‘But how can that possibly work?’ said Glenda. ‘What happens when he gives you an instruction that he doesn’t want you to disobey?’
‘It works by common sense and good will on all sides,’ said Hix. ‘If, for example, the Archchancellor gives me a command that absolutely must not be disobeyed, he will add something like, “Hix, you little worm (by university statute), if you disobey this one, I’ll smack your head.” Though in reality, a word to the wise, madam, is sufficient. It’s all done on the basis of trust, really. I am trusted to be untrustworthy. I don’t know what the Archchancellor would do without me.’ ‘Yeah, right,’ said Charlie, grinning.
A few minutes later, Glenda was in another dark room, standing in front of a round, dark mirror, at least as high as she was. ‘Is this going to be like the Moving Pictures?’ she said sarcastically.
‘An amusing comparison,’ said Hix. ‘Except for, one, there is no popcorn and, two, you would not want to eat it if there was. What might be called the camera in this case was the last thing one of the human fighters saw.’
‘Is this the person whose skull you’ve got?’
‘Well done! I see you have been following things,’ said Hix.
There was a moment of silence. ‘This is going to be scary, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Hix. ‘Nightmares? Very probably. Even I think it’s extremely disconcerting. Are you ready, Charlie?’
‘Ready,’ said Charlie, from somewhere in the darkness. ‘Are you sure, miss?’
Glenda wasn’t sure, but anything would be better than facing Hix’s know-it-all smile. ‘Yes,’ she said, keeping her voice firm.
‘The fragment we are able to show lasts less than three seconds, but I doubt whether you will want to see it again. Are we ready? Thank you, Charlie.’
Glenda’s chair went backwards very quickly and Hix, who had been hovering, caught her. ‘The only known representation of an orc in battle,’ said Hix, standing her upright. ‘Well done, by the way. Even the Archchancellor swore out loud.’
Glenda blinked, trying to slice slightly less than three seconds out of her memory. ‘And that’s true, is it?’ But it had to be true. There was something about the way the image was sticking to the back of her brain that declared the truth of it.
‘I want to see it again.’
‘You what?!’ said Hix.
‘There’s more to it,’ said Glenda. ‘It’s only a part of a picture.’
‘It took us hours to work that out,’ said Hix severely. ‘How did you spot it the very first go?’
‘Because I knew it had to be there,’ said Glenda.
‘She’s got you there, boss,’ said Charlie.
‘All right. Show it again and this time magnify the right-hand corner. It’s very blurry,’ he said to Glenda.
‘Can you stop it?’ said Glenda.
‘Oh, yes. Charlie has worked that one out.’
‘Then you know the bit I mean.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Then show me it again.’
Charlie disappeared behind his curtain. There were a few flashes of light and then . . .
‘There!’ She pointed at the frozen image. ‘That’s men on horseback, isn’t it? And they’ve got whips. I know it’s blurry, but you can tell that they’ve got whips.’
‘Well, yes, of course,’ said Hix. ‘It’s quite hard to get anything to run into a hail of arrows unless you give it some encouragement.’
‘They were weapons. Living creatures as weapons. And they don’t look so different from humans.’
‘A lot of really interesting stuff happened under the Evil Emperor,’ said Hix, conversationally.
‘Evil stuff,’ said Glenda.
‘Yes,’ said Hix, ‘that was rather the point. Evil Emperor. Evil Empire. It did what it said on the iron maiden.’
‘And what happened to them?’
‘Well, officially they’re all dead,’ said Hix. ‘But there have been rumours.’
‘And men drove them into battle,’ said Glenda.
‘If you want to put it like that, I suppose so,’ said Hix, ‘but I’m not certain that changes anything.’
‘I think it changes everything,’ said Glenda. ‘It does if all that people talk about are the monsters and not the whips. Things that look very much like people, well, a kind of people. What can you make from people if you really try?’
‘It’s an interesting theory,’ said Hix. ‘But I don’t think you can prove it.’
‘When Kings fight other Kings and win, they chop off the other King’s head, don’t they?’ said Glenda.
‘Sometimes,’ said Hix.
