'Keep quiet about it. Don't go home. Buy yourself lots of new stuff. Get yourself sorted out and then go back and see your dad and everybody when you have. The point is, even if you don't go right away, in your mind you should always be going. But the important thing is to go right now. Move out. Get on. Climb up. All the things I should have done.'

'What about Trev?' said Juliet.

Glenda had to think about that. 'How are things with you and Trev, then? I saw you two talking last night.'

'Talking is allowed,' said Juliet defensively. 'Anyhow, he was only telling me how he was going to get himself a better job.'

'Doing what?' said Glenda. 'I've never seen him doing a straight day's work in all the years I've known him.'

'He says he's going to find something,' said Juliet. 'He said Nutt told 'im to. He said Nutt said that when Trev finds out who Trev