You had to pay close attention to what Lord Vetinari said. Sometimes the words, while clearly docile, had a tendency to come back and bite.
‘Play the football for the Hat,’ said Vetinari.
He looked at their faces. ‘Gentlemen. Gentlemen. Do take a moment to consider this. The importance of the Hat is enhanced. The means by which the wizards strive are not primarily magical. The actual striving and indeed the rivalry will, I think, be good for both universities and people will be interested, whereas in the past when wizards have argued they have had to hide in the cellars. Please do not answer me too quickly, otherwise I will think you have not thought about this enough.’
‘As a matter of fact, I can think very fast indeed,’ said Ridcully. ‘It will simply be no contest. It will be totally unfair.’
‘It certainly will,’ said Henry.
‘Ah, you both feel that it will be totally unfair,’ said Vetinari.
‘Indeed. We have a much younger faculty and the brisk and healthy playing fields of Pseudopolis.’
‘Capital,’ said Lord Vetinari. ‘It seems to me that we have a challenge. University against university. City, as it were, against city. Warfare, as it were, without the tedious necessity of picking up all those heads and limbs afterwards. All things must strive, gentlemen.’
‘I suppose I have to agree,’ said Ridcully. ‘It’s not as if I’m going to lose the Hat in any case. I must note, though, Havelock, that you do not allow many challenges to your position.’
‘Oh, but I am challenged very frequently,’ said Lord Vetinari. ‘It’s just that they don’t win. Incidentally, gentlemen, I did notice in today’s paper that the new voters of Pseudopolis yesterday voted not to have to pay taxes. When you see the president again, please don’t hesitate to tell him that I will be more than happy to advise him when he feels it is necessary. Cheer up, gentlemen. Neither of you has got exactly what you want, but both of you have got exactly what you deserve. If the leopard can change his shorts, a wizard can change his hat. And the leopard must change his shorts, gentlemen, or we are all doomed.’
‘Are you referring to the Loko business?’ said Henry. ‘You needn’t look surprised.’
‘I don’t intend to. I am surprised,’ said Vetinari, ‘but please credit me with not looking surprised unless, of course, there is some advantage in doing so.’
‘We are going to have to do something. The expedition found a nest of the damn things!’
‘Yes. Children, which they killed,’ said Vetinari.
‘Pups that they exterminated!’
‘Indeed? And what do you suggest?’
‘We are talking about a very evil force here!’
‘Archchancellor, I see evil when I look in my shaving mirror. It is, philosophically, present everywhere in the universe in order, apparently, to highlight the existence of good. I think there is more to this theory, but I tend to burst out laughing at this point. I take it that you are behind the idea of an expeditionary force to Far Uberwald?’
‘Of course!’ said the former Dean.
‘It has been tried once before. It was tried twice before that. Why is there a certain cast of the military mind which leads sensible people to do again, with gusto, what didn’t work before?’
‘Force is all they understand. You must know that.’
‘Force is all that’s been tried, Archchancellor Henry. Besides, if they are animals, as some people claim, then they understand nothing, but if, as I am convinced, they are sapient creatures, then some understanding is surely required by us.’
The Patrician took a sip of his beer. ‘I have told this to few people, gentlemen, and I suspect never will again, but one day when I was a young boy on holiday in Uberwald I was walking along the bank of a stream when I saw a mother otter with her cubs. A very endearing sight, I’m sure you will agree, and even as I watched, the mother otter dived into the water and came up with a plump salmon, which she subdued and dragged on to a half-submerged log. As she ate it, while of course it was still alive, the body split and I remember to this day the sweet pinkness of its roes as they spilled out, much to the delight of the baby otters who scrambled over themselves to feed on the delicacy. One of nature’s wonders, gentlemen: mother and children dining upon mother and children. And that’s when I first learned about evil. It is built in to the very nature of the universe. Every world spins in pain. If there is any kind of supreme being, I told myself, it is up to all of us to become his moral superior.’
The two wizards exchanged a glance. Vetinari was staring into the depths of his beer mug and they were glad that they did not know what he saw in there.
