Unseen Academicals - Terry Pratchett [39]
‘I ought to smack your ’ead off for that,’ said Billy, sneering at Nutt. ‘That kid don’t look like he could even lift the ball.’
And then a voice behind Trev said, ‘Why, Billy, have they let you out without your collar on?’
Nutt heard Trev mutter, ‘Oh gods, and I was doing so well,’ under his breath, and then his friend turned and said, ‘It’s a free street, Andy. No ’arm in passin’ the time, eh?’
‘The Dollies killed your ol’ man, Trev. Ain’t you got no shame?’
The rest of the Massive Posse was standing behind Andy, their expressions a mix of defiance and the realization that, once again, they were going to be dragged into something. They were out in the main streets now. The Watch was not inclined to get involved in alley scuffles, but out in the open they had to do something in case the taxpayers complained, and since tired coppers didn’t like having to do something, they did it good and hard, so with any luck they wouldn’t have to do it again any time soon.
‘What do you know about all this they’re saying about a Dimmer man and a Dolly tart holding hands in the Shove?’ Andy demanded. He put a heavy hand on Trev’s shoulder. ‘Come on, you’re smart, you always know everything before anyone else.’
‘Tart?’ That was Billy; it was a long way from his ears to his brain. ‘There’s not a girl in Dolly Sisters who’d look at you poxy lot!’
‘Ah, so that’s where we got it from!’ said Carter the Farter. This struck Nutt as inflammatory in the circumstances. Perhaps, he thought, the ritual is that childish insults shall be exchanged until both sides feel fully justified in attacking, just as Dr Vonmausberger noted in Ritual Aggression in Pubescent Rats.
But Andy had fished his short cutlass out of his shirt. It was a nasty little weapon, alien to the true spirit of foot-the-ball, which generally smiled indulgently on things that bruised, scared, fractured and, okay, worst case, heat of the moment and so on, blinded.* But then came Andy, who had issues. And once you had someone like Andy around you, you got other Andys around too, and every kid who might otherwise have gone to a match with a pair of brass knuckles for bravado noticeably clanked when he walked, and needed to be helped up if he fell over.
Now, weapons were being loosened here, too.
‘Careful now, everyone,’ Trev cautioned, stepping back and waving his empty hands in a conciliatory way. ‘This is a busy street, okay? If the Old Sam catch you fightin’, they’ll be down on you with big, big truncheons and they’ll beat you until you ’onk your breakfast, ’cos for why? ’cos they hate you, ’cos you’re making paperwork for ’em and keepin’ ’em out of the doughnut shop.’
He stepped back a little further. ‘And then on account of you damagin’ their weapons with your ’eads they’ll run you down to the Tanty for a nice night in the Tank. Been there? Was it so much fun you want to go back again?’
He noted with satisfaction the looks of dismayed recollection on the faces of all except Nutt, who couldn’t have any idea, and Andy, who was brother to the Tank. But even Andy was not inclined to go up against the Sam. Kill just one of them, and Vetinari would give you one chance to see if you could stand on air.
They relaxed a little, but not too much. All it took in these sphincter-taut circumstances was one idiot…
As it happened, one very clever person was able to do the job, when Nutt turned to Algernon, the youngest Stollop, and said cheerfully, ‘Do you know, sir, that your situation here is very similar to that described by Vonmausberger in his treatise on his experiment with rats?’
At this point, Algernon, after one second of what passed for Algernon as thought, whacked him hard with his club. Algernon was a big boy.
Trev managed to grab his friend before he hit the cobbles. The club had hit Nutt square in the chest and torn the ancient sweater open. Blood was soaking through the stitches.
‘What did you ’ave to go and ’it him for, you bloody fool?’ Trev said to Algernon,