‘Seems to have a life of its own.’ Ponder dropped it on to the floor and tried a kick.

It flew.

Ponder Stibbons was the quintessential, all-time holder of the one-hundred-metre note from his auntie, which also asked for him to be excused all sporting activities on account of his athlete’s ear, erratic stigmatism, a grumbling nose and a revolving spleen. By his own admission, he would rather run ten miles, leap a five-bar gate and climb a big hill than engage in any athletic activity.

The ball sang to him. It sang gloing!

A few minutes later, he and Ridcully walked back to the Great Hall, occasionally bouncing the ball on the flagstones. There was something about the sound of gloing! that made you want to hear it again.

‘You know, Ponder, I think you’ve been doing it all wrong. There are more things in Heaven and Disc than are dreamed of in our philosophies.’

‘I expect so, sir. I don’t have many things in my philosophies.’

‘It’s all about the ball,’ said Ridcully, slamming it down hard on the flagstones again and catching it. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll bring it here and see what happens. You gave the ball a mighty kick, Mister Stibbons, and yet you are, by your own admission, a wet and a weed.’

‘Yes, sir, and a wuss, and I am proud of the appellation. I’d better remind you, Archchancellor, that the thing mustn’t spend too long outside the Cabinet.’

Gloing!

‘But we could make a copy, couldn’t we?’ said Ridcully. ‘It’s only leather stitched together, probably protecting a bladder of some sort. I bet any decent craftsman could make another one for us.’

‘What, now?’

‘The lights never go off on the Street of Cunning Artificers.’

By now, they were back in the Great Hall and Ridcully looked around until his gaze lighted on two figures pushing a trolley laden with candles. ‘You lads, to me!’ he shouted. They stopped pushing the trolley and walked over to him. ‘Mister Stibbons here would like you to run an errand for him. It’s of considerable importance. Who are you?’

‘Trevor Likely, guv.’

‘Nutt, Archchancellor.’

Ridcully’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes… Nutt,’ he said, and thought about the spells in his pocket. ‘The candle dribbler, yes? Well, you can make yourselves useful. Over to you, Mister Stibbons.’

Ponder Stibbons held out the ball. ‘Have you any idea what this is?’

Nutt took it out of his hands and bounced it on the tiles a couple of times.

Gloing! Gloing!

‘Yes. It appears to be a simple sphere, although technically I believe it to be, in actual fact, a truncated icosahedron, made by stitching together a number of pentagons and hexagons of tough leather, and stitching means holes and holes let the air leak… Ah, there is lacing just here, you see? There must be some internal bladder–animal, probably. A balloon, as it were, for lightness and elasticity, encapsulated by leather, simple and elegant.’ He handed the ball back to Ponder, who was open-mouthed.

‘Do you know everything, Mister Nutt?’ he said with the sarcasm of a born pedagogue.

Nutt’s reply was concentrated and there was a lengthy pause before he said, ‘I’m not sure about a lot of the detail, sir.’

Ponder heard a snigger behind him and felt himself redden. He’d been cheeked, by a dribbler, even if Nutt was the most incontinently erudite one he’d ever encountered.

‘Do you know where a copy of this may be made?’ said Ridcully loudly.

‘I expect so,’ said Nutt. ‘I believe dwarf rubber will be our friend here.’

‘There’s plenty of dwarfs up at Old Cobblers who could knock one up, guv,’ said Trev. ‘They’re good at this sort of thing, but they’d want paying, they always want paying. Nuffin’s on credit when you’re dealing with a dwarf.’

‘Give these young gentlemen twenty-five dollars, Mister Stibbons, will you?’

‘That’s a lot of money, Archchancellor.’

‘Yes, well, dwarfs, while the salt of the earth, don’t have much of a grasp of small numbers and I want this in a hurry. I’m sure I can trust Mister Likely and Mister Nutt with the money, can’t I?’ He said it jovially, but there was an edge to his voice. Trev, at least, got the message very quickly; a wizard could trust you because of the hellish future he could unleash on you if his trust was betrayed.

‘You can certainly trust us, guv.’

‘Yes, I thought I could,’ said Ridcully.

When they had gone, Ponder Stibbons said, ‘You’re entrusting them with twenty-five dollars?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Ridcully cheerfully. ‘It will be interesting to see the outcome.’

‘Nevertheless, sir, I have to say that it was an unwise move.’

‘Thank you for your input, Mister Stibbons, but may I gently remind you who is the guv around here?’

Glenda and Juliet took a trolley bus home, another huge extravagance but, of course, Glenda was carrying more money than she had ever seen at one go. She had stuffed the notes into her bodice, à la Madame, and it seemed to generate a heat of its own. You were safe on a troll. Anyone wanting to mug a troll would have to use a building on a stick.

Juliet was quiet. This puzzled Glenda; she had expected her to bubble like a fountain full of soap flakes. The silence was unnerving.

‘Look. I know it was a lot of fun,’ Glenda said, ‘but showing off clothes isn’t like a real job, is it?’ No. Real jobs pay a lot less, she thought.

Where had that come from? Jools hadn’t opened her mouth and the troll was still covered in mountain lichen and had a single-syllable vocabulary. It came from me, she thought. This is about dreams, isn’t it? She is a dream. I dare say the micromail is good stuff, but she made it sparkle. And what can I say? You help in the kitchen. You are useful and helpful, at least when you’re not daydreaming, but you don’t know how to keep accounts or plan a weekly menu. What would you do without me? How would you get on away from here, in foreign parts where folks are so odd?

‘I’ll have to open a bank account for you,’ she said aloud. ‘It’ll be our little secret, all right? It’ll be a nice little nest egg for you.’

‘And if Dad don’t know I’ve got the money he won’t get it off me and piss it against the wall,’ said Juliet, glancing up at the solemn, impassive face of the troll. If Glenda had known how to say ‘Pas devant le troll’ she would have done so. But it was true: Mr Stollop commanded that all family earnings were pooled, with him holding the pool, which was then pooled with his friends in the bar of the Turkey & Vegetables, and ultimately pooled again in the reeking alley behind it.

She settled for: ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’

Gloing! Gloing!

The new ball was magic, that’s what it was. It bounced back to Trev’s waiting hand as if by its own free will. For two pins he’d risk kicking it, but he and Nutt and the ball were already picking up a trail of curious street urchins such that he would be guaranteed never to see it again.

‘Are you really sure you know ’ow it works?’ he said to Nutt.

‘Oh, yes, Mister Trev. It’s a lot simpler than it looks, although the polyhedrons will need some work, but overall—’

A hand landed on Trev’s shoulder. ‘Well, now. Trev Likely,’ said Andy. ‘And his little pet, harder to kill than a cockroach, by all accounts. Something’s going on, ain’t it, Trev? And you’re going to tell me what it is. Here, what’s that you’re holding?’

‘Not today, Andy,’ said Trev, backing away. ‘You’re lucky you didn’t end up in the Tanty with Mister One Drop measurin’ you up for a hemp collar.’

‘Me?’ said Andy innocently. ‘I didn’t do a thing! Can’t blame me for what a thicko Stollop does, but something is going on with the football, ain’t it? Vetinari wants to muck it about.’

‘Just leave it alone, will you?’ said Trev.

There was more than the usual gang behind Andy. The Stollop brothers had sensibly spared the streets their presence lately, but people like Andy could always find followers. Like they said, it was better to be beside Andy than in front of him. And with Andy you never knew just when he was—