Unseen Academicals

‘Food cooked by a Sugarbean? You may have committed a crime against high art, Drumknott. I shall see her now.’

‘I must point out that you have a full schedule this morning, my lord.’

‘Quite so. It is your job to point this out, and I respect that. But I did not return until half past four this morning and I distinctly remember stubbing my toe on the stairs. I am as drunk as a skunk, Drumknott, which of course means skunks are just as drunk as I. I must say the term is unfamiliar to me, and I had not thought hitherto of skunks in this context, but Mustrum Ridcully was kind enough to enlighten me. Allow me, then, a moment of indulgence.’

‘Well, you are the Patrician, sir,’ said Drumknott. ‘You can do as you please.’

‘That is kind of you to say so, but I did not, in fact, need reminding,’ said Vetinari, with what was almost certainly a smile.

When the severe thin man opened the door, it was too late to flee. When he said, ‘His lordship will see you now, Miss Sugarbean,’ it was too late to faint. What had she been thinking of? Had she been thinking at all?

Glenda followed the man into the next room, which was oak panelled and sombre and the most uncluttered office she had ever seen. The room of the average wizard was so stuffed with miscellaneous things that the walls were invisible. Here, even the desk was clear, apart from a pot of quill pens, an inkwell, an open copy of the Ankh-Morpork Times and–her eye stayed fixed on this one, unable to draw itself away–a mug with the slogan ‘To the world’s Greatest Boss’. It was so out of place it might have been an intrusion from another universe.

A chair was quietly placed behind her. This was just as well, because when the man at the desk looked up she sat down abruptly.

Vetinari pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. ‘Miss… Sugarbean, there are whole rooms in this palace full of people who want to see me, and they are powerful and important people, or at least they think they are. Yet Mister Drumknott has kindly inserted in my schedule, ahead of the Postmaster General and the Mayor of Sto Lat, a meeting with a young cook with her coat on over her apron and an intent, it says here, of “having it out with me”. And this is because I take notice of incongruity, and you, Miss Sugarbean, are incongruous. What is it you want?’

‘Who says I want anything?’

‘Everyone wants something when they are in front of me, Miss Sugarbean, even if it is only to be somewhere else.’

‘All right! You made all the captains drunk last night and got them to sign that letter in the paper!’

The stare did not flicker. That was much worse than, well, anything.

‘Young lady, drink levels all mankind. It is the ultimate democrat, if you like that sort of thing. A drunk beggar is as drunk as a lord, and so is a lord. And have you ever noticed that all drunks can understand one another, no matter how drunk they are and how different their native tongues? I take it for a certainty that you are a relation to Augusta Sugarbean?’ The question, tagged on to the praises of inebriation, hit her between the eyes, scattering her thoughts.

‘What? Oh. Well, yes. That’s right. She was my grandmother.’

‘And she was a cook at the Guild of Assassins when she was younger?’

‘That’s right. She always made a joke about how she wouldn’t let them use any—’ She stopped quickly, but Vetinari finished the sentence for her.

‘—of her cakes to poison people. And we always obeyed, too, because as you surely know, miss, no one likes to upset a good cook. Is she still with us?’

‘She passed on two years ago, sir.’

‘But since you are a Sugarbean, I assume you have acquired a few more grandmothers as a replacement? Your grandmother was always a stalwart in the community and you must take all those little dainties for someone?’

‘You can’t know that, you’re only guessing. But all right, they’re for all the old ladies that don’t get out much. Anyway, it’s a perk.’

‘Oh, but of course. Every job has its little perks. Why, I don’t expect Drumknott here has bought a paperclip in his life, eh, Drumknott?’

The secretary, tidying papers in the background, gave a wan little smile.

‘Look, I only take leftovers—’ Glenda began, but this was waved away.

‘You are here about the football,’ said Vetinari. ‘You were at the dinner last night, but the university likes its serving girls to be tall and I have an eye for such things. Therefore, I assume you made it your business to be there without bothering your superiors. Why?’

‘You’re taking their football away from them!’

The Patrician steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them while he looked at her.

He’s trying to make me nervous, she thought. It’s working, oh, it’s working.