Soul Music

"Twenty‑seven dollars!" said Ridcully. "Twenty‑seven dollars.to get you out! And the sergeant kept grinning all the time! Wizards arrested!"

He walked along the row of crestfallen figures.

"I mean, how often does the Watch get called in to the Drum?" said Ridcully. "I mean, what did you think you were doing?"

"mumblemumblemumble," said the Dean, looking at the floor.

"I'm sorry?"

"mumblemumbledancingmumble."

"Dancing," said Ridcully levelly, walking back along the row. "That's dancing, is it? Banging into people? Throwin' one another over yer shoulders? Twirling around all over the place? Not even trolls act like that (not that I've got anything against trolls mind you marvellous people marvellous people) and you're supposed to be wizards. People are supposed to look up to you and that's not because you're somersaulting over their heads, Runes, don't think I didn't notice that little display, I was frankly disgusted. The poor Bursar has had to have a lie down. Dancing is… round in circles, don'tcherknow, Maypoles and suchlike, healthy reels, perhaps a little light ballroom… not swinging people round like a dwarf with a battleaxe (mind you salt of the earth dwarfs I've always said so). Do I make myself clear?"

"mumblemumblemumbleeveryonewasdoingitmumble," said the Dean, still looking at the floor.

"I never thought I'd say this to any wizard over the age of eighteen, but you're all gated until further notice!" shouted Ridcully.

Being confined to the campus was not much of a punishment. The wizards usually distrusted any air that hadn't hung around indoors for a while, and mostly lived in a kind of groove between their rooms and the dining table. But they were feeling strange.

"mumblemumbledon'tseewhymumble," mumbled the Dean.

He said, much later on, on the day when the music died, that it must have been because he'd never been really young, or at least young while just being old enough to know he was young. Like most wizards, he'd begun his training while still so small that the official pointy hat came down over his ears. And after that he'd just been, well, a wizard.

He had the feeling, once again, that he'd missed out on something somewhere. He'd never really realized it until the last couple of days. He didn't know what it was. He just wanted to do things. He didn't know what they were. But he wanted to do them soon. He wanted… he felt like a lifelong tundra dweller when he wakes up one morning with a deep urge to go water‑skiing. He certainly wasn't going to stay indoors when there was music in the air…

"mumblemumblemumblenotgonnastayindoorsmumble."

Unaccustomed feelings surged through him. He wanted to disobey! Disobey everything! Including the law of gravity. He was definitely not going to fold his clothes before going to bed! Ridcully was going to say, oh, you're a rebel, are you, what are you rebelling against, and he'd say… he'd say something pretty damn memorable, that's what he'd do! He was

But the Archchancellor had stalked off.

"mumblemumblemumble," said the Dean defiantly, a rebel without a pause.

There was a knock at the door, barely audible above the din. Cliff opened it a cautious fraction.

"It's me, Hibiscus. Here's your beers. Drink 'em up and get out!"

"How can we get out?" said Glod. "Every time they see us they force us to play some more!"

Hibiscus shrugged. "I don't care," he said. "But you owe me a dollar for the beer and twenty‑five dollars for the broken furniture—'

Cliff shut the door.

"I could negotiate with him," said Glod.

"No, we can't afford it," said Buddy.

They looked at one another.

"Well, the crowd loved us," said Buddy. "I think we were a big success. Er."

In the silence Cliff bit the end off a beer bottle and poured the contents over his head.

"What we all want to know is," said Glod, "what you thought you were doing out there?"

"Gook."

"And how come," said Cliff, crunching up the rest of the bottle, "we all knew what to play?"

"Gook."

"And also," said Glod, "what you were singing."

"Er…

""Don't Tread On My New Blue Boots"?" said Cliff. "Gook."

""Good Gracious Miss Polly"?" said Glod.

"Er…"

""Sto Helit Lace"?" said Cliff.

"Gook?"

"It's a kind of very fine lace they make iii the city of Sto Helit," said Glod.

Glod gave Buddy a lopsided look.

"That bit where you said "hello, baby"," he said. "Why'd you do that?"

"Er…"

"I mean, it's not as if they even allow small children into the Drum."

"I don't know. The words were just there," said Buddy. "They were sort of part of the music…"

"And you were… moving about in a funny way. Like you were having trouble with your trousers," said Glod. "I'm not expert on humans, of course, but I saw some ladies in the audience looking at you like a dwarf looks at a girl when he knows her father's got a big shaft and several rich seams."

"Yeah," said Cliff, "and like when a troll is thinking: hey, will you look at der strata on dat one…"