The new ball was magic, that's what it was. It bounced back to Trev's waiting hand as if by its own free will. For two pins he'd risk kicking it, but he and Nutt and the ball were already picking up a trail of curious street urchins such that he would be guaranteed never to see it again.
'Are you really sure you know 'ow it works?' he said to Nutt.
'Oh, yes, Mister Trev. It's a lot simpler than it looks, although the polyhedrons will need some work, but overall - '
A hand landed on Trev's shoulder. 'Well, now. Trev Likely,' said Andy. 'And his little pet, harder to kill than a cockroach, by all accounts. Something's going on, ain't it, Trev? And you're going to tell me what it is. Here, what's that you're holding?'
'Not today, Andy,' said Trev, backing away. 'You're lucky you didn't end up in the Tanty with Mister One Drop measurin' you up for a hemp collar.'
'Me?' said Andy innocently. 'I didn't do a thing! Can't blame me for what a thicko Stollop does, but something is going on with the football, ain't it? Vetinari wants to muck it about.'
'Just leave it alone, will you?' said Trev.
There was more than the usual gang behind Andy. The Stollop brothers had sensibly spared the streets their presence lately, but people like Andy could always find followers. Like they said, it was better to be beside Andy than in front of him. And with Andy you never knew just when he was -
The cutlass was out in one movement. That was Andy. Whatever it was inside that held back the primeval rage could flick off just like that. And here came the blade with Trev's future written on it in very short words. And it stopped in mid air and Nutt's voice said, 'I believe I could squeeze with enough pressure, Andy, to make your bones grind and flow. There are twenty-seven bones in the human hand. I truly believe that I could make every one of them useless with the slightest extra pressure. However, I would like to give you a chance to revise your current intentions.'
Andy's face was a mix of colours: a white that was almost blue and a rage that was almost crimson. He was trying to pull away and Nutt stood calmly and was completely immoveable. 'Get 'im!' Andy hissed at the world in general.
'Could I regretfully remind you gentlemen that I have another hand?' said Nutt.
He must have squeezed because Andy yelped as his hand ground against the weapon's handle.
Trev knew all too well that Andy did not have friends, he had followers. They were looking at their stricken leader and they were looking at Nutt, and they could see very clearly not only that Nutt had a spare hand, but what he was capable of doing with it. They did not move.
'Very well,' said Nutt. 'Perhaps this has been nothing more than an unfortunate misunderstanding. I am about to release my grip just enough for you to drop the cutlass, Mister Andy, please.'
There was another intake of breath from Andy as the cutlass landed on the stones.
'Now, if you would excuse us, Mister Trev and I are going to walk away.'
'Take the bloody cutlass! Don't leave the cutlass on the ground,' said Trev.
'I am sure Mister Andy would not come after us,' said Nutt.
'Are you bloody mad?' said Trev. He reached down, snatched up the cutlass and said, 'Let 'im go and let's get a move on.'
'Very well,' said Nutt. He must have squeezed a little harder because now Andy slumped to his knees.
Trev pulled Nutt away and towed him through the permanent city crowd. 'That's Andy!' he said, hurrying them along. 'You don't expect logic with Andy. You don't expect him to "learn the error of his ways". Don't look for any sense when Andy's after you. Got that? Don't try talkin' to 'im as if 'e's a human being. Now, keep up with me.'
Dwarf shops were doing well these days, largely because they understood the first rule of merchandising, which is this: I have got goods for sale and the customer has got money. I should have the money and, regrettably, that involves the customer having my goods. To this end, therefore, I will not say 'The one in the window is the last one we have, and we can't sell it to you, because if we did no one would know we have them for sale', or 'We'll probably have some more on Wednesday', or 'We just can't keep them on the shelves', or 'I'm fed up with telling people there's no demand for them' I will make a sale by any means short of physical violence, because without one I am a waste of space.
Glang Snorrisson lived by this rule, but he didn't like people much, an affliction that affects many who have to deal with the general public over a long period, and the two people on the other side of his counter were making him edgy. One was small and looked harmless, but something so deep down in Glang's psyche that it was probably stuffed in his genes was making him nervous. The other intru - customer was not much more than a boy and therefore likely to commit a crime any moment.
Glang dealt with the situation by not understanding anything they said and uttering silly insults in his native tongue. There was hardly a risk. Only the Watch learned Dwarfish, and it came as a surprise when the worryingly harmless one said, in better Llamedos Dwarfish than Glang himself spoke these days: 'Such incivility to the amiable stranger shames your beard and erases the writings of Tak, ancient merchant.'
'What did you say to him?' Trev asked, as Glang spluttered out apologies.
'Oh, just a traditional greeting,' said Nutt. 'Could you pass me the ball, please?' He took the football and bounced it on the floor.
Gloing!
'I suspect you might know the trick of making brimstoned rubber?'
'That was my... my grandfather's name,' Glang stuttered.
'Ah, a good omen,' said Trev quickly. He caught the ball and batted it down again.