You think it’s all over?

The wizards of Unseen University knew how to party. Pepe and Madame Sharn[26] were impressed. However, business was business and they had to think about Juliet. ‘I can’t see her anywhere,’ said Madame.

‘I think I saw two of her a while ago,’ said Pepe. ‘These fellows do themselves well–I have never seen such a large cheeseboard. It almost makes celibacy seem worthwhile.’

‘Oh, do you think so?’

‘No. By the way, have you noticed that very tall wizard giving you the eye, my dear?’

‘That’s Professor Bengo Macarona. Do you think he—’ Madame began.

‘Without a shadow of a doubt, my dear. I know he’s hurt his legs, but I doubt if that would be a problem.’

Once again, Madame craned to search the crowd for the glittering figure. ‘I do hope our young model is not getting involved in any hanky panky.’

‘How could she? She’s totally surrounded by admirers.’

‘It’s still possible.’

In fact, Juliet and Trev were sitting in the darkness of the Night Kitchen. ‘I’ll find somethin’ to do,’ said Trev. ‘I’ll go wherever you go.’

‘You ought to stay here and play football,’ said Juliet. ‘You know what some people said when we were drinking? They said Dave Likely was your father.’

‘Well, yes, that’s true.’

‘Yes,’ said Juliet, ‘but they used to say you were his son.’

‘Well, maybe a bit of football,’ Trev conceded, ‘but I don’t think I’ll get away with the tin can again.’

They kissed.

There and then, that was all that appeared necessary.

However…

Glenda and Nutt had also wanted to find a place a little out of the way and, if possible, dark. Fortuitously she had pulled out of her pocket a pair of tickets, placed there by Dr Hix in his attempt to spread darkness and despondency throughout the world by the means of amateur dramatics, to the Dolly Sisters Players’ production of Starcrossed by Hwel the Playwright. They sat hand in hand, watching it solemnly, feeling the ripples move them, then discussed it as they walked back through the city, carefully skirting the chanting bands of happy, drunken supporters.

‘What did you think?’ said Nutt, after a while. ‘About the play, I mean.’

‘I don’t see that it was that romantic,’ said Glenda. ‘To be honest, I thought it was a bit silly.’

‘It is widely regarded as one of the great romantic plays of the last fifty years,’ said Nutt.

‘Really? But what type of example are they setting? First of all, didn’t anyone in Genua, even in those days, know how to take a pulse? Is a little first-aid knowledge too much to expect? Even a hand mirror would have helped and there are quite a number of respectable places where you can take a pulse.’

‘I think that’s because neither of them were thinking about themselves, perhaps,’ said Nutt.

‘Neither of them was thinking at all,’ said Glenda, ‘and they certainly weren’t thinking about each other as people. A little common sense and they would be alive. It’s made-up, like books. I don’t think anyone sensible would act like that.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘Sometimes you speak like Ladyship,’ he said, ‘and that reminds me.’

‘Reminds you of what?’

‘It’s time for me to meet my maker.’

Andy Shank walked unsteadily among the night-time alleys, secure in the knowledge that they contained nothing worse than him, a belief which, as it happened, was in error.

‘Mister Shank?’

‘Who’s asking?’ he said, turning around and reaching instinctively into his coat for his new cutlass.

But another knife, silver and thin, sliced twice and a foot expertly stamped the length of his shin and forced him to the ground. ‘Me! I’m the happy ending. You can call me the good fairy. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to see by the time you wipe the blood out of your eyes and, as they say, now you won’t have to pay for a drink in any bar in this town, though I suspect you never have.’

His attacker leaned nonchalantly against the wall.

‘And the reason I am doing this, Mister Shank, is that I am a bastard. I am an old bugger. I am a sod. They let you get away with it because they were nice people and, you know, the world needs someone like me to set the balance square. Since before you were born I have known people like you. Tormentors, bullies and thieves. Ah yes, thieves. Thieves of other people’s self-respect. Thieves of their peace of mind. Now Mister Nutt, he’s an orc and I’ve heard that he can talk people better. Well, so be it, say I. If it works, he’s a genius, but that don’t square things, not in my book, so I thought you ought to meet Pepe, just to say hello. If I ever see you again, they’ll never find all the pieces, but just to show that I have a decent streak, here’s something to put on your wounds.’

Something landed softly near Andy’s groping hand.

Andy, dripping blood and snot on to the pavement, reached around quickly as the trim little footsteps disappeared, thinking only of getting the blood out of his eyes and revenge and retribution out of his heart. And in the circumstances, therefore, he should not have wiped the half-lemon across his face.

You think it’s all over?

It is a regrettable fact that when two people are dining at a very large and impressive dining table they sit at the opposite ends of the long axis. This is incredibly stupid and makes conversation difficult and the passing of food impossible, but even Lord Vetinari and Lady Margolotta had apparently signed up to the idea.

On the other hand, they both ate very little and so there wasn’t very much to pass.

‘Your secretary seems to be getting on very well with my librarian,’ said Lady Margolotta.

‘Yes,’ observed Vetinari. ‘Apparently they are comparing ring binders. He has invented a new one.’

‘Well, for the proper working of the world,’ said Lady Margolotta, ‘it is essential that ring binders are important to at least one person.’ She put down her glass and looked towards the door.

‘You seem nervous,’ said Vetinari. ‘Are you wondering how he will come?’

‘He has had a very long day and a remarkably successful one. And you say he’s gone to an amateur dramatics performance?’

‘Yes, with that very forthright young lady who makes the pies,’ said Vetinari.

‘I see,’ said Lady Margolotta. ‘He must know I am here and he’s gone off with a cook?’

There was just a trace of a smile on Vetinari’s lips. ‘Not any cook. A genius amongst cooks.’

‘Well, I must admit to being surprised,’ said her ladyship.

‘And upset?’ said Vetinari. ‘A little jealous, perhaps?’

‘Havelock, you go too far!’

‘Would you expect otherwise? Besides, you must surely realize that his triumph is yours too?’

‘Did I tell you that I’ve seen some of them?’ said Margolotta after a while.

‘The orcs?’

‘Yes. They really are wretched. Of course, people say that about the goblins and while it is true that they religiously save their own snot, and, frankly, just about everything else, at least there is a logic to it.’

‘Well, a religious logic, at least,’ murmured Vetinari. ‘They tend to be quite stretchable.’

‘The Igors made them from men, did you know?’

Vetinari, still holding his glass, walked to the other end of the table and picked up the pepperpot. ‘No. However, now you tell me, it’s patently obvious. Goblins would not have been nearly ferocious enough.’

‘And they had nothing,’ said Margolotta. ‘No culture, no legends, no history–he could give them those.’

‘Everything they are not, he is,’ said Vetinari, adding, ‘but that’s an enormous weight you’re putting on his shoulders.’

‘How much is on mine? How much of a weight is on yours?’