‘Is it me or is it rather dark in here?’ said Henry.
‘Good heavens, yes! I forgot about the chandelier!’ exclaimed Ridcully. ‘Where is Mister Nutt?’
‘Here,’ said Nutt, rather closer than Ridcully would have preferred. ‘Why?’
‘I said I would be ready when you needed me, sir.’
‘What? Oh, yes, of course you did.’ He’s short and polite and amazingly helpful, he told himself. Nothing to worry about at all . . . ‘Well, show us how to light the candles, Mister Nutt.’
‘Could I possibly have a fanfare, sir?’
‘I doubt it, young man, but I will bring the Hall to attention.’
Ridcully picked up a spoon and tapped the side of a wine glass, in the time-honoured ‘Look, everybody, I’m trying to make a loud noise very quietly!’ procedure, which has successfully eluded after-dinner speakers ever since the invention of glasses, spoons and dinners.
‘Gentlemen, pray silence, an expectant one, followed by appreciative applause for the lighting of the chandelier!’
There was the silence.
As a round of applause was followed by some more silence, people turned around in their chairs for a better view of nothing to see.
‘Would you please puff on your pipe and hand it to me, sir?’ said Nutt.
Shrugging, Ridcully did so. Nutt took it, raised it in the air and—
What happened? It was a topic of conversation for days. Did the red fire come up from the pipe or down from the ceiling or simply out of the walls? All that was certain was that the darkness was suddenly fractured by glowing zigzags that vanished in a blink, leaving a total blackness which cleared like the sky at dawn as all at once every candle, in perfect unison, glowed into life.
As the applause began to mount, Ridcully looked along the table at Ponder, who waved his thaumometer, shook his head and shrugged.
Then the Archchancellor turned to Nutt, took him out of earshot of the table and for the benefit of watchers shook him by the hand.
‘Well done, Mister Nutt. Just one thing: that wasn’t magic, because we would know, so how was it done?’
‘Well, initially, dwarfish alchemy, sir. You know, the kind that works? It is how they light the big chandeliers in the caverns under Bonk. I worked that out by tests and analysis. All the candle wicks are connected by a network of black cotton thread, which terminates in one single thread, which barely shows up in this Hall. You see, the thread is soaked in a formula which burns with extreme but brief ferocity when dry. My slightly altered solution burns considerably faster even than that, consuming the thread until it is nothing but gas. It is quite safe. Only the tips of the candle wicks are treated, you see, and they light as normal. You might be interested, sir, in the fact that the flame travels so fast as to be instantaneous by any human measure. Certainly faster than twenty miles a second, I calculate.’
Ridcully was good at looking blank. You couldn’t deal with Vetinari on a regular basis without being able to freeze your expression at will. But, right now, he didn’t have to try.
Nutt looked concerned. ‘Have I failed to achieve worth, sir?’
‘What? Ah. Well.’ Ridcully’s face thawed. ‘A wonderful effort, Nutt. Well done! Er, how did you get hold of the ingredients?’
‘Oh, there is an old alchemy room in the cellars.’
‘Hmm.
Well, thank you again,’ said Ridcully. ‘But as Master of this university I must ask you not to talk to anyone about this invention until we have spoken again on the matter. Now, I must get back to the events in hand.’
‘Don’t you worry, sir, I will see that it does not fall into the wrong hands,’ said Nutt, bustling off.
Except, of course, that you are the wrong hands, Ridcully thought, as he returned to the table.
‘An impressive display,’ said Vetinari, as Ridcully took his seat again. ‘Am I right in thinking, Mustrum, that the Mister Nutt you referred to is indeed, as it were, the Mister Nutt?’
‘That’s right, yes, quite a decent chap.’
‘And you’re letting him do alchemy?’
‘I think it was his own idea, sir.’
‘And he’s been standing here all this time?’
‘Very keen. Is there a problem, Havelock?’
‘No, no, not at all,’ said Vetinari.
