‘May I also, sir, request a very small budget?’

‘Why?’

‘With all due respect to the exigencies of university finances,’ said Nutt, ‘I believe it is very necessary.’

‘Why?’

‘I wish to take the team to the ballet.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ Ponder snapped.

‘No, sir, it’s essential.’

The next day there was a piece in the Times about the mysterious disappearance of the fabulous ‘Jewels’, which made Glenda smile. They just haven’t read their fairy stories, she thought as she left the house. If you want to find a beauty, you look for her in the ashes. Because Glenda was Glenda and would always irredeemably be Glenda to the core, she added: although the ovens in the Night Kitchen are scrupulously maintained at all times and all ashes are immediately disposed of.

To her surprise, Juliet stepped out of her doorway at almost the same time and looked as if she was almost awake. ‘Do you think they’ll let me in on the banquet?’ she said as they waited for the bus.

Theoretically yes, Glenda thought, but probably no, because she was a Night Kitchen girl. Even though she was Juliet, she would be tarred by Mrs Whitlow as a Night Kitchen girl. ‘Juliet, you shall go to the banquet,’ she said aloud, ‘and so shall I.’

‘But I think Mrs Whitlow won’t like that,’ said Juliet.

Something was still bubbling inside Glenda. It had started in Shatta and lasted all day yesterday and there was still some left today. ‘I don’t care,’ she said.

Juliet giggled and looked around in case Mrs Whitlow was hiding near the bus stop.

And I really don’t care, Glenda thought. I don’t care. It was like drawing a sword.

Ponder’s office always puzzled Mustrum Ridcully. The man used filing cabinets for heavens’ sake. Ridcully worked on the basis that anything you couldn’t remember wasn’t important and had developed the floor-heap method of document storage to a fine art.

Ponder looked up. ‘Ah, good morning, Archchancellor.’

‘Just had a look in at the Hall,’ said Ridcully.

‘Yes, Archchancellor?’

‘Our lads were all doing ballet.’

‘Yes, Archchancellor.’

‘And there were some girls from the Opera House with those short dresses.’

‘Yes, Archchancellor. They’re helping the team.’

Ridcully leaned over and put huge knuckles either side of the paper Ponder was working on. ‘Why?’

‘Mister Nutt’s idea, Archchancellor. Apparently they must learn balance, poise and elegance.’

‘Have you ever seen Bledlow Nobbs try to stand on one leg? Let me tell you, it’s an immediate cure for melancholy.’

‘I can imagine,’ said Ponder, not looking up.

‘I thought the idea was to learn how to kick the ball into the goal.’

‘Ah, yes, but Mister Nutt has a philosophy.’

‘Does he?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘They’re runnin’ about all over the place, I know that,’ said Ridcully.

‘Yes, Mister Nutt and Mister Likely are preparing a little something extra for the banquet,’ said Ponder, getting up and opening the top drawer of a filing cabinet. The sight of filing cabinets opening tended to remind Ridcully that he should be elsewhere, but on this occasion the ruse failed to work.

‘Oh, and I believe we have some fresh balls.’

‘Mister Snorrisson knows an opportunity when he sees one.’

‘So it’s all going well, then?’ said Ridcully, in a kind of mystified voice.

‘Apparently so, sir.’

‘Well, I suppose I’d better leave it alone,’ said Ridcully. He hesitated, feeling at a bit of a loose end, and found another thread to pull. ‘And how are those rules coming along, Mister Stibbons?’

‘Oh, quite well, thank you, Archchancellor. I’m keeping in some of the ones from the street game, of course, to keep everybody happy. Some of them are quite strange.’

‘Mister Nutt is quite a decent chap, it appears.’

‘Oh yes, Archchancellor.’

‘Very good idea of his to redesign the goal, I thought. Makes it more fun.’

‘Aren’t you going to train, sir?’ said Ponder, pulling another document towards him.

‘I am the captain! I do not need to train.’ Ridcully turned to leave and stopped with his hand on the doorknob. ‘Had a long chat with the former Dean last night. Decent soul at heart, of course,’ he said.

‘Yes, I understand the atmosphere in the Uncommon Room was very convivial, Archchancellor,’ said Ponder. And expensive, he added to himself.

‘You know young Adrian Turnipseed is a professor?’

‘Oh, yes, Archchancellor.’

‘You wanna be one?’

‘Not really, Archchancellor. I think there should be one or two posts in this institution that I don’t hold.’

‘Yes, but they’ve just called their machine Pex! Hardly a great leap of ingenuity, is it?’

‘Oh, there are some significant differences. I believe he’s using chickens to generate the blit diametric,’ said Ponder.

‘Apparently so,’ said Ridcully. ‘Something like that, anyway.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Ponder. And it was quite a solid hmmm, possibly one you could moor a small boat to.

‘Something wrong?’ said Ridcully.

‘Oh, er, not really, Archchancellor. Did the former Dean mention anything about the need to totally rebuild the morphic resonator to allow for the necessary changes in the blit/slood interface?’

‘Shouldn’t think so,’ said Ridcully.

‘Oh,’ said Ponder, his face blank. ‘Well, Adrian is bound to get round to that. He is very clever.’

‘Yes, but it was all based on your work. You built Hex. And now they’re putting out that he’s some big clever clogs. He’s even on a cigarette card.’

‘That’s nice, sir. It’s good when researchers get recognition.’

Ridcully felt like a mosquito that was trying to sting a steel breastplate. ‘Hah, wizardry has certainly changed since my day,’ he said.

‘Yes, sir,’ said Ponder noncommittally.

‘And by the way, Mister Stibbons,’ said Ridcully as he opened the door, ‘my day isn’t over yet.’

There was a yell in the distance. And then a crash. Ridcully smiled. The day had suddenly brightened up.

When he and Ponder reached the Great Hall, most of the team were gathered around one of their members lying on the floor, with Nutt kneeling over him.

‘What’s happened here?’ Ridcully demanded.

‘Badly bruised, sir. I shall put a compress on it.’

‘Ah.’ His gaze fell upon a large, brass-bound chest. It looked at first sight like any other chest, until you saw the tiny little toes poking out.

‘Rincewind’s luggage,’ he growled. ‘And where that is, Rincewind can’t be far in front. Rincewind!’

‘Actually, it wasn’t my fault,’ said Rincewind.

‘He’s right, sir,’ said Nutt. ‘I have to apologize for the fact that this was a group misapprehension. I understand it is a remarkably magical chest on hundreds of little legs and I am afraid that the gentlemen here believed that it would play football like stink, as they put it. In which surmise, I have to say, they were proved wrong.’

‘I tried to tell them,’ said the former Dean from the edge of the crowd. ‘Morning, Mustrum. Good team you have here.’

‘All its feet do is get in each other’s way,’ said Bengo Macarona. ‘And if it does get on top of the ball, it spins out of control and, alas, it crashed into Mister Sopworthy here.’

‘Oh, well, we learn by our mistakes,’ said Ridcully. ‘And now, do you happen to have something nice to show me?’

‘I think I have the very thing, Archchancellor,’ said a cheerful but reedy voice behind him.

Ridcully turned and looked into the face of a man with the shape and urgency of a piccolo. He seemed to be vibrating on the spot.

‘Professor Ritornello, Master of the Music,’ Ponder whispered into Ridcully’s ear.

‘Ah, Professor,’ said Ridcully smoothly, ‘and I see you have the choir with you.’

‘Yes indeed, Archchancellor, and I must tell you, I am thrilled and filled with inner light by what I have witnessed this morning! Without ado, I have penned a chant, such as you asked for!’