'Two common people can barge in on you without so much as an appointment?'
'But with a pie,' said Vetinari quickly.
'You were expecting them?'
'Let us just say that I was not unduly surprised,' said Vetinari. 'I certainly know about the make-up of Ankh-Morpork United. So does the Watch.'
'And you are going to let them into an arena with a bunch of old wizards who have promised not to do magic?'
'A bunch of old wizards and Mister Nutt,' said Vetinari cheerfully. 'Apparently he's very good at tactical planning.'
'I can't allow that.'
'This is my city, Margolotta. There are no slaves in Ankh-Morpork.'
'He is my ward. I expect you will ignore that, though.'
'I have every intention of doing so. After all, it's only a game.'
'But a game is not about games. And what sort of game do you think you will get tomorrow?'
'A war,' said Vetinari. 'And the thing about war is that it's about war.'
Lady Margolotta shot out her long sleeve and a fine steel dagger was suddenly in her hand.
'I suggest you cut it in half,' said Vetinari, indicating the pie, 'and I will choose which half to pick up.'
'But what if one half has more pickled onions than the other?'
'Then I think that will be open to negotiation. Would you like some more... wine?'
'Did you see that she tried to stare me down?' said Margolotta.
'Yes,' said Vetinari. 'I saw that she succeeded.'
When Glenda and Trev got back to the Hippo, Nutt looked at them expectantly. 'He hardly listened,' said Trev.
'Quite so,' said Nutt. 'I am confident of our success on the morrow. I am quite certain that we will be tactically supreme.'
'I'm just glad I won't be playin', that's all,' said Trev.
'Yes, Mister Trev, that really is a great shame.'
From the nearby table where last-minute adjustments were being made by the Football League came the voice of somebody saying, 'Nah, nah. Look, you've still got it wrong. If a bloke from side B is closer to the goalkeeper¨Cno, I tell a lie¨Cif he's closer to the goal than the goalkeeper, then he surely puts one away there and then. Stands to reason.'
There was a sigh that could only have come from Ponder Stibbons. 'No, I don't think you understand... '
Another voice chipped in. 'If the goalkeeper is that far out of his goal then he's a pillock!'
'Look, let's start again,' said another voice. 'Supposing I'm this bloke here.' Trev looked across and saw one of the men flick a screwed-up piece of paper across the table. 'Like, I've kicked the ball that far and this is me, this piece of paper. Then what?' He flicked the paper once again, which hit Ponder's pencil.
'No! I've already explained that. And stop flicking bits of paper around, I find it very confusing.'
'But it must work if he dribbles on it,' said a voice.
'Hold on a minute, though,' said yet another voice. 'What happens, right, if you get the ball in your own half of the field and run all the way, not passing it to anyone else, and get it into the net?'
'That would be perfectly legal,' said Ponder.