‘Ten dollars including lace-up bodice. A bargain in anybody’s money,’ said Charlie from behind his curtain. ‘Very slinky.’

There had been no reply because Glenda’s mouth had stuck in the act of opening, but she finally managed a polite, but firm, ‘No.’

The head of the Department of Post-Mortem Communications gave a little sigh. ‘I thought as much, but we are part of the scheme of things. Light and dark. Night and day. Sweet and sour. Good and evil (within acceptable college statutes). It just helps if you can have sensible and reliable people on both sides, but I’m glad that we’ve been able to be of assistance. We don’t see many people down here. Well, not people as such.’

This time Glenda walked along the corridor. ‘Orc,’ she thought. ‘A thing that just kills.’ Every time she blinked, the image came back to her. The teeth and claws of a creature in full leap seen, as far as one could tell, by whoever it was it was leaping at. Fighters you couldn’t stop. And Nutt had been killed, according to Trev, and then sort of became unkilled again before going back to Unseen University and eating all the pies.

There was an awfully big gap in all this, but men with whips filled it. You can’t have something that just fights, she thought. It has to do other things as well. And Nutt isn’t any stranger than most of the people you see around these days. It’s not a lot to go on, though, but then again, the Evil Emperor was a sorcerer, everyone knew that. Everyone knows you can’t help how you’re made. Well, it’s worth a try. It’s a little bit of uncertainty.

As soon as she arrived back outside Nutt’s special place, she sensed that it would be empty. She pushed the door open and there was a definite absence of candles and, more importantly, a very noticeable absence of Nutt. But I told him to go and help them train. That’s where he’s gone, to go and train, definitely, she said to herself. So no need to worry, then.

On edge, feeling that something was nevertheless wrong, she forced herself back to the Night Kitchen.

She was nearly there when she met Mr Ottomy, his scrawny Adam’s apple as red and glistening as chicken giblets.

‘So, we’ve got a man-eating orc down here, have we?’ he said. ‘People aren’t going to stand for that. I heard somewhere that they could go on fighting while their heads are chopped off.’

‘That’s interesting,’ said Glenda. ‘How did they know which way to go?’

‘Ah-ah! They could smell their way,’ said the bledlow.

‘How could they do that with their heads chopped off? Are you telling me they had a nose up their arse?’ She was shocked at herself for saying that, it was bad language, but Ottomy was bad language made solid.

‘I don’t hold with it,’ he said, ignoring the question. ‘You know something else I heard? They were kind of made. When the Evil Emperor wanted fighters he got some of the Igors to turn goblins into orcs. They’re not really proper people at all. I’m going to complain to the Archchancellor.’

‘He already knows,’ said Glenda. Well, he must do, she thought. And Vetinari, too, she added to herself. ‘You’re not going to make trouble for Mister Nutt, are you?’ she said. ‘Because if you are, Mister Ottomy’–she leaned forward–‘you will never be seen again.’

‘You shouldn’t threaten me like that,’ he said.

‘You’re right, I shouldn’t,’ said Glenda. ‘I should have said that you will never be seen again, you egregious slimy little twerp. Go and tell the Archchancellor if you like and see how much good that does you.’

‘They ate people alive!’ said Ottomy.

‘So did trolls,’ said Glenda. ‘Admittedly they spat them out again, but not in much of a state to enjoy life. We used to fight dwarfs once and when they cut you off at the knees they weren’t joking. We know, Mister Ottomy, that the leopard can change his shorts,’ she sniffed, ‘and it might be a good idea if you did, too. And if I hear of any trouble from you, you will hear from me. Up there it’s the Archchancellor. Down here in the dark, it’s cutlery.’

‘I’ll tell him what you said,’ said the luckless bledlow, backing away.

‘I would be very grateful if you did,’ said Glenda. ‘Now push off.’

Why do we tell one another that the leopard cannot change his shorts? she mused as she watched him scurry away. Has anyone ever seen a leopard wearing shorts? And how would they be able to put them on if they had them? But we go on saying it as if it was some kind of holy truth, when it just means that we’ve run out of an argument.

There was something she had to do, now what was it? Oh, yes. She went over once again to the cauldron on which she had chalked ‘Do Not Touch’ and lifted up the lid. The beady eyes stared up at her from the watery depths and she went away and got a few scraps of fish, which she dropped towards the waiting claws. ‘Well, I know what to do with you, at least,’ she said.

A fully working kitchen holds a great many things, not least of which is a huge collection of ways of committing horrible murder, plus multiple ways of getting rid of the evidence. This wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed her mind. She was quite glad about it. For now, she selected a really thick pair of gloves from a drawer, put her old coat on again, reached into the cauldron and picked up the crab. It snapped at her. She knew it would. Never, ever expect gratitude from those you help.

‘Tide’s turning,’ she told the crustacean, ‘so we’re going to take a little walk.’ She dropped it into her shopping bag and headed across the university lawns.

A couple of graduate wizards were working in the university boatyard nearby. One looked at her and said, ‘Are you supposed to be walking on the university lawns, madam?’

‘No, it is absolutely forbidden to kitchen staff,’ said Glenda.

The students looked at one another. ‘Oh, right,’ said one of them.

And that was it.

As easy as that.

It was only a metaphorical hammer. It only hit you if you allowed it to be there.

She pulled the crab out of her bag and it waved its claws irritably. ‘See that over there?’ she said, waving her own spare hand. ‘That’s Hen and Chickens Field.’ It’s doubtful whether the crab’s beady eyes could focus on the grassy waste across the river, but at least she pointed it in the right direction. ‘People think it’s because there was chickens kept there,’ she went on conversationally while the two wizards looked at one another. ‘As a matter of fact, that’s not so. It used to be where people were hanged, and so when they walked out from the old gaol that used to be over there, the priest in front of the procession with his billowing robes seemed to lead the line of doomed men and gaolers like a hen leading its chicks. That sort of thing is what we call a droll sense of humour in these parts and I haven’t got the faintest idea why I’m talking to you. I’ve done my best. You now know more than any other crab.’

She walked down to the very edge of what passed for water as the river flowed through the city, and dropped the crab into it. ‘Stay clear of crab pots and don’t come back.’ She turned round and realized the wizards had been watching her. ‘Well?’ she snapped. ‘Is there any law about talking to crabs around here?’ She then gave them a little smile as she walked past.

Back in the long corridors she wandered, feeling a little light-headed, towards the vats. Some of its denizens eyed her nervously as she passed through, but there was no sign of Nutt, not that she was looking for him at all. As she walked on towards the Night Kitchen, Trev and Juliet appeared. Glenda couldn’t help but notice that Juliet had a somewhat bright-eyed and ruffled look. That is, she couldn’t help but notice because she made a point of noticing every time. Semi-parental responsibility was a terrible thing.