It was indeed an impressive display, Glenda acknowledged, but while she watched it she could feel Mrs Whitlow’s gaze on her. In theory Glenda’s activities would merit another kind of firework display later on, but it wasn’t going to happen, was it? She had nailed the invisible hammer. But there were other, if less personal, matters on her mind.
Stupid, silly, and thoughtless though some of her neighbours were, it was up to her, as ever, to protect their interests. They had been dropped into a world they didn’t understand, so she had to understand it for them. She thought this because as she prowled between the tables she could make out a certain type of clink, clink noise, and, sure enough, the amount of silverware on the tables appeared to be diminishing. After watching carefully for a moment or two, she walked up behind Mr Stollop and without ceremony pulled three silver spoons and a silver fork out of his jacket pocket.
He spun around and then had the decency to look a bit embarrassed when he saw that it was her.
Glenda didn’t have to open her mouth.
‘They’ve got so many,’ he protested. ‘Who needs all those knives and forks?’
She reached into the man’s other pocket and pulled out three silver knives and a silver salt cellar.
‘Well, there’s such a lot,’ said Stollop. ‘I didn’t think they’d miss one or two.’
Glenda stared at him. The clinking of cutlery disappearing from the tables had been a small but noticeable part of the ambient noise for some time. She leaned down until her face was an inch away from his.
‘Mr Stollop. I wonder if that’s what Lord Vetinari is expecting you all to do.’ His face went white. She nodded. ‘Just a word to the wise,’ she said.
And words spread fast. As Glenda walked on she was gratified to hear behind her, spreading along the tables, more clinking as a tide of cutlery flowed swiftly out of pockets and back on to the tables. The tinkling flew up and down the tables like little fairy bells.
Glenda smiled to herself and hurried off to dare everything. Or at least everything that she dared.
Lord Vetinari stood up. For some inexplicable reason he needed no fanfare. No ‘Would you put your hands together for’, no ‘Lend me your ears’, no ‘Be upstanding for’. He simply stood up and the noise went down. ‘Gentlemen, thank you for coming, and may I thank you, Archchancellor Ridcully, for being such a generous host this evening. May I also take this opportunity to put your minds at rest.
‘You see, there appears to be a rumour going around that I am against the playing of football. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am completely in favour of the traditional game of football and, indeed, would be more than happy to see the game leave the fusty obscurity of the back streets. Moreover, while I know you have your own schedule of games, I personally propose a league, as it were, of senior teams, who will valiantly vie with one another for a golden cup—’
There were cheers, of a beery nature.
‘—or should I say gold-ish cup—’
More cheers and more laughter.
‘—based on the recently discovered ancient urn known as The Tackle, which, I am sure, you have all seen?’
General sniggering.
‘And if you haven’t, then your wives certainly have.’
Silence, followed by a tsunami of laughter which, like most tidal waves, had a lot of froth on the top.
Glenda, lurking among the serving girls, was taken aback and affronted at the same time, which was a bit of a squeeze, and wondered . . . So, he’s planning something. They’re lapping it up along with the beer, too.
‘Never seen that before,’ said a wine waiter beside her.
‘Seen what before?’
‘Seen his lordship drinking. He doesn’t even drink wine.’ Glenda looked at the skinny black figure and said, enunciating carefully, ‘When you say he does not drink wine, do you mean he does not drink wine, or he does not drink . . . wine ?’
‘He doesn’t have a bloody drink. That’s all I’m saying. That’s Lord Vetinari, that is. He’s got ears everywhere.’
‘I can only see two, but he’s quite handsome, in a way.’
‘Oh, yeah, the ladies like him,’ said the waiter and sniffed. ‘Everyone knows he’s got something going on with that vampire up in Uberwald. You know? The one who invented the Temperance League? Vampires who don’t suck blood? Hello, what’s this...?’
‘Let no one suppose that I am alone in a desire to see a better future for this great game,’ Vetinari was saying. ‘Tonight, gentlemen, you will see football, hear football and if you don’t duck, gentlemen, you might even eat football. Here to display a marriage of football from the past and I dare hope from the future, I present to you the first team of Unseen University . . . Unseen Academicals!’
