‘And then?’ said her voice, like a teacher encouraging a promising pupil.

‘And then the truth can be changed,’ said Nutt.

‘Mister Nutt is a goblin,’ said Trev.

‘Yeah, right,’ said the creature. And the phrase seemed incredibly exotic for someone whose face was looking more birdlike all the time.

‘If I scream, a lot of people will come running,’ said Glenda.

‘And what will they do?’ said the creature.

And what would they do? Glenda thought. They would stand around saying ‘What’s all this then?’ and asking all the same questions we are. She shuffled again as one of the things tried to get to the couch.

‘The orc will kill,’ said a third voice, and another of the things dropped down almost in front of Glenda’s face. Its breath was like carrion.

‘Mister Nutt is kind and gentle and has never hurt anyone,’ said Glenda.

‘Who didn’t deserve it,’ said Trev hurriedly.

‘But now the orc knows it is an orc,’ said a creature. And now they were milling backwards and forwards in a ghastly pavane.

‘I don’t think you’re allowed to touch us,’ said Trev. ‘I really don’t think you can touch us.’

He sat down suddenly beside the recumbent Nutt and dragged Glenda down next to him. ‘I think you ’ave to obey rules,’ said Trev. The moving figures stopped instantly. That was somehow creepier than their movement. They stood there as frozen as statues.

‘They’ve got talons,’ said Glenda, quietly. ‘I can see their talons.’

‘Pounces,’ said Trev.

‘What’re you talking about?’

‘Those big claws are called pounces. The ones at the back are called talons–the ones they carry the prey off with. Everyone gets that wrong.’

‘Except you,’ said Glenda. ‘You’re like the big expert on horrible birdlike creatures all of a sudden.’

‘I can’t help it. Sometimes you just pick stuff up,’ said Trev.

‘We must protect you,’ said one of the females.

‘We don’t need protecting from Mister Nutt! He’s our friend,’ said Glenda.

‘And how many of your friends have claws?’

‘What have we got to worry about here, in Unseen University, which has got great big thick walls and is pretty much generally crawling with wizards?’

One of the women stretched her neck until her face was a few inches from Trev’s. ‘There is an orc in here with you.’

There was a clink of chain. Nutt had moved slightly.

‘You work for somebody, don’t you?’ said Trev. ‘You’ve got tiny little heads. You can’t ’ave enough brains to think this up for yourself. Do the wizards know you’re here?’

Glenda screamed. She had never screamed before, not in a proper way, straight up from the bottom of her terror. Cutting her finger while using the knife carelessly didn’t count and almost certainly would never have been so loud. The scream echoed along the passages, bounced into the cellars and made the undercrofts ring[17].

Glenda screamed a second time and, as her lungs had got into practice, she managed to make this one even louder. There were hurrying footsteps from both directions.

That was reassuring.

She was not certain how reassuring was the little clink and sliding of metal that suggested a chain had broken.

The creatures went into an instant panic, trying to take wing at once. They were as clumsy as herons and got in one another’s way.

‘And don’t come back!’ she yelled as they disappeared back into the dark. Then she turned to Trev, her heart thumping, and said, ‘What is an orc?’

‘I dunno. I think it’s some kind of old bogey man,’ said Trev.

‘And what were those things?’

‘I know it sounds silly,’ said Trev, ‘but we saw one of them the other night, and he seems to think they’re, like… friends.’

Butchers, bakers, butlers and bledlows came hurrying out of the dark corridors and one of them was Bledlow Nobbs (no relation), who was inexplicably wearing just his official hat, a string vest and a pair of shorts, far too short and far too tight for a man the size of Bledlow Nobbs (no relation).

He looked at Glenda and then glared at Trev. People like Trev were, as far as Bledlow Nobbs (no relation) was concerned, an automatic enemy. ‘Did you scream? What’s been going on?’ he said.

‘I’m sorry, I made an improper suggestion,’ Trev said. He looked at Glenda, his expression saying, ‘Help me out here.’

‘I’m afraid I let my girlish modesty get the better of me,’ she said, cursing him with her eyes.

‘It must have been a pretty strange suggestion,’ said a baker, who seemed to think that an extremely long loaf would have been a suitable aid to combat, but he was grinning–and grinning was good.

If this ends up with no more than sniggering and grinning then we’ll all be happy, Glenda thought. Hard to live down afterwards, but still good.

‘But what’s that bloke chained to that bed for?’ said the bledlow.

‘Yeah, what kind of improper suggestions go on around here?’ said the baker. He really was having fun.

I am going to kill someone before the end of all this and it might just have to be myself, thought Glenda.

‘Isn’t that Mister Nutt?’ said the bledlow. ‘We’re supposed to be in training in five minutes.’

There was another clink behind Glenda and Nutt’s voice said, ‘Don’t worry, Alphonse, I often do this trick. Dynamic tension you know, helps build up the muscles.’

‘Alphonse?’ said the baker, looking incredulously at the bledlow. ‘I thought your name was Alfred, Alf for short. Alphonse is a Quirmian name if ever I’ve heard one. You’re not from there, are you?’ That was an accusation as much as a question.

‘What’s wrong with Alf being short for Alphonse?’ said the bledlow. He had very large hands that might have troubled even Mustrum Ridcully in a game of pat-a-cake. Also, his ears were going red, never a good sign in a man of his size.

‘Oh, I never said it wasn’t a nice name,’ said the baker, belatedly using his loaf. ‘But I would never have figured you for an Alphonse. It just goes to show that you never can tell.’

‘I am an orc,’ said Nutt quietly.

‘Actually, Alphonse is quite a nice name,’ the baker went on. ‘The phonse spoils it a bit, but the Alf I quite like.’ He paused and turned to Nutt. ‘What do you mean, “orc”?’

‘An orc,’ said Nutt again.

And away in the distant central heating pipes there was a scream of ‘Awk! Awk!’

‘Don’t be daft, there’s no such thing as orcs any more. They all got killed off hundreds of years ago. Bloody hard to kill, too, I read somewhere,’ said a butler.

‘In the latter part of your statement you are substantially correct,’ said Nutt, still chained to the couch. ‘However, nevertheless, I am an orc.’

Glenda looked down. ‘You told me you’re a goblin, Mister Nutt. You told me you’re a goblin.’

‘I was misinformed,’ said Nutt. ‘I know I am an orc. I think I have always known that I am an orc. I have opened the door and read the book and I know the truth of my soul and I am an orc, and for some reason I am an orc with a terrible urge to smoke a cigar.’

‘But they were like these big horrible monsters that wouldn’t stop fighting and were quite happy to tear off their own arm to use as a weapon,’ said Bledlow Nobbs (no relation). ‘There was an article about them in Bows & Ammo.’

Every eye turned to Nutt’s arms. ‘Certainly that is the judgement of history,’ said Nutt. He looked up at Glenda. ‘I am so sorry,’ he said. ‘I disobeyed, everybody does it, you see. Schnouzentintle says as much in his book The Obedience of Disobedience. So I wondered what was in the cupboard. And I already had some expertise with lockpicks. I opened the cupboard, I read the book and… ’His chains clinked as he shifted position. ‘I disobeyed. I think everybody does it. We are very good at hiding from ourselves what we do not want to know. Believe me; I was very good at keeping that from myself. But it leaks out, you see, in dreams and things when you have dropped your guard. I am an orc. There is no doubt about that.’