‘Did I?’ said Ridcully, out of the corner of his mouth.

‘You will remember that chanting was mentioned and so I thought it best to alert the professor,’ whispered Ponder.

‘Another pp, eh? Oh, well.’

‘Happily, it is based on the traditional plainchant or stolation form and is a valedicta, or hail to the winner. May I?’ said Professor Ritornello. ‘It is a cappella, of course.’

‘Go ahead, by all means,’ said Ridcully.

The Master of the Music pulled a short baton out of his sleeve. ‘I’ve put the name of Bengo Macarona in there for a marker at the moment, because he has apparently scored two fine “goals”, as I believe they are called,’ he said, dealing carefully with the word as one might deal with a large spider in the bathtub. Then he caught the eyes of his little flock, nodded, and: Hail the unique qualities of Magister Bengo Macarona! Of Macarona the unique qualities Hail! Hail the! Hail the! The singular talent possessed by no other! Hail! Hail the! Hail the bountiful gods! Who to the, two the—SINGULA SINGULAR SINGULA!

After a minute and a half of this Ridcully coughed loudly, and the Master waved the choir into a stuttering silence.

‘Is there something untoward, Archchancellor?’

‘Er, not as such, Master, but, er, do you not feel that it is a bit too, well, long?’ Ridcully was aware that the former Dean was not trying very hard to suppress a snigger.

‘Not at all. In fact, sir, I intend that when it is finished it will be scored for forty voices and, though I dare to say so, will be my masterwork!’

‘But it is something for football fans to sing, you see?’ said Ridcully.

‘Well then,’ said the Master, holding his baton in a rather threatening manner, ‘is it not the duty of the educated classes to raise the standards of the lower orders?’

‘He’s got a point there, Mustrum,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, and Ridcully felt his grandfather kick him in the heredity, and was glad that maid wasn’t here-what was her name now? Oh, yes, Glenda, smart woman-but although she was not there he saw something of her expression in Trev Likely’s face.

‘During the week, possibly,’ he snapped, ‘but not on Saturdays, I think. But very well done, anyway, and I look forward to hearing more of your efforts.’

The Master of the Music flounced out with the choir flouncing out in perfect unison behind him.

Ridcully rubbed his hands together. ‘Well, gentlemen, perhaps you could show me your moves.’

While the players spread out in the Hall, Nutt said, ‘I must say that Professor Macarona is excelling at the game. He clearly has excellent ball skills.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Ridcully brightly.

‘The Librarian is, of course, an excellent keeper of the goal. Especially since he can stand in the middle and reach either side of it. I believe that it will be very hard for any of our opponents to get past him. And, of course, you will be partaking also, Archchancellor.’

‘Oh, you don’t become Archchancellor if you don’t get the hang of things quickly. I will just watch for now.’

He watched. After the second occasion when Macarona, like a silver streak, ran the length of the Hall to flick the ball into the opponents’ goal, Ridcully turned to Ponder and said, ‘We’re going to win, aren’t we?’

‘If indeed he is still playing for you,’ put in the former Dean.

‘Oh, come now, Henry. Can we at least agree to just play one game at a time here?’

‘Well, I think today’s session should end pretty soon, sir,’ said Ponder. ‘It’s the banquet tonight after all and it will take some time to get the place ready.’

‘Excuse me, guv, that’s right,’ said Trev behind him, ‘and we’ve got to get the chandelier down an’ put new candles in.’

‘Yes, but we have been practising a little demonstration for tonight. Maybe the Archchancellor would like to see it,’ said Nutt.

Ridcully looked at his watch. ‘Well, yes, Mister Nutt, but time is getting on and so I look forward to seeing it later. Splendid effort all round, though,’ he boomed.

The night market was setting up in Sator Square as Glenda and Juliet arrived for work. Ankh-Morpork lived on the street, where it got its food, entertainment and, in a city with a ferocious housing shortage, a place to hang around until there was space on a floor. Stalls had been set up anywhere, and flares filled the early-evening air with stink and, almost as a by-product, a certain amount of light.