‘I mean, you can’t blame a weapon for how it’s used. What’s it they say? People can’t help how they were made. I think the orcs were made.’
Glenda glanced at the Librarian, who looked at the ceiling.
‘You work as a cook, don’t you? Would you like to work for my department?’
‘Everyone knows women can’t be wizards,’ said Glenda.
‘Ah, yes, but Necro— Post-Mortem Communications is different,’ said Hix proudly. And added, ‘We could do with some sensible people here, heavens know. And the feminine touch would be very welcome. And don’t think I would require you to just come and do the dusting. We treasure our dust in this place and your cookery skills will be invaluable. After all, basic butchery is all part of the job. And I do believe that Boffo’s shop has a rather good female Necromancer’s costume in their sale, isn’t that right, Charlie?’
‘Ten dollars including lace-up bodice. A bargain in anybody’s money,’ said Charlie from behind his curtain. ‘Very slinky.’
There had been no reply because Glenda’s mouth had stuck in the act of opening, but she finally managed a polite, but firm, ‘No.’
The head of the Department of Post-Mortem Communications gave a little sigh. ‘I thought as much, but we are part of the scheme of things. Light and dark. Night and day. Sweet and sour. Good and evil (within acceptable college statutes). It just helps if you can have sensible and reliable people on both sides, but I’m glad that we’ve been able to be of assistance. We don’t see many people down here. Well, not people as such.’
This time Glenda walked along the corridor. ‘Orc,’ she thought. ‘A thing that just kills.’ Every time she blinked, the image came back to her. The teeth and claws of a creature in full leap seen, as far as one could tell, by whoever it was it was leaping at. Fighters you couldn’t stop. And Nutt had been killed, according to Trev, and then sort of became unkilled again before going back to Unseen University and eating all the pies.
There was an awfully big gap in all this, but men with whips filled it. You can’t have something that just fights, she thought. It has to do other things as well. And Nutt isn’t any stranger than most of the people you see around these days. It’s not a lot to go on, though, but then again, the Evil Emperor was a sorcerer, everyone knew that. Everyone knows you can’t help how you’re made. Well, it’s worth a try. It’s a little bit of uncertainty.
As soon as she arrived back outside Nutt’s special place, she sensed that it would be empty. She pushed the door open and there was a definite absence of candles and, more importantly, a very noticeable absence of Nutt. But I told him to go and help them train. That’s where he’s gone, to go and train, definitely, she said to herself. So no need to worry, then.
On edge, feeling that something was nevertheless wrong, she forced herself back to the Night Kitchen.
She was nearly there when she met Mr Ottomy, his scrawny Adam’s apple as red and glistening as chicken giblets.
‘So, we’ve got a man-eating orc down here, have we?’ he said. ‘People aren’t going to stand for that. I heard somewhere that they could go on fighting while their heads are chopped off.’
‘That’s interesting,’ said Glenda. ‘How did they know which way to go?’
‘Ah-ah! They could smell their way,’ said the bledlow.
‘How could they do that w
ith their heads chopped off? Are you telling me they had a nose up their arse?’ She was shocked at herself for saying that, it was bad language, but Ottomy was bad language made solid.
‘I don’t hold with it,’ he said, ignoring the question. ‘You know something else I heard? They were kind of made. When the Evil Emperor wanted fighters he got some of the Igors to turn goblins into orcs. They’re not really proper people at all. I’m going to complain to the Archchancellor.’
‘He already knows,’ said Glenda. Well, he must do, she thought. And Vetinari, too, she added to herself. ‘You’re not going to make trouble for Mister Nutt, are you?’ she said. ‘Because if you are, Mister Ottomy’ – she leaned forward – ‘you will never be seen again.’
‘You shouldn’t threaten me like that,’ he said.
‘You’re right, I shouldn’t,’ said Glenda. ‘I should have said that you will never be seen again, you egregious slimy little twerp. Go and tell the Archchancellor if you like and see how much good that does you.’ ‘They ate people alive!’ said Ottomy.
