Glenda and Juliet took a trolley bus home, another huge extravagance but, of course, Glenda was carrying more money than she had ever seen at one go. She had stuffed the notes into her bodice, ¨¤ la Madame, and it seemed to generate a heat of its own. You were safe on a troll. Anyone wanting to mug a troll would have to use a building on a stick.
Juliet was quiet. This puzzled Glenda; she had expected her to bubble like a fountain full of soap flakes. The silence was unnerving.
'Look. I know it was a lot of fun,' Glenda said, 'but showing off clothes isn't like a real job, is it?' No. Real jobs pay a lot less, she thought.
Where had that come from? Jools hadn't opened her mouth and the troll was still covered in mountain lichen and had a single-syllable vocabulary. It came from me, she thought. This is about dreams, isn't it? She is a dream. I dare say the micromail is good stuff, but she made it sparkle. And what can I say? You help in the kitchen. You are useful and helpful, at least when you're not daydreaming, but you don't know how to keep accounts or plan a weekly menu. What would you do without me? How would you get on away from here, in foreign parts where folks are so odd?
'I'll have to open a bank account for you,' she said aloud. 'It'll be our little secret, all right? It'll be a nice little nest egg for you.'
'And if Dad don't know I've got the money he won't get it off me and piss it against the wall,' said Juliet, glancing up at the solemn, impassive face of the troll. If Glenda had known how to say 'Pas devant le troll' she would have done so. But it was true: Mr Stollop commanded that all family earnings were pooled, with him holding the pool, which was then pooled with his friends in the bar of the Turkey & Vegetables, and ultimately pooled again in the reeking alley behind it.
She settled for: 'I wouldn't put it quite like that.'
Gloing! Gloing!
The new ball was magic, that's what it was. It bounced back to Trev's waiting hand as if by its own free will. For two pins he'd risk kicking it, but he and Nutt and the ball were already picking up a trail of curious street urchins such that he would be guaranteed never to see it again.
'Are you really sure you know 'ow it works?' he said to Nutt.
'Oh, yes, Mister Trev. It's a lot simpler than it looks, although the polyhedrons will need some work, but overall - '
A hand landed on Trev's shoulder. 'Well, now. Trev Likely,' said Andy. 'And his little pet, harder to kill than a cockroach, by all accounts. Something's going on, ain't it, Trev? And you're going to tell me what it is. Here, what's that you're holding?'
'Not today, Andy,' said Trev, backing away. 'You're lucky you didn't end up in the Tanty with Mister One Drop measurin' you up for a hemp collar.'
'Me?' said Andy innocently. 'I didn't do a thing! Can't blame me for what a thicko Stollop does, but something is going on with the football, ain't it? Vetinari wants to muck it about.'
'Just leave it alone, will you?' said Trev.
There was more than the usual gang behind Andy. The Stollop brothers had sensibly spared the streets their presence lately, but people like Andy could always find followers. Like they said, it was better to be beside Andy than in front of him. And with Andy you never knew just when he was -
The cutlass was out in one movement. That was Andy. Whatever it was inside that held back the primeval rage could flick off just like that. And here came the blade with Trev's future written on it in very short words. And it stopped in mid air and Nutt's voice said, 'I believe I could squeeze with enough pressure, Andy, to make your bones grind and flow. There are twenty-seven bones in the human hand. I truly believe that I could make every one of them useless with the slightest extra pressure. However, I would like to give you a chance to revise your current intentions.'
Andy's face was a mix of colours: a white that was almost blue and a rage that was almost crimson. He was trying to pull away and Nutt stood calmly and was completely immoveable. 'Get 'im!' Andy hissed at the world in general.
'Could I regretfully remind you gentlemen that I have another hand?' said Nutt.
He must have squeezed because Andy yelped as his hand ground against the weapon's handle.
Trev knew all too well that Andy did not have friends, he had followers. They were looking at their stricken leader and they were looking at Nutt, and they could see very clearly not only that Nutt had a spare hand, but what he was capable of doing with it. They did not move.
'Very well,' said Nutt. 'Perhaps this has been nothing more than an unfortunate misunderstanding. I am about to release my grip just enough for you to drop the cutlass, Mister Andy, please.'
There was another intake of breath from Andy as the cutlass landed on the stones.
'Now, if you would excuse us, Mister Trev and I are going to walk away.'
'Take the bloody cutlass! Don't leave the cutlass on the ground,' said Trev.
'I am sure Mister Andy would not come after us,' said Nutt.
'Are you bloody mad?' said Trev. He reached down, snatched up the cutlass and said, 'Let 'im go and let's get a move on.'
'Very well,' said Nutt. He must have squeezed a little harder because now Andy slumped to his knees.
Trev pulled Nutt away and towed him through the permanent city crowd. 'That's Andy!' he said, hurrying them along. 'You don't expect logic with Andy. You don't expect him to "learn the error of his ways". Don't look for any sense when Andy's after you. Got that? Don't try talkin' to 'im as if 'e's a human being. Now, keep up with me.'
Dwarf shops were doing well these days, largely because they understood the first rule of merchandising, which is this: I have got goods for sale and the customer has got money. I should have the money and, regrettably, that involves the customer having my goods. To this end, therefore, I will not say 'The one in the window is the last one we have, and we can't sell it to you, because if we did no one would know we have them for sale', or 'We'll probably have some more on Wednesday', or 'We just can't keep them on the shelves', or 'I'm fed up with telling people there's no demand for them' I will make a sale by any means short of physical violence, because without one I am a waste of space.