represents the major law enforcement agency in Ankh-Morpork.

  The Guild is given an annual quota which represents a socially acceptable level of thefts and muggings, and in return sees to it in very definite and final ways that unofficial crime is not only stamped out but also knifed, garrotted, dismembered and left around the city in an assortment of paper bags. In keeping the lid on unofficial crime they have turned out to be far more efficient than the WATCH, who could only cut crime by working harder – the Guild, on the other hand, has only to work less. All of this works so effectively that when, in the Year of the Engaging Sloth, the Guild declared a General Strike, the level of crime actually doubled.

  This formal system, introduced by Lord VETINARI, is held to be a cheap and enlightened arrangement (except by those malcontents who are actually mugged or robbed and refuse to see it as their social duty). It enables the thieves to plan a decent career structure, entrance examinations and codes of conduct similar to those adopted by the city’s other professions – which, the gap not being very wide in any case, they have rapidly come to resemble. The Guild have also introduced a complex system of annual budgeting, licensing, chits and allowances to see that (a) the members can make a reasonable living, and (b) no citizen is robbed or assaulted more than an agreed number of times. Many farsighted citizens in fact arrange to get an acceptable minimum amount of theft, assault, etc., over at the beginning of the year, often in the privacy of their own homes, and are therefore able to walk the streets quite safely for the rest of the year. A number of small firms operate under the auspices of the Guild, offering attentive and personal service to this end.

  It is probably unnecessary to point out that the system is less advantageous to the thieves than at first seems to be the case. Firstly, an awful lot of energy is expended on internal Guild politics. Secondly, almost all the crime in the city is controlled by the Guild Council, who therefore have themselves to stamp out non-Guild criminals. Thirdly, if there is any trouble Lord Vetinari now knows where they all live.

  TOUR OF THE GUILD BUILDING

  The casual visitor to Ankh-Morpork can hardly fail to be impressed by the curious facade, or indeed facades, of the THIEVES’ GUILD, sited at one of the most prestigious locations in the city.

  It occupies the formerly derelict Ankh-Morpork Court House on the corner of the Street of Alchemists and Lower Broad Way, and many have remarked how good it is to see this fine building back once more in the hands of what, broadly speaking, is a part of the legal profession.

  The frontage is still very much that of the Court House, a heavily crenellated and portcullis’d facade in Century of the Cheesemite style. The city coat of arms is of course over the entrance and the dome above, designed by Sir Cranleigh Stamp, is topped by the figure of Justice, holding a bag of gold in one hand and a set of scales in the other. (Once upon a time, for about the first twelve hours of its existence, the figure was gilded; now it is plated in brass.)

  Moving up the stone steps past the mock Tsortean pillars, the visitor should take the time to admire the magnificent carved wooden doors, the work of the renowned artist Ralph ‘Grumbling’ Gibbons. Gibbons, although an exquisite wood carver, was not a happy man and, five days after completing the doors, he killed himself rather messily using a spokeshave.

  The marbled entrance hall of the Guild is lit in daylight hours by sunlight filtering through the ornate dome above. The dome’s stained glass depicts famous moments in the history of thieving – most notably, of course, the theft of fire from the gods by the legendary Fingers Mazda, whose statue stands in the centre of the hall.

  The statue holds aloft the Undying Flame, which never goes out except on Tuesday afternoons when the janitor tops up the oil.

  Ahead of the visitor, beyond the statue, is the magnificent doubled-curved staircase leading to the galleried upper floors, containing the main hall and the offices of the Guild’s principal officers and lecturers. The main hall, three storeys high, has been constructed using wood panelling from the original Ankh-Morpork High Court of Justice, It is used for balls, banquets and examinations. At the end of the main hall is an impressive dais housing an accurate replica of the Throne of Justice on which, it is said, the Kings of Ankh would sit to hear appeals against the judgements of lesser courts. It is now used when the Guild Council sit in judgement on recalcitrant members, or against unlicensed thieves. A lever to one side of the throne operates the complicated mechanism which causes the throne to slide back into the wall behind it and be replaced by the Guild gallows – its woodwork another riot of rococo carving by Grumbling Gibbons.

  Off to one side is the Council chamber. Note how some of the chairs appear to be fixed to the floor, each of them with what appears to be a closed trapdoor behind it? Note the array of buttons arranged unobtrusively by the chairman’s chair? Shortly after its formation the Guild often had to entertain the leaders of gangs who did not wish to affiliate. Shortly after that, affiliations climbed quickly.

  These, then, with the usual offices, dormitor
ies, storerooms and so on, comprise the main part of the original building. The rear of the premises was entirely rebuilt with the peculiar needs of the Guild in mind.

