‘Yes, Archchancellor. I’m looking to see if we could manage without the bequest.’

‘Good man,’ said the Senior Wrangler, glaring at Ridcully. ‘I knew there was no reason to panic.’

‘In fact I’m pleased to say that I think we could rub along quite well with only a minimal cut in expenditure,’ Ponder went on.

‘There,’ said the Senior Wrangler, looking triumphantly at the first among equals, ‘you see what happens if you don’t simply panic.’

‘Indeed,’ said Ridcully calmly. With his gaze still fixed on the Senior Wrangler he added, ‘Mister Stibbons, would you be so kind as to enlighten the rest of us: to what, in reality, does a “minimal cut in expenditure” equate?’

‘The bequest is a trust,’ said Ponder, still scribbling. ‘We have the use of the significant income from the very wise investments of the Bigger trustees, but we cannot touch the capital. Nevertheless, the income is enough to cover-I’m sorry to be imprecise-about eighty-seven point four per cent of the university’s food bill.’

He waited patiently until the uproar had died away. It was amazing, he thought, how people would argue against figures on no better basis than ‘they must be wrong’.

‘I’m sure the Bursar would not agree with those figures,’ said the Senior Wrangler sourly.

‘That is so,’ said Ponder, ‘but I’m afraid that is because he regards the decimal point as a nuisance.’

The faculty looked at one another.

‘Then who is dealing with our financial affairs?’ said Ridcully.

‘Since last month? Me,’ said Ponder, ‘but I would be happy to hand the responsibility over to the first volunteer.’

This worked. Regrettably, it always did. ‘In that case,’ he said, in the sudden silence, ‘I have worked out, with reference to calorific tables, a regime that will give every man here a nourishing three meals a day—’

The Senior Wrangler frowned. ‘Three meals? Three meals? What kind of person has three meals a day?’

‘Someone who can’t afford nine,’ said Ponder flatly. ‘We could eke out the money if we concentrate on a healthy diet of grains and fresh vegetables. That would allow us to keep the cheeseboard with a choice of, say, three types of cheese.’

‘Three cheeses isn’t a choice, it’s a penance!’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

‘Or we could play a game of football, gentlemen,’ said Ridcully, clapping his hands together cheerfully. ‘One game. That’s all. How hard would that be?’

‘As hard as a face full of hobnails, perhaps?’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. ‘People get trodden into the cobbles!’

‘If all else fails, we will find volunteers from the student body,’ said Ridcully.

‘Corpse might be a better word.’

The Archchancellor leaned back in his chair. ‘What makes a wizard, gentlemen? A facility with magic? Yes, of course, but around this table we know this is not, for the right kind of mind, hard to obtain. It does not, as it were, happen like magic. Good heavens, witches manage it. But what makes a magic user is a certain cast of mind which looks a little deeper into the world and the way it works, the way its currents twist the fortunes of mankind, et cetera, et cetera. In short, they should be the kind of person who might calculate that a guaranteed double first is worth the occasional inconvenience of sliding down the street on their teeth.’

‘Are you seriously suggesting that we give out degrees for mere physical prowess?’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies.

‘No, of course not. I am seriously suggesting that we give out degrees for extreme physical prowess. May I remind you that I rowed for this university for five years and got a Brown?’

‘And what good did that do, pray?’

‘Well, it does say “Archchancellor” on my door. Do you remember why? The University Council at the time took the very decent view that it might be the moment for a leader who was not stupid, mad or dead. Admittedly, most of these are not exactly qualifications in the normal sense, but I like to think that the skill of leadership, tactics and creative cheating that I learned on the river also stood me in good stead. And thus for my sins, which I don’t actually remember committing but must have been quite crimson, I was at the top of a shortlist of one. Was that a choice of three cheeses, Mister Stibbons?’

‘Yes, Archchancellor.’

‘I was just checking.’ Ridcully leaned forward. ‘Gentlemen, in the morning, correction, later this morning, I propose to tell Vetinari firmly that this university intends to once again play football. And the task falls to me because I am the first among equals. If any of you would like to try your luck in the Oblong Office, you have only to say.’

‘He’ll suspect something, you know,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies.

‘He suspects everything. That is why he is still Patrician.’ Ridcully stood up. ‘I declare this meet—this overly extended snack… over. Mister Stibbons, come with me!’

Ponder hurried after him, books clutched to his chest, happy for the excuse to get out of there before they turned on him. The bringer of bad news is never popular, especially when it’s on an empty plate.

‘Archchancellor, I—’ he began, but Ridcully held his finger to his lips.

After a moment of cloying silence, there was a sudden festival of scuffling, as of men fighting in silence.

‘Good for them,’ Ridcully said, heading off down the corridor. ‘I wondered how long it would take them to realize that they might be seeing the last overloaded snack trolley for some time. I’m almost tempted to wait and see them waddle out with their robes sagging.’

Ponder stared at him. ‘Are you enjoying this, Archchancellor?’

‘Good heavens no,’ said Ridcully, his eyes sparkling. ‘How could you suggest such a thing? Besides, in a few hours I have to tell Havelock Vetinari that we are intending to become a personal affront. The unschooled mob hacking at one another’s legs is one thing. I don’t believe he will be happy with the prospect of our joining in.’

‘Of course, sir. Er, there is a minor matter, sir, a small conundrum, if you will… Who is Nutt?’

There seemed to Ponder to be a rather longer pause than necessary before Ridcully said, ‘Nutt would be… ?’

‘He works in the candle vats, sir.’

‘How do you know that, Stibbons?’

‘I do the wages, sir. The Candle Knave says Nutt just turned up one night with a chitty saying he was to be employed and paid minimal wage.’

‘Well?’

‘That’s all I know, sir, and I only found that out because I asked Smeems. Smeems says he’s a good lad but sort of odd.’

‘Then he should fit right in, don’t you think, Stibbons? In fact, we are seeing how he fits in.’

‘Well yes, sir, no problem there, but he’s a goblin, apparently, and generally, you know, it’s a sort of odd tradition, but when the first people from other races first come to the city they start out in the Watch… ’

Ridcully cleared his throat, loudly. ‘The trouble with the Watch, Stibbons, is that they ask too many questions. We should not emulate them, I suggest.’ He looked at Ponder and appeared to reach a decision. ‘You know that you have a glowing future here at UU, Stibbons.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Ponder gloomily.

‘I would advise you, with this in mind, to forget all about Mister Nutt.’

‘Excuse me, Archchancellor, but that simply will not do!’

Ridcully swayed backwards, like a man subjected to an attack by a hitherto comatose sheep.

Ponder plunged on, because when you have dived off a cliff your only hope is to press for the abolition of gravity.

‘I have twelve jobs in this university,’ he said. ‘I do all the paperwork. I do all the adding up. In fact, I do everything that requires even a modicum of effort and responsibility! And I go on doing it even though Brazeneck have offered me the post of Bursar! With a staff! I mean real people, not a stick with a knob on the end. Now… Will… You… Trust… Me? What is it about Nutt that is so important?’