The candles went out, all at once, even the ones high up in the chandelier; Glenda could see pale ghosts of smoke rising in the gloom. Beside her, Nutt started counting under his breath. One, two . . . At the count of three, the candles at the far end of the Hall burst into life again, revealing Trevor Likely, wearing his most infectious grin.
‘Evenin’ all,’ he said, ‘an’ to you too, your lordship. My, but ain’t you lookin’ quite the swell tonight.’ As breaths were indrawn all around the Hall Trev pulled out his tin can, dropped it on to his foot and flicked it up on to his shoulder, where it travelled around the back of his neck and down his other arm.
‘At the start people used to kick rocks. That was sort of stupid. Then they tried skulls, but you had to get ’em off people and that led to fightin’.’
Beside Glenda, Nutt was still counting . . .
‘An’ now we’ve got what we call a ball,’ Trev continued, as his tin can rolled and climbed around him, ‘but it ain’t all that, ’cos it’s a lump of firewood. You can’t kick it ’less you’ve got big heavy boots on. It’s slow. It’s heavy. It don’t live, gentlemen, and football should live . . .’
The doors at the other end of the Hall opened and Bengo Macarona trotted in, bouncing the new football. Its gloing, gloing echoed around the Hall. Some of the football captains had got to their feet, craning for a better view.
‘And with the old football, you couldn’t do this,’ said Trev, and dived for the floor as Macarona spun in one balletic movement and sent the ball screaming up the aisle like an angry hornet.
Some scenes are only ever a memory rather than an experience, because they happen too fast for immediate comprehension, and Glenda watched the subsequent events on the internal screen of horrified recollection. There were the two Archmages and the Tyrant of the city, watching with frozen interest as the spinning globe hummed towards them, dragging terrible consequences in its wake, and then there was the Librarian rising out of nowhere, stopping it dead in mid air with a hand like a shovel.
‘That’s us, gentlemen. And we’ll take on the first team that joins us on the Hippo on Saturday at one o’clock. We’ll be training all around the city. You can join in if you like. And don’t worry if you don’t have the balls! We’ll give you some!’ The candle flames went o
ut, which was just as well because it is hard to riot in the dark. When the flames rose again in their eerie way, shouting, arguments, laughter and even discussion were taking place on every table. Quietly, too, the servants went to and fro with their flagons. There always seemed to be another one, Glenda noticed.
‘What have they been drinking?’ she whispered to the nearest waiter.
‘Winkle’s Old Peculiar, Mages’ Special. It’s top stuff.’
‘What about his lordship?’
He grinned. ‘Ha. Funny thing, some of ’em have asked me that, too. Just the same as the guests. Poured out of the same flagon, just like for everyone else, so it’s—’ He stopped.
Lord Vetinari was on his feet again. ‘Gentlemen, who among you will accept the challenge? It need not be Dimwell, it need not be Dolly Sisters, it need not be the Nappers, it just has to be a team, gentlemen; the Unseen Academicals will take on the best of you, in the best traditions of sportsmanship. I have set the date of the game for Saturday. As far as the Academicals are concerned, you can watch them train and Mister Stibbons will give you all the advice you may need. This will be a fair match, gentlemen, you have my word on it.’ He paused. ‘Did I mention that when it is presented, the very nearly gold urn will be full of beer? The concept is quite popular, I gather, and I predict that for a reasonable period the golden cup will quite miraculously stay full of beer, no matter how many drink thereof. I shall personally see to it.’
This got a big cheer, too. Glenda felt embarrassed for the men, but angry at them too. They were being led by the nose. Or, more accurately, by the beer.
Vetinari didn’t need whips and thumbscrews; he just needed Winkle’s Old Peculiar, Mages’ Special, and he was leading them like little lambs – and matching them pint for pint. How could he manage that? Hey, look at me, he’s saying, I’m just like you, and he’s not like them at all. They can’t have someone killed – she paused the thought to allow consideration of some of the street fights when the pubs shut, and amended it to – and get away with it.