Glenda could never resist looking, especially now. She was very good at all sorts of cookery, she really was, and it was important to keep that knowledge at the calm centre of her spinning brain. And there was Verity Pushpram, queen of the sea.

Glenda had a lot of time for Miss Pushpram, who was a self-made woman, although she could have used some help when it came to her eyes, which were set so far apart that she rather resembled a turbot.

But Verity, like the ocean that was making her fortune these days, had hidden depths, because she’d made enough to buy a boat, and then another boat and a whole aisle in the fish market. But she still woman-handled her barrow to the square most evenings, where she sold whelks, shrimps, leather crabs, blossom prawns, monkey clams and her famous hot fish sticks.

Glenda often bought from her; there was the kind of respect you give to an equal who is, crucially, no threat to your own position.

‘Going to the big bun fight, girls?’ said Verity cheerfully, waving a halibut at them.

‘Yes,’ said Juliet proudly.

‘What, both of you?’ said Verity, with a glance towards Glenda, who said, firmly, ‘The Night Kitchen is expanding.’

‘Oh well, so long as you’re having fun,’ said Verity, looking, in theory, from one to the other. ‘Here, have one of these, they’re lovely. My treat.’

She reached down and picked a crab out of a bucket. As it came up it turned out that three more were hanging on to it.

‘A crab necklace?’ giggled Juliet.

‘Oh, that’s crabs for you,’ said Verity, disentangling the ones who had hitched a ride. ‘Thick as planks, the lot of them. That’s why you can keep them in a bucket without a lid. Any that tries to get out gets pulled back. Yes, as thick as planks.’ Verity held the crab over an ominously bubbling cauldron. ‘Shall I cook it for you now?’

‘No!’ said Glenda, much louder than she had intended.

‘Are you okay, dear?’ Verity enquired. ‘You look a bit ill.’

‘I’m fine. Fine. Just a touch of a sore throat, that’s all.’ Crab bucket, she thought. I thought Pepe was talking nonsense. ‘Erm, can you just truss it up for us? It’s going to be a long night.’

‘Right you are,’ said Miss Pushpram, expertly wrapping the unresisting crab in twine. ‘You know what to do, that’s certain. Lovely crabs, these, real good eating. But thick as planks.’

Crab bucket, thought Glenda as they hurried towards the Night Kitchen. That’s how it works. People from the Sisters disapproving when a girl takes the trolley bus. That’s crab bucket. Practically everything my mum ever told me, that’s crab bucket. Practically everything I’ve ever told Juliet, that’s crab bucket, too. Maybe it’s just another word for the Shove. It’s so nice and warm on the inside that you forget that there’s an outside. The worst of it is, the crab that mostly keeps you down is you… The realization had her mind on fire.

A lot hinges on the fact that, in most circumstances, people are not allowed to hit you with a mallet. They put up all kinds of visible and invisible signs that say ‘Do not do this’ in the hope that it’ll work, but if it doesn’t, then they shrug, because there is, really, no real mallet at all. Look at Juliet talking to all those nobby ladies. She didn’t know that she shouldn’t talk to them like that. And it worked! Nobody hit her on the head with a hammer.

And custom and practice as embodied by Mrs Whitlow was that the Night Kitchen staff should not go above stairs, to where the light was comparatively clean and had not already been through a lot of other eyeballs. Well, Glenda had done that, and nothing bad had happened, had it? So now Glenda strode towards the Great Hall, her serviceable shoes hitting the floor enough to hurt. The Day girls said nothing as she marched in behind them. There was nothing for them to say. The real unwritten rule was that girls on the dumpy side didn’t serve at table when guests were present, and Glenda had decided tonight that she couldn’t read unwritten rules. Besides, there was a row already going on. The servants who were laying out the cutlery were trying to keep an eye on it, which subsequently meant that more than one guest had to eat with two spoons.