'Trevor Likely, guv.'
'Nutt, Archchancellor.'
Ridcully's eyes narrowed. 'Yes... Nutt,' he said, and thought about the spells in his pocket. 'The candle dribbler, yes? Well, you can make yourselves useful. Over to you, Mister Stibbons.'
Ponder Stibbons held out the ball. 'Have you any idea what this is?'
Nutt took it out of his hands and bounced it on the tiles a couple of times.
Gloing! Gloing!
'Yes. It appears to be a simple sphere, although technically I believe it to be, in actual fact, a truncated icosahedron, made by stitching together a number of pentagons and hexagons of tough leather, and stitching means holes and holes let the air leak... Ah, there is lacing just here, you see? There must be some internal bladder¨Canimal, probably. A balloon, as it were, for lightness and elasticity, encapsulated by leather, simple and elegant.' He handed the ball back to Ponder, who was open-mouthed.
'Do you know everything, Mister Nutt?' he said with the sarcasm of a born pedagogue.
Nutt's reply was concentrated and there was a lengthy pause before he said, 'I'm not sure about a lot of the detail, sir.'
Ponder heard a snigger behind him and felt himself redden. He'd been cheeked, by a dribbler, even if Nutt was the most incontinently erudite one he'd ever encountered.
'Do you know where a copy of this may be made?' said Ridcully loudly.
'I expect so,' said Nutt. 'I believe dwarf rubber will be our friend here.'
'There's plenty of dwarfs up at Old Cobblers who could knock one up, guv,' said Trev. 'They're good at this sort of thing, but they'd want paying, they always want paying. Nuffin's on credit when you're dealing with a dwarf.'
'Give these young gentlemen twenty-five dollars, Mister Stibbons, will you?'
'That's a lot of money, Archchancellor.'
'Yes, well, dwarfs, while the salt of the earth, don't have much of a grasp of small numbers and I want this in a hurry. I'm sure I can trust Mister Likely and Mister Nutt with the money, can't I?' He said it jovially, but there was an edge to his voice. Trev, at least, got the message very quickly; a wizard could trust you because of the hellish future he could unleash on you if his trust was betrayed.
'You can certainly trust us, guv.'
'Yes, I thought I could,' said Ridcully.
When they had gone, Ponder Stibbons said, 'You're entrusting them with twenty-five dollars?'
'Yes, indeed,' said Ridcully cheerfully. 'It will be interesting to see the outcome.'
'Nevertheless, sir, I have to say that it was an unwise move.'
'Thank you for your input, Mister Stibbons, but may I gently remind you who is the guv around here?'
Glenda and Juliet took a trolley bus home, another huge extravagance but, of course, Glenda was carrying more money than she had ever seen at one go. She had stuffed the notes into her bodice, ¨¤ la Madame, and it seemed to generate a heat of its own. You were safe on a troll. Anyone wanting to mug a troll would have to use a building on a stick.
Juliet was quiet. This puzzled Glenda; she had expected her to bubble like a fountain full of soap flakes. The silence was unnerving.
'Look. I know it was a lot of fun,' Glenda said, 'but showing off clothes isn't like a real job, is it?' No. Real jobs pay a lot less, she thought.
Where had that come from? Jools hadn't opened her mouth and the troll was still covered in mountain lichen and had a single-syllable vocabulary. It came from me, she thought. This is about dreams, isn't it? She is a dream. I dare say the micromail is good stuff, but she made it sparkle. And what can I say? You help in the kitchen. You are useful and helpful, at least when you're not daydreaming, but you don't know how to keep accounts or plan a weekly menu. What would you do without me? How would you get on away from here, in foreign parts where folks are so odd?
'I'll have to open a bank account for you,' she said aloud. 'It'll be our little secret, all right? It'll be a nice little nest egg for you.'
'And if Dad don't know I've got the money he won't get it off me and piss it against the wall,' said Juliet, glancing up at the solemn, impassive face of the troll. If Glenda had known how to say 'Pas devant le troll' she would have done so. But it was true: Mr Stollop commanded that all family earnings were pooled, with him holding the pool, which was then pooled with his friends in the bar of the Turkey & Vegetables, and ultimately pooled again in the reeking alley behind it.
She settled for: 'I wouldn't put it quite like that.'
Gloing! Gloing!