  Pride of place, abutting immediately onto the rear of the courthouse, is a genuine brick-built Thieves’ Kitchen. Tiny windowed, multi-chimneyed, its bottle shape almost dwarfs the original building. The Kitchen is now in fact the social and political centre of the Guild, with the Courthouse building now used primarily for official and civic purposes and anything that requires a tilting chair.

  Within the Kitchen are the Schools of Theft: Burglary, Cutpursing, Pickpocketing, Robbery and Language. Each of these rooms has been designed as an airy and well-equipped lecture hall, with every modern visual aid, including blackboards and . . . Well, blackboards is about it, actually. Oh, and chalk. A multi-media room (with coloured chalk, and crayons) is being built.

  In addition, there are many rag-hung alcoves wherein all aspects of traditional and modern thievery are taught by visiting lecturers, including Acceptable Cheekiness, Jaunty Repartee and Tap-Dancing (see under Pickpockets). There is also a School of Deportment for Gentleman Thieves and, owing to the Patrician’s various decrees that insist that Guild members in most of the disciplines should look the part, there is also a extensive tailoring shop in the basement.

  Outside and effectively constituting the entire rest of the site are the Practical Science Laboratories – where there are climbing walls with drainpipes and ivy (with and without protective spikes), mock-up windows in a variety of styles, and doors and skylights to test the skill of even the most accomplished thief. There are also street scenes that include dummy passers-by with booby-trapped pockets, fake stagecoaches, etc., etc. This area is always crowded on the Guild’s special Sports Days, where the Long Drop, the 100-yard Scarper, the Nick, Skip and Sidle and, of course, the free-style Nonchalant Walk are all very popular, if unusual, events.

  Down some suitable grimy steps are the Guild cellars. Here is the Guild museum, with artefacts from many famous crimes and criminals. The visitor can admire such milestones in the history of theft as the jewel-encrusted jemmy belonging to Claude Tombola who, it is generally accepted, established the genre of Gentlemanly Theft. Here also is the torn, bloodstained tunic once worn by Subaltern Archibald ‘Barmy’ Postillion, the army officer who stole the Green Eye of the Little Yellow Dog in Klatchistan. The dog itself (stuffed) is also on display.

  You will also see, down a further, shorter and narrower flight of stone steps, the dank and uninviting cells used to incarcerate any fortunate individuals whose crimes against the Guild were not so severe as to require the standard death penalty that is the reward for most unlicensed theft. Do not go down that corridor. It is a bad corridor.

  WHY IS THERE STILL A GUILD?

  (An Extract from a Guild Leaflet)

  There has been some grumbling about Guild activities and changes in the Budget, and some people have been saying that perhaps the city can do without the Thieves’ Guild at all. We have the Watch, they say.

  Crime is always with us – well, not with us, as such, obviously, but with civilisation in general – and we owe it to Lord Vetinari for pointing out that, since this is the case, it could be done better.

  And we do it better. And we do it reliably. And we do it traditionally.

  Look at the situation in those cities that do not have Guilds. People don’t know when they are going to be robbed. They don’t know how much will be taken. They live in fear of crime rather than, as in Ankh-Morpork, accepting it as a kind of goods-and-services tax. Why is this? Because they are in the hands of amateurs.

  Take your non-Guild burglar, for example. What does he know about skilled lock picking? Or casing the joint? About being quiet? Nothing. He smashes a window, turns out all the drawers, rummages around where he shouldn’t . . . And that’s only the start of your problems.

  How often have you heard people say ‘I wouldn’t’ve minded, they didn’t take much, but the mess!’ That’s not the work of a Guild burglar! Usually people will not find out they’ve been robbed until the lady next looks for her necklace and finds only our receipt in the box. A Guild burglar takes a pride in his work. In fact, some of our clients have been so kind as to inform us that the only reason they suspected a break-in was when they saw that the dressing table had been dusted and the cat had been fed.

  The same applies to street crime. Your non-Guild mugger, now, what does he know about anatomy? Has he been trained to cause the maximum of unconsciousness with the minimum of damage? Will his assistant thoughtfully place a cushion under the client’s head as they sink to the ground? Will the client’s purse, bag or wallet be delivered promptly to their home address minus only the usual Guild fee? We think not!

  And then it should be remembered that a high proportion of Guild income finds its way back to the city treasury in the form of taxes, and a prudent citizen who has carefully kept their Guild receipts will receive a modest reduction in their own personal taxes.

  Of course, we are aware that a number of people are taking advantage of this and trying do-it-yourself crime, in order to cut out the Guild and save a bit of money. There is no law against this. It is the right of everyone to hit themselves over their own head. But I must say that the Guild is now often being called in to sort out DIY crimes that have gone wrong, and we are forced to make a special charge for this service.

