'Gentlemen, pray silence, an expectant one, followed by appreciative applause for the lighting of the chandelier!'
There was the silence.
As a round of applause was followed by some more silence, people turned around in their chairs for a better view of nothing to see.
'Would you please puff on your pipe and hand it to me, sir?' said Nutt.
Shrugging, Ridcully did so. Nutt took it, raised it in the air and -
What happened? It was a topic of conversation for days. Did the red fire come up from the pipe or down from the ceiling or simply out of the walls? All that was certain was that the darkness was suddenly fractured by glowing zigzags that vanished in a blink, leaving a total blackness which cleared like the sky at dawn as all at once every candle, in perfect unison, glowed into life.
As the applause began to mount, Ridcully looked along the table at Ponder, who waved his thaumometer, shook his head and shrugged.
Then the Archchancellor turned to Nutt, took him out of earshot of the table and for the benefit of watchers shook him by the hand.
'Well done, Mister Nutt. Just one thing: that wasn't magic, because we would know, so how was it done?'
'Well, initially, dwarfish alchemy, sir. You know, the kind that works? It is how they light the big chandeliers in the caverns under Bonk. I worked that out by tests and analysis. All the candle wicks are connected by a network of black cotton thread, which terminates in one single thread, which barely shows up in this Hall. You see, the thread is soaked in a formula which burns with extreme but brief ferocity when dry. My slightly altered solution burns considerably faster even than that, consuming the thread until it is nothing but gas. It is quite safe. Only the tips of the candle wicks are treated, you see, and they light as normal. You might be interested, sir, in the fact that the flame travels so fast as to be instantaneous by any human measure. Certainly faster than twenty miles a second, I calculate.'
Ridcully was good at looking blank. You couldn't deal with Vetinari on a regular basis without being able to freeze your expression at will. But, right now, he didn't have to try.
Nutt looked concerned. 'Have I failed to achieve worth, sir?'
'What? Ah. Well.' Ridcully's face thawed. 'A wonderful effort, Nutt. Well done! Er, how did you get hold of the ingredients?'
'Oh, there is an old alchemy room in the cellars.'
'Hmm. Well, thank you again,' said Ridcully. 'But as Master of this university I must ask you not to talk to anyone about this invention until we have spoken again on the matter. Now, I must get back to the events in hand.'
'Don't you worry, sir, I will see that it does not fall into the wrong hands,' said Nutt, bustling off.
Except, of course, that you are the wrong hands, Ridcully thought, as he returned to the table.
'An impressive display,' said Vetinari, as Ridcully took his seat again. 'Am I right in thinking, Mustrum, that the Mister Nutt you referred to is indeed, as it were, the Mister Nutt?'
'That's right, yes, quite a decent chap.'
'And you're letting him do alchemy?'
'I think it was his own idea, sir.'
'And he's been standing here all this time?'
'Very keen. Is there a problem, Havelock?'
'No, no, not at all,' said Vetinari.
It was indeed an impressive display, Glenda acknowledged, but while she watched it she could feel Mrs Whitlow's gaze on her. In theory Glenda's activities would merit another kind of firework display later on, but it wasn't going to happen, was it? She had nailed the invisible hammer. But there were other, if less personal, matters on her mind.
Stupid, silly, and thoughtless though some of her neighbours were, it was up to her, as ever, to protect their interests. They had been dropped into a world they didn't understand, so she had to understand it for them. She thought this because as she prowled between the tables she could make out a certain type of clink, clink noise, and, sure enough, the amount of silverware on the tables appeared to be diminishing. After watching carefully for a moment or two, she walked up behind Mr Stollop and without ceremony pulled three silver spoons and a silver fork out of his jacket pocket.
He spun around and then had the decency to look a bit embarrassed when he saw that it was her.
Glenda didn't have to open her mouth.
'They've got so many,' he protested. 'Who needs all those knives and forks?'
She reached into the man's other pocket and pulled out three silver knives and a silver salt cellar.