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People should hear our music.'
'Sure.' Cliff looked puzzled. 'Right. Of course. Dat's what we want. And some pay, too.'
'Mr Dibbler'll help us,' said Glod, who was too preoccupied to notice the edge in Buddy's voice. 'He must be very successful. He's got an office in Sator Square. Only very posh businesses can afford that .'
A new day suspected that they didn't, either. They seemed to positively enjoy becoming less and less certain about everything and would come in to dinner saying things like 'Wow, we've just overturned Marrowleaf's Theory of Thaumic Imponderability! Amazing !' as if it was something to be proud of, instead of gross discourtesy.
And they were always talking about splitting the thaum, the smallest unit of magic. The Archchancellor couldn't see the point. So you had bits all over the place. What good would that do? The universe was bad enough without people poking it.
The door opened.dawned.It had hardly finished doing so before Ridcully hurried through the dewy grass of the University gardens and hammered on the door of the High Energy Magic Building.Generally he never went near the place. It wasn't that he didn't understand what it was the young wizards in there were actually doing, but because he strongly

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bit where you said "hello, baby",' he said. 'Why'd you do that?'
'Er...'
'I mean, it's not as if they even allow small children into the Drum.'
'I don't know. The words were just there,' said Buddy. 'They were sort of part of the music . . .'
'And you were . . . 'What we do is,' said Cliff, 'we take dat and throw it in de river. All those in favour say "Aye". Or Oook, as the case may be.'
There was another silence. No‑one rushed to pick up the instrument.
'But the thing is,' said Glod, 'the thing is . . . they did love us out there.'
They thought about this.
'It didn't actually feel . . . bad,' said Buddy.moving about in a funny way. Like you were having trouble with your trousers,' said Glod. 'I'm not expert on humans, of course, but I saw some ladies in the audience looking at you like a dwarf looks at a girl when he knows her father's got a big shaft and several rich seams.''Yeah,' said Cliff, 'and like when a troll is thinking: hey, will you look at der strata on dat one . . .''You're certain you've got no elvish in you, are you?' said Glod. 'Once or twice I thought you were acting a bit . . . elvish.''I don't know what's happening!' said Buddy.The guitar whined.They looked at it.

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tomorrow,' said Hibiscus, 'I'll make it . . . six dollars, how about that?'
'Oh, wow,' said Glod.
Mustrum Ridcully was jolted upright in bed, because the bed itself was being gently vibrated across the floor.
So it had happened at last!
They were out to get him.
The tradition of promotion in the They were sitting in the tiny cramped room behind the bar.
Glod took off his helmet and wiped the inside.
'Would you believe four beats to the bar, two‑four time, melody led, with the bass beat forward in the melody?'
'What's all dat?' said Lias. 'What's all dem words mean?'
'You're a musician, ain't you?' said Glod. 'What do you think you do?'
'I hits 'em with de hammers,' said energetically pumping the bellows and making occasional little 'ooks' of excitement, felt there was a lot more that it could do.
A fully grown male orang‑utan may look like an amiable pile of old carpets but he has a strength in him that would make a human of equivalent weight eat lots of rug. The Librarian only stopped pumping when the lever was too hot to hold and the air reservoirs were farting and whistling around the rivets.
Then he swung himself up into the

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three days,' he said.
They rounded the bulk of Unseen University and ambled along The Backs, a dusty little street that saw little traffic or passing trade and was therefore much favoured by the Watch as a place to lurk and have a smoke and explore the realms of the mind.
'You know salmon, sarge,' said Nobby.
'It is a fish of which window, the rickety door.
"Course,' he said. 'It's always been there. Been there years.'
Colon crossed the street and rubbed at the grime. There were dark shapes vaguely visible in the gloom.
'Yeah, right,' he mumbled. 'It's just that . . . I mean . . . was it there for years yesterday?'
'You ail right, sarge?'
'Let's go, Nobby,' said the sergeant, walking away as fast as he could.I am aware, yes.''You know they sell kind of slices of it in tins . . .''So I am given to understand, yes.''Weell . . . how come all the tins are the same size? Salmon gets thinner at both ends.''Interesting point, Nobby. I think–’The watchman stopped, and stared across the street. Corporal Nobbs followed his gaze.'That shop,' said Sergeant Colon. 'That shop there . . . was it there yesterday?'Nobby looked at the peeling paint, the little grime-encrusted.

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Francois Boucher Shepherd and Shepherdess Reposing
new helmet my mate Cuddy made me, sir. Hah! People can't say, there go stupid troll. They have to say, who that goodlooking military troll there, acting-constable already, great future behind him, he got Destiny written all over him like writing.'
Vimes digested of the Watch . . . that is, most of the Watch—'
'Hold on a minute,' said Colon, 'here comes his lordship.'
The clop of hooves and the rattle of harness signalled the approach of Lord Vetinari's carriage.
Carrot glanced around at it. Then he looked at it again. And looked up.this. Detritus beamed at him.'And where is Sergeant Colon?''Here, Captain Vimes.''I need a best man, Fred.''Right, sir. I'll get Corporal Carrot. He's just checking the roofs—''Fred! I've known you more than twenty years! Good grief, all you have to do is stand there. Fred, you're good at that!'Carrot appeared at the trot.'Sorry I'm late, Captain Vimes. Er. We really wanted this to be a surprise—''What? What sort of surprise?'Carrot fished in his pouch. 'Well, captain . . . on behalf

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>can't put them in the Watch!' shouted a dwarf from the crowd.
'Why, hello, Mr Stronginthearm,' said Carrot. 'Good to see community leaders here. Why can't they be in the militia?'
All the trolls scanned the faces. 'Right. We need some honest, law-abiding dwarfs . . . you there . . .'
'Me?' said an unwary dwarf.
'Have you got any previous convictions?'
'Well, I dunno . . . I suppose I used to believe very firmly that a penny saved is a penny earned—'
'Good. And I'll take . . . you two . . . and you. Four listened intently. Stronginthearm realized that he was suddenly the centre of attention, and hesitated.'Well . . . you've only got the one dwarf, for one thing . . .' he began.'I'm a dwarf,' said Carrot, 'technically.'Stronginthearm looked a little nervous. The whole issue of Carrot's keenly embraced dwarfishness was a difficult one for the more politically minded dwarfs.'You're a bit big,' he said lamely.'Big? What's size got to do with being a dwarf?' Carrot demanded.'Um . . . a lot?' whispered Cuddy.'Good point,' said Carrot. 'That's a good point.' He

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'May we take some weapons?' he said.
'What?'
'Some weapons? For official purposes?'
The armourer looked unable to cope with this.
'You mean I got a choice?' he said.
'Why, certainly. We practise policing by consent in Ankh-Morpork. If you feel unable to agree to our request, you only have to say the word.'
There was a faint bong as the tip of the iron arrow once again bounced on the back of the armourer's skull. He sought in vain for 'And do you happen to know what it is they say about dwarfs?' said Cuddy.
It crept over Angua once again that Carrot had no irony in his soul. He meant every word. If the man had really held out, Carrot would probably have given in. Of course, there was a bit of a gapsomething to say, because the only word he could think of right now was 'Fire!''Uh,' he said. 'Uh. Yeah. Right. Sure. Take what you want.''Fine, fine. And Sergeant Colon will give you a receipt, adding of course that you release the weapons of your own free will.''My own free will?''You have absolute choice in the matter, of course.'The man's face screwed up in the effort of desperate cogitation.'I reckon . . .''Yes?''I reckon it's OK for you to take 'em. Take 'em right away.''Good man. Do you have a trolley?'