Read Online Unseen Academicals by Terry Pratchett - Free Book Online

became his for the use of. And there was so much for a lad with keen night vision to find. He had already seen some luminous spoon ants carrying a fork, and, to his surprise, the forgotten mazes were home to that very rare indoorovore, the Uncommon Sock Eater. There were some things living up in the pipes, too, which periodically murmured, ‘Awk! Awk!’ Who knew what strange monsters made their home here?
    He cleaned the pie plates very carefully indeed. Glenda had been kind to him. He must show that he was kind, too. It was important to be kind. And he knew where to find some acid.
     
    Lord Vetinari’s personal secretary stepped into the Oblong Office with barely a disturbance in the air. His lordship glanced up. ‘Ah, Drumknott. I think I shall have to write to the Times again. I am certain that one down, six across and nine down appeared in that same combination three months ago. On a Friday, I believe.’ He dropped the crossword page on to the desk with a look of disdain. ‘So much for a Free Press.’
    ‘Well done, my lord. The Archchancellor has just entered the palace.’
    Vetinari smiled. ‘He must have looked at the calendar at last. Thank goodness they have Ponder Stibbons. Show him straight in after the customary wait.’
    Five minutes later, Mustrum Ridcully was ushered in.
    ‘Archchancellor! To what urgent matter do I owe this visit? Our usual meeting is not until the day after tomorrow, I believe.’
    ‘Er, yes,’ said Ridcully. As he sat down, a very large sherry was placed in front of him. * ‘Well, Havelock, the fact of the matter is—’
    ‘But it is in fact quite providential that you have arrived just now,’ Vetinari went on, ignoring him, ‘because a problem has arisen on which I would like your advice.’
    ‘Oh? Really?’
    ‘Yes, indeed. It concerns this wretched game called foot-the-ball…’
    ‘It does?’
    The glass, now in Ridcully’s hand, trembled not a fraction. He’d held his job for a long time, right back to the days when a wizard who blinked died.
    ‘One has to move with the times, of course,’ said the Patrician, shaking his head.
    ‘We tend not to, over the road,’ said Ridcully. ‘It only encourages them.’
    ‘People do not understand the limits of tyranny,’ said Vetinari, as if talking to himself. ‘They think that because I can do what I like I can do what I like. A moment’s thought reveals, of course, that this cannot be so.’
    ‘Oh, it is the same with magic,’ said the Archchancellor. ‘If you flashspells around like there’s no tomorrow, there’s a good chance that there won’t be.’
    ‘In short,’ Vetinari continued, still talking to the air, ‘I am intending to give my blessing to the game of football, in the hope that its excesses can be more carefully controlled.’
    ‘Well, it worked with the Thieves’ Guild,’ Ridcully observed, amazed at his own calmness. ‘If there has to be crime, then it should be organized, I think that’s what you said.’
    ‘Exactly. I have to admit to the view that all exercise for any purpose other than bodily health, the defence of the realm and the proper action of the bowels is barbaric.’
    ‘Really? What about agriculture?’
    ‘Defence of the realm against starvation. But I see no point in people just…running about. Did you catch your Megapode, by the way?’
    How the hells does he do it? Ridcully wondered. I mean, how? Aloud, he said, ‘Indeed we did, but surely you are not suggesting that we were merely “running about”?’
    ‘Of course not. All three exceptions apply. Tradition is at least as important as bowels, if not quite so useful. And, indeed, the Poor Boys’ Fun has some remarkable traditions of its own, which some might find it worthwhile exploring. Let me be frank, Mustrum. I cannot enforce a mere personal dislike against public pressure. Well, I can, strictly speaking, but not without going to ridiculous and indeed tyrannical lengths. Over a game? I think not. So…as