The wizards wiped their foreheads and looked sheepishly at one another.
'Used to nip over for a pint or three most nights,' said the Chair.
'I used to study in the evenings,' said the Dean, primly.
The Chair narrowed his eyes.
'Yes, you always did,' he said. 'I recall.'
It was dawning on the wizards that they were outside the University, at night and without permission, for the first time in decades. A certain suppressed excitement crackled from man to man. Any watcher trained in reading body language would have been prepared to bet that, after the click, someone was going to suggest that they might as well go somewhere and have a few drinks, and then someone else would fancy a meal, and then there was always room for a few more drinks, and then it would be 5 a.m. and the city guards would be respectfully knocking on the University gates and asking if the Archchancellor would care to step down to the cells to identify some alleged wizards who were singing an obscene song in six-part harmony, and perhaps he would also care to bring some money to pay for all the damage. Because inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.
The Chair reached up and grasped the brim of his tall, wide and floppy wizarding hat.
'Right, boys,' he said. 'Hats off.'
They de-hatted, but with reluctance. A wizard gets very attached to his pointy hat. It gives him a sense of identity. But, as the Chair had pointed out earlier, if people knew you were a wizard because you were wearing a pointy hat, then if you took the pointy hat off, they'd think you were just some rich merchant or something.
The Dean shuddered. 'It feels like I've taken all my clothes off,' he said.
'We can tuck them in under Poons' blanket,' said the Chair. 'Noone'll know it's us.'
'Yes,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, 'but will we?'
'They'll just think we're, well, solid burghers.'
'That's just what I feel like,' said the Dean. 'A solid
burgher.' j
'Or merchants,' said the Chair. He smoothed back his white hair.
'Remember,' he said, 'if anyone says anything, we're not wizards. Just honest merchants out for an enjoyable evening, right?'
'What does an honest merchant look like?' said a wizard.
'How should I know?' said the Chair. 'So no-one is to do any magic,' he went on. 'I don't have to tell you what'll happen if the Archchancellor hears that his staff has been seen at the common entertainments.'
'I'm more worried about our students finding out,' shuddered the Dean.
'False beards,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, triumphantly. 'We should wear false beards.'
The Chair rolled his eyes.
'We've all GOT beards,' he said. 'What kind of disguise would false beards be?'
'Ah! That's the clever bit,' said the Lecturer. 'No-one would suspect that anyone wearing a false beard would have a real beard underneath, would they?'
The Chair opened his mouth to refute this, and then hesitated.
'Well-' he said.
'But where'd we get false beards at this time of night?' said a wizard doubtfully.
The Lecturer beamed, and reached into his pocket. 'We don't have to,' he said. 'That's the really clever bit: I brought some wire with me, you see, and all you need do is break two bits off, twiddle them into your sideburns, then loop them over your ears rather clumsily like this,' he demonstrated, 'and there you are.'
The Chair stared.
'Uncanny,' he said, at last. 'It's true! You look just like someone wearing a very badly-made false beard.'