'He suspects everything. That is why he is still Patrician.' Ridcully stood up. 'I declare this meet - this overly extended snack... over. Mister Stibbons, come with me!'
Ponder hurried after him, books clutched to his chest, happy for the excuse to get out of there before they turned on him. The bringer of bad news is never popular, especially when it's on an empty plate.
'Archchancellor, I - ' he began, but Ridcully held his finger to his lips.
After a moment of cloying silence, there was a sudden festival of scuffling, as of men fighting in silence.
'Good for them,' Ridcully said, heading off down the corridor. 'I wondered how long it would take them to realize that they might be seeing the last overloaded snack trolley for some time. I'm almost tempted to wait and see them waddle out with their robes sagging.'
Ponder stared at him. 'Are you enjoying this, Archchancellor?'
'Good heavens no,' said Ridcully, his eyes sparkling. 'How could you suggest such a thing? Besides, in a few hours I have to tell Havelock Vetinari that we are intending to become a personal affront. The unschooled mob hacking at one another's legs is one thing. I don't believe he will be happy with the prospect of our joining in.'
'Of course, sir. Er, there is a minor matter, sir, a small conundrum, if you will... Who is Nutt?'
There seemed to Ponder to be a rather longer pause than necessary before Ridcully said, 'Nutt would be... ?'
'He works in the candle vats, sir.'
'How do you know that, Stibbons?'
'I do the wages, sir. The Candle Knave says Nutt just turned up one night with a chitty saying he was to be employed and paid minimal wage.'
'Well?'
'That's all I know, sir, and I only found that out because I asked Smeems. Smeems says he's a good lad but sort of odd.'
'Then he should fit right in, don't you think, Stibbons? In fact, we are seeing how he fits in.'
'Well yes, sir, no problem there, but he's a goblin, apparently, and generally, you know, it's a sort of odd tradition, but when the first people from other races first come to the city they start out in the Watch... '
Ridcully cleared his throat, loudly. 'The trouble with the Watch, Stibbons, is that they ask too many questions. We should not emulate them, I suggest.' He looked at Ponder and appeared to reach a decision. 'You know that you have a glowing future here at UU, Stibbons.'
'Yes, sir,' said Ponder gloomily.
'I would advise you, with this in mind, to forget all about Mister Nutt.'
'Excuse me, Archchancellor, but that simply will not do!'
Ridcully swayed backwards, like a man subjected to an attack by a hitherto comatose sheep.
Ponder plunged on, because when you have dived off a cliff your only hope is to press for the abolition of gravity.
'I have twelve jobs in this university,' he said. 'I do all the paperwork. I do all the adding up. In fact, I do everything that requires even a modicum of effort and responsibility! And I go on doing it even though Brazeneck have offered me the post of Bursar! With a staff! I mean real people, not a stick with a knob on the end. Now... Will... You... Trust... Me? What is it about Nutt that is so important?'
'The bastard tried to lure you away?' said Ridcully. 'How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless Dean! Is there nothing he will not stoop to? How much did - '
'I didn't ask,' said Ponder quietly.
There was a moment of silence and then Ridcully patted him a couple of times on the shoulder.
'The problem with Mister Nutt is that people want to kill him.'
'What people?'
Ridcully stared into Ponder's eyes. His lips moved. He squinted up and down like a man engaged in complex calculation. He shrugged.
'Probably everybody,' he said.