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stand, we find teams of burly men pushing and shoving and kicking and biting in the faint hope, it seems to me, of propelling some wretched object at some distant goal. I have no problem with them trying to kill one another, which has little in the way of a downside, but it has now become so popular once more that property is being damaged, and that cannot be tolerated. There have been comments in the Times . No, what the wise man cannot change he must channel.’
    ‘And how do you intend to do that?’
    ‘By giving the job to you. Unseen University has always had a fine sporting tradition.’
    ‘“Had” is the right word,’ sighed Ridcully. ‘In my day we were all so…so relentlessly physical. But if I was to suggest so much as an egg and spoon race these days they’d use the spoon to eat the egg.’
    ‘Alas, I did not know your day was over, Mustrum,’ said Lord Vetinari, with a smile.
    The room, never normally noisy, sank into deeper silence.
    ‘Now look here—’ Ridcully began.
    ‘This afternoon I shall be speaking to the editor of the Times, ’ said Vetinari, gently surfing his voice over that of the wizard with all the skill of a born committee manipulator, ‘who is, as we know, a very civic-minded person. I’m sure he will welcome the fact that I am asking the university to tame the demon foot-the-ball, and that you have, after careful thought, agreed to the task.’
    I don’t have to do this, Ridcully thought carefully. On the other hand, since it is what I want, and thereby don’t have to ask for, this may be unwise. Damn! This is so like him!
    ‘You would not object if we raise our own team?’ he managed.
    ‘Indeed, I positively demand that you do so. But no magic, Mustrum. I must make that clear. Magic is not sporting, unless you are playing against other wizards, of course.’
    ‘Oh, I am a very sporting man, Havelock.’
    ‘Capital! How is the Dean settling in at Brazeneck, by the way?’
    If it had been anyone else asking, Ridcully thought, that would simply be a polite enquiry. But this is Vetinari, isn’t it…
    ‘I’ve been too busy to find out,’ he said loftily, ‘but I’m sure he will be fine when he finds his feet.’ Or manages to see them without a mirror, he added to himself.
    ‘I’m sure you must be pleased to see your old friend and colleague making his way in the world,’ said Vetinari, innocently. ‘And so is Pseudopolis itself, of course. I must say, I admire the sturdy burghers of that city for embarking on their noble experiment in this…this democracy,’ he went on. ‘It is always good to see it attempted again. And sometimes amusing, too.’
    ‘There is something to be said for it, you know,’ grunted Ridcully.
    ‘Yes, I believe you practise it at the university,’ said the Patrician, with a little smile. ‘However, on the matter of football we are in accord. Capital. I will tell Mister de Worde what you are doing. I’m sure that the keen players of foot-the-ball will be interested, when someone explains the longer words to them. Well done. Do try the sherry. I am told it is highly palatable.’
    Vetinari stood up, a signal that, in theory at least, the business of the meeting was concluded, and strolled over to a polished stone slab, set into a square wooden table. ‘On a different note, Mustrum…How is your young visitor?’
    ‘My visit—Oh, you mean the…uh…’
    ‘That’s right.’ Vetinari smiled at the slab as if sharing a joke with it. ‘The, as you put it, Uh.’
    ‘I note the sarcasm. As a wizard, I must tell you that words have power.’
    ‘As a politician, I must tell you I already know. How is he getting along? Concerned minds would like to know.’
    Ridcully glanced at the little carved men on the playing slab as if they were listening to him. In a roundabout way, they probably were. Certainly it was well known now that the hands that guided half the pieces lived in a big castle in Uberwald, and were female and belonged to a