‘So did trolls,’ said Glenda. ‘Admittedly they spat them out again, but not in much of a state to enjoy life. We used to fight dwarfs once and when they cut you off at the knees they weren’t joking. We know, Mister Ottomy, that the leopard can change his shorts,’ she sniffed, ‘and it might be a good idea if you did, too. And if I hear of any trouble from you, you will hear from me. Up there it’s the Archchancellor. Down here in the dark, it’s cutlery.’
‘I’ll tell him what you said,’ said the luckless bledlow, backing away.
‘I would be very grateful if you did,’ said Glenda. ‘Now push off.’
Why do we tell one another that the leopard cannot change his shorts? she mused as she watched him scurry away. Has anyone ever seen a leopard wearing shorts? And how would they be able to put them on if they had them? But we go on saying it as if it was some kind of holy truth, when it just means that we’ve run out of an argument.
***
There was something she had to do, now what was it? Oh, yes. She went over once again to the cauldron on which she had chalked ‘Do Not Touch’ and lifted up the lid. The beady eyes stared up at her from the watery depths and she went away and got a few scraps of fish, which she dropped towards the waiting claws. ‘Well, I know what to do with you, at least,’ she said.
A fully working kitchen holds a great many things, not least of which is a huge collection of ways of committing horrible murder, plus multiple ways of getting rid of the evidence. This wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed her mind. She was quite glad about it. For now, she selected a really thick pair of gloves from a drawer, put her old coat on again, reached into the cauldron and picked up the crab. It snapped at her. She knew it would. Never, ever expect gratitude from those you help.
‘Tide’s turning,’ she told the crustacean, ‘so we’re going to take a little walk.’ She dropped it into her shopping bag and headed across the university lawns.
A couple of graduate wizards were working in the university boatyard nearby. One looked at her and said, ‘Are you supposed to be walking on the university lawns, madam?’
‘No, it is absolutely forbidden to kitchen staff,’ said Glenda.
The students looked at one another. ‘Oh, right,’ said one of them.
And that was it.
As easy as that.
It was only a metaphorical hammer. It only hit you if you allowed it to be there.
She pulled the crab out of her bag and it waved its claws irritably. ‘See that over there?’ she said, waving her own spare hand. ‘That’s Hen and Chickens Field.’ It’s doubtful whether the crab’s beady eyes could focus on the grassy waste across the river, but at least she pointed it in the right direction. ‘People think it’s because there was chickens kept there,’ she went on conversationally while the two wizards looked at one another. ‘As a matter of fact, that’s not so. It used to be where people were hanged, and so when they walked out from the old gaol that used to be over there, the priest in front of the procession with his billowing robes seemed to lead the line of doomed men and gaolers like a hen leading its chicks. That sort of thing is what we call a droll sense of humour in these parts and I haven’t got the faintest idea why I’m talking to you. I’ve done my best. You now know more than any other crab.’
She walked down to the very edge of what passed for water as the river flowed through the city, and dropped the crab into it. ‘Stay clear of crab pots and don’t come back.’ She turned round and realized the wizards had been watching her. ‘Well?’ she snapped. ‘Is there any law about talking to crabs around here?’ She then gave them a little smile as she walked past.
Back in the long corridors she wandered, feeling a little light-headed, towards the vats. Some of its denizens eyed her nervously as she passed through, but there was no sign of Nutt, not that she was looking for him at all. As she walked on towards the Night Kitchen, Trev and Juliet appeared. Glenda couldn’t help but notice that Juliet had a somewhat bright-eyed and ruffled look. That is, she couldn’t help but notice because she made a point of noticing every time. Semi-parental responsibility was a terrible thing.
‘What are you still doing here?’ she said.
They looked at her and there was more in their expressions than mere embarrassment.
‘I come back to say goodbye to the girls and I ’ad to wait for Trev because of the training.’
Glenda sat down. ‘Make me a cup of tea, will you?’ And because old habits died hard she added, ‘Boil water in the kettle, two spoons of tea in the pot. Pour water from kettle into pot when it boils. Do not put tea in kettle.’ She turned to Trev. ‘Where’s Mister Nutt?’ she said, non-chalance booming in her voice.
Trev looked down at his feet. ‘I don’t know, Glenda,’ he said. ‘I’ve been—’
‘Busy,’ Glenda completed.
