Terry Pratchett - Unseen Academicals

‘You had three men hanged last week,’ said Ridcully, without quite understanding why.

‘They had their chances. They used them to kill, and worse. All we get is a chance. We don’t get a benison. He was chained to an anvil for seven years. He should get his chance, don’t you think?’

Suddenly Vetinari was smiling again.

‘Let us not get sombre, however. I look forward to your ushering in a new era of lively, healthy activity in the best sporting tradition. Indeed, tradition will be your friend here, I am sure. Please don’t let me trespass any further on your time.’

Ridcully drained the sherry. That at least was palatable.

It’s a short walk from the palace to Unseen University; positions of power like to keep an eye on one another.

Ridcully walked back through the crowds, occasionally nodding at people he knew, which, in this part of the city, was practically everyone.

Trolls, he thought, we get along with trolls, now that they remember to look where they’re putting their feet. Got ’em in the Watch and everything. Jolly decent types, bar a few bad apples, and gods know we have enough of those of our own. Dwarfs? Been here for ages. Can be a bit tricky, can be as tight as a duck’s arse–here he paused to think and edited that thought to ‘drive a hard bargain’. You always know where you are with them, anyway, and of course they are short, which is always a comfort provided you know what they are doing down there. Vampires? Well, the Uberwald League of Temperance seemed to be working. Word on the street–or in the vault or whatever–was that they policed their own. Any unreformed bloodsucker who tried to make a killing in the city would be hunted down by people who knew exactly how they thought and where they hung out.

Lady Margolotta was behind all that. She was the person who, by diplomacy, and probably more direct means, had got things moving again in Uberwald, and she had some sort of… relationship with Vetinari. Everyone knew it, and that was all everyone knew. A dot dot dot relationship. One of those. And nobody had been able to join up the dots.

She had been to the city on diplomatic visits, and not even the well-practised dowagers of Ankh-Morpork had been able to detect a whisper of anything other than a businesslike amiability and international cooperation between the two of them.

And he played endless and complex games with her, via the clacks system, and apart from that, that was, well, that… until now.

And she’d sent him this Nutt to keep safe. Who knew why, apart from them? Politics, probably.

Ridcully sighed. One of the monsters, all alone. It was hard to think of it. They came in thousands, like lice, killing everything and eating the dead, including theirs. The Evil Empire had bred them in huge cellars, grey demons without a hell.

The gods alone knew what had happened to them when the Empire collapsed. But there was convincing evidence now that some still lived up in the far hills. What might they do? And one, right now, was making candles in Ridcully’s cellars. What might he become?

‘A bloody nuisance?’ said Ridcully aloud.

‘’ere, ’oo are you calling a nuisance, mister? It’s my road, same as yours!’

The wizard looked down at a young man who appeared to have stolen his clothes only from the best washing lines, though the tattered black and red scarf around his neck was probably his own. There was an edginess to him, a continual shifting of weight, as though he might at any moment run off in a previously unguessable direction. And he was throwing a tin can up in the air and catching it again. For Ridcully it brought back memories so sharp that they stung, but he pulled himself together.

‘I am Mustrum Ridcully, Archchancellor and Master of Unseen University, young man, and I see you are sporting colours. For some game? A game of football, I suggest?’

‘As it happens, yes. So what?’ said the urchin, then realized that his hand was empty when it should now, under normal gravitational rules, be full again. The tin had not fallen back from its last ascent, and was in fact turning gently twenty feet up in the air.

‘Childish of me, I know,’ said Ridcully, ‘but I did want your full attention. I want to witness a game of football.’

‘Witness? Look, I never saw nuffin’—’

Ridcully sighed. ‘I mean I want to watch a game, okay? Today, if possible.’

‘You? Are you sure? It’s your funeral, mister. Got a shilling?’

There was a clink, high above.

‘The tin will come back down with a sixpence in it. Time and place, please.’

‘’ow do I know I can trust you?’ said the urchin.

‘I don’t know,’ said Ridcully. ‘The subtle workings of the brain are a mystery to me, too. But I’m glad that is your belief.’

‘What?’ With a shrug, the boy decided to gamble, what with having had no breakfast.

‘Loop Alley off the Scours, ’arp arsed one, an’ I’ve never seen you before in my life, got it?’

‘That is quite probable,’ said Ridcully, and snapped his fingers.

The tin dropped into the urchin’s waiting hand. He shook out the silver coin and grinned. ‘Best o’ luck to you, guv.’

‘Is there anything to eat at these affairs?’ said Ridcully, for whom lunchtime was a sacrament.

‘There’s pies, guv, pease pudding, jellied eel pies, pie and mash, lobster… pies, but mostly they are just pies. Just pies, sir. Made of pie.’

‘What kind?’

His informant looked shocked. ‘They’re pies, guv. You don’t ask.’

Ridcully nodded. ‘And as a final transaction, I’ll pay you one penny for a kick of your can.’

‘Tuppence,’ said the boy promptly.

‘You little scamp, we have a deal.’

Ridcully dropped the can on the toe of his boot, balanced it for a moment, then flicked it into the air and, as it came down, hit it with a roundhouse kick that sent it spinning over the crowd.

‘Not bad, granddad,’ said the kid, grinning. In the distance there was a yell and the sound of someone bent on retribution.

Ridcully plunged a hand into his pocket and looked down. ‘Two dollars to start running, kid. You won’t get a better deal today!’ The boy laughed, grabbed the coins and ran. Ridcully walked on sedately, while the years fell back on him like snow.

He found Ponder Stibbons pinning up a notice on the board just outside the Great Hall. He did this quite a lot. Ridcully assumed it made him feel better in some way.

He slapped Ponder on the back, causing him to spill drawing pins all over the flagstones.

‘It is a bulletin from the Ankh Committee on Safety, Archchancellor,’ said Ponder, scrabbling for the spinning, wayward pins.

‘This is a university of magic, Stibbons. We have no business with safety. Just being a wizard is unsafe, and so it should be.’

‘Yes, Archchancellor.’

‘But I should pick up all those pins if I were you, you can’t be too careful. Tell me-didn’t we use to have a sports master here?’

‘Yes, sir. Evans the Striped. He vanished about forty years ago, I believe.’

‘Killed? It was dead men’s shoes in those days, you know.’

‘I can’t imagine who would want his job. Apparently he evaporated while doing press-ups in the Great Hall one day.’

‘Evaporated? What kind of death is that for a wizard? Any wizard would die of shame if he just evaporated. We always leave something behind, even if it’s only smoke. Oh, well. Cometh the hour, cometh the… whatever. General comethness, perhaps. What is that thinking engine of yours doing these days?’

Ponder brightened. ‘As a matter of fact, Archchancellor, Hex has just discovered a new particle. It travels faster than light in two directions at once!’

‘Can we make it do anything interesting?’