Unseen Academicals

‘If we change ends,’ said the Chair, who had put his hand up, ‘will that then mean that the goals that were scored into our own goal will now become goals scored against the opposing team since that goal is now physically theirs?’

Ponder considered the metaphysics of answering this one and settled for, ‘No, of course not. I have a whole list of other notes, Archchancellor, and regrettably they add up to us not being very good at football.’

The wizards fell silent. ‘Let’s start with the ball,’ said Ridcully. ‘I’ve got an idea about the ball.’

‘Yes, sir. I thought you would.’

‘Then come and see me after dinner.’

Juliet had been sucked into the manic circus that was the backstage area of Shatta, and no one was paying Glenda any attention whatsoever. Just for now, she was a hindrance, surplus, no use to anyone, an obstruction to be worked around, an onlooker in the game. A little way away, a handsome young dwarf with a double ponytail beard was waiting patiently while a temporary rivet was put into what looked like a silver cuirass. She was surrounded by workers in much the same way as a knight is when his vassals must dress him for combat. Standing a little apart from them were two taller dwarfs, whose weaponry looked slightly more functional than beautiful. They were male. Glenda knew this simply because any female of any sapient species knows the look of a man who has nothing very much to do in an environment that, for this time, is clearly occupied by and totally under the control of females. It looked as though they were on guard.

Propelled by the sherry, she wandered over. ‘That must cost a lot of money,’ she said to the nearest guard. He looked slightly embarrassed by the approach.

‘You’re telling me. Moonsilver, they call it. We’re even having to walk down the catwalk with her. They say it’s the coming thing, but I dunno. It won’t take an edge and it wouldn’t stop a decent blade. You need Igors to help you smelt it, too. They say it’s worth even more than platinum. Looks good, though, and they say you hardly know you’re wearing it. It’s not what my granddad would have called a metal, but they say that we have to move with the times. Personally, I wouldn’t even hang it on the wall, but there you go.’

‘Girl’s armour,’ said the other guard.

‘What about this micromail stuff?’ said Glenda.

‘Ah, different pocketful of rats entirely, miss,’ said the first guard. ‘I hear they set up and forge it right here in the city, ’cos the best craftsmen are here. Just the job, eh? Chain mail as fine as cloth and strong as steel! It’ll get cheaper, too, they say, and most of all it doesn’t—’

‘Wotcher, Glendy, guess who?’

Someone tapped Glenda on the shoulder. She turned round and saw a vision of heavily but tastefully armoured beauty. It was Juliet, but Glenda only knew this because of the milky-blue eyes. Juliet was wearing a beard.

‘Madame says I’d better wear this,’ she said. ‘It’s not dwarf if it don’t include a beard. What d’you think?’

This time the sherry got in first.

‘It’s actually rather attractive,’ said Glenda, still in mild shock. ‘It’s very–silvery.’

It was a female beard, she could tell. It looked styled and stylish and didn’t have bits of rat in it.

‘Madame says there’s a place saved for you in the front row,’ said Juliet.

‘Oh, I couldn’t sit in the front row—’ Glenda began, on automatic, but the sherry cut in with, ‘Shut up, stop thinking like your mother, will you, and go and sit down in the damn front row.’

One of the ever-present young ladies chose this exact moment to take Glenda by the hand and lead her slightly unsteady feet through the settling chaos, out through the door and back into fairyland. There was indeed a seat waiting for her.

Fortunately, although in the front row it was off to one side. She would have died of shame had it been right in the middle. She clutched her handbag in both hands and risked a look along the row. It was packed. It wasn’t exclusively dwarf, either; there were a number of human ladies, smartly dressed, a little on the skinny side (in her opinion), almost offensively at ease and all talking.

Another sherry mystically appeared in her hand and, as the noise stopped with rat-trap sharpness, Madame Sharn came out through the curtain and began to address the crowded hall. Glenda thought, I wish I’d worn a better coat… At which point the sherry tucked her up and put her to bed.

Glenda only started to think properly again some time later, when she was hit on the head by a bunch of flowers. They struck her just over the ear and as expensive petals rained around her she looked up at the beaming, radiant face of Juliet, at the very edge of the catwalk, halfway through the motions of shouting ‘Duck!’

… And there were more flowers flying and people standing and cheering, and music, and in general the feeling of being under a waterfall with no water but inexhaustible torrents of sound and light.

Out of it all Juliet exploded, throwing herself at Glenda and flinging her arms around her neck.