‘But no hanky panky,’ said Juliet quickly.
Glenda realized that right now she would not have minded if there had been hanky panky or even spanky. There were things that were important and things that weren’t, and times when you knew the difference.
‘So, how did Mister Nutt get on, then?’
Trev and Juliet looked at one another. ‘We don’t know. He wasn’t there,’ said Trev.
‘We kind of thought ’e might be with you,’ said Juliet, handing her a cup of what you get when you ask for a cup of tea from someone who tends to confuse the recipe even at the best of times.
‘He wasn’t in the Great Hall?’ said Glenda.
‘No, ’e wasn’t there— Wait one moment.’ Trev ran down the steps and after a few seconds they heard his footsteps coming back. ‘His toolbox ’as gone,’ said Trev. ‘I mean, it wasn’t much. He made it outta bits he found in the cellars, but as far as I know it’s all ’e owned.’
I knew it, thought Glenda. Of course I knew it. ‘Where could he be? He’s got nowhere else to go but here,’ she said.
‘Well, there is that place up in Uberwald he talks about quite a lot,’ said Trev.
‘That’s getting on for about a thousand miles away,’ said Glenda.
‘Well, I suppose he thinks he might as well be there as here,’ said Juliet innocently. ‘I mean, Orc, I’d want to run away from a name like that if I was me.’
‘Look, I’m sure he’s just wandered off somewhere in the building,’ Glenda said, believing absolutely that he hadn’t. But if I believe he’s going to be around the next corner or has just nipped off to . . . powder his nose, or has just wandered away for half an hour – which, of course, is his right; perhaps he needs to go and buy a pair of socks? – if I keep believing he’ll turn up any minute, he might, even though I know he won’t.
She put down the cup. ‘Half an hour,’ she said. ‘Juliet, you go and check around the Great Hall. Trev, you go down the tunnels that way. I’ll go down the tunnels this way. If you find anyone you can trust, ask ’em.’
A little more than half an hour later, Glenda was
the last to turn up back in the Night Kitchen. She very nearly half expected that he would be there and knew that he wouldn’t. ‘Would he know about getting on a coach?’ she said.
‘I doubt ’e’s ever seen one,’ said Trev. ‘You know what I would do if I was ’im? I’d just run. It was like when Dad died, I spent all night walkin’ around the city. I wasn’t bothered where I went. Just went. Wanted to run away from bein’ me.’
‘How fast can an orc run?’ said Glenda.
‘Much faster than a man, I bet,’ said Trev. ‘An’ for a long time, too.’
‘Listen.’ This was Juliet. ‘Can’t you ’ear it?’
‘Hear what?’ said Glenda.
‘Nothing,’ said Juliet.
‘Well?’
‘What happened to Awk! Awk!?’
‘I think we’ll find them where we find him,’ said Trev.
‘Well, he can’t run all the way back to Uberwald,’ said Glenda. ‘You couldn’t.’
At last Glenda said it: ‘I think we should go after him.’
‘I’ll come,’ said Trev.
‘Then I’m goin’ to come, too,’ insisted Juliet. ‘Besides, I’ve still got the money and you’re goin’ to need it.’
‘Your money’s in the bank,’ said Glenda, ‘and the bank is shut. But I think I’ve got a few dollars in my purse.’
‘Then, excuse me,’ said Trev, ‘I won’t be a moment. I think there’s somethin’ we ought to take . . .’
***
The driver of the horse bus to Sto Lat looked down and said, ‘Two dollars fifty pence each.’
‘But you only go to Sto Lat,’ said Glenda.
‘Yes,’ said the man calmly. ‘That’s why it says Sto Lat on the front.’
‘We might ’ave to go a lot further,’ said Trev.
‘Just about every coach in this part of the world goes through Sto Lat,’ he said.
‘How long will it take to get there?’
‘Well, this is the late-night bus, okay? It’s for people who’ve got to be in Sto Lat early and haven’t got much money, and there’s the rub, see? The less the money, the slower the travel. We get there in the end. Somewhere around about dawn, in fact.’