  This year we are revising our suite of contracts to offer something for every householder or businessman, whatever their circumstances. All come with a suitable wall badge and personal certificate:

  Special $100 Platinum Badge

  Subject to status, location and availability: Complete immunity from all Guild activities for a full twelve months for a family of up to five people! Our premier service for the busy professional. Comes complete with a handsome gilt badge for the property. People will know you have ‘made it’ as a member of our exclusive Platinum Club.

  The ‘Fortune’ Badge

  A tried and trusted favourite of many citizens. A mere $50 gives a family of five entry to the Guild lottery. This year’s odds against a burglary are twelve to one, mugging nineteen to one (outside the Shades) and a list of the other current odds is available upon application. In addition, there are upper limits to the value of goods taken. It may not be you! Comes with a set of steak knives.

  The ‘Steadfast’ Badge

  Good value at $15. Guild operations will be limited to one break-in or street theft without violence per eighteen months. Comes with musical dog ornament.

  The ‘Fearnaught’ Badge

  A budget bargain at $10. Not more than one mugging (not too hard) or one walk-in theft per year. Comes with free First Aid kit.

  And remember – the Guild badge on the wall of a property is a signal to all non-Guild thieves to Keep Away. The City Watch have rules about what they can do to arrested non-Guild thieves. We don’t.

  Thighbiter, Jethrod. Author of The Ankh-Morpork Succession, the definitive history of the Ankh-Morpork monarchy. [MAA]

  Thogsdaughter, Gloria. A schoolfriend of Susan Sto Helit. A dwarf. She has a beard a foot long, which is plaited and tied in ribbons in the school colours. [SM]

  Thog the Butcher. A one-time member of the Silver Horde, athough no longer with them when they attacked the Agatean Empire. Somewhat troubled by a prostate problem. [IT]

  Thrum. A member of the Lancre Morris Men team. Not a participant in the events of Lords and Ladies, however, having been injured during an attempt at the notorious Stick and Bucket Dance. [LL]

  Thud. A game of tactics and skill played with 8 troll pieces and thirty-two dwarf pieces.

  Thundergust, Grabpot. Proprietor of a cosmetics mill in Hobfast Street, Ankh-Morpork. His products are labelled ‘The Halls of Elven Perfume & Rouge Co.’, and he has a new range called ‘Ladies’ Secrets’. A fine example of the dwarfish tendency to project a tough, hard-drinking outer image while quietly getting on with making corsetry or whatever. [WS, MAA]
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  Thursley, Eric. A self-styled demonologist, of Midden Lane, Pseudopolis. He is nearly fourteen when RINCEWIND encounters him: slim, quite short, dark-haired, with glasses. His face would be a lot better if his acne cleared up, and his general aura would improve with more frequent washing. [E]

  Tick, Miss Perspicacia. Absolutely not a teacher of witchcraft, but pretty close; her role is to tour out-of-the-way districts for girls whose destinies clearly have a tick against the box marked ‘witch’. A sort of ‘witch finder’; she keeps a magical look-out for girls who show promise and finds them an older witch to help them along. She certainly possesses some of those attributes – sharpness, irony, two pens with different coloured inks – traditionally associated with teaching. A known method she adopts is to attach herself to a wandering group of PERIPATETICS TEACHERS and pitch her small black tent amongst their gaudy stalls.

  Any girl who enters after reading the notice on the flap, which says: ‘I can teach you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry’ is probably halfway to being a witch already. She has a stealth hat (it’s only pointy when it’s safe to point) hates broomsticks and – fortuitously, since she must often visit areas where witches are not popular and tend to be thrown into ponds with their hands and feed tied together – has a small book of escapology and a Gold Swimming Certificate from Quirm College For Young Ladies. [TWFM]

  Tiddles, Mr. Large, black and white cat at the Ankh-Morpork Post Office. He is twenty years old and very set in his ways – he cannot tolerate furniture being moved and often grinds to a standstill if things are not where he expects them to be. Tiddles is not so much his name, more of a description [GP]

  Tilden, Captain. One-time head of the Ankh-Morpork City WATCH. Had a brass ear and a wooden leg. At the time of the events of Night Watch, he was a man of seventy, with a skinny face, faded blue eyes and a bristling moustache. He was an ex-military man having served with Lord Venturi’s Medium Dragoons and he was given the Night Watch post as a kind of pension. He set a lot of store by shiny breast plates and smartness on parade. As a copper he was useless, but is fondly remembered by those who knew him as a man who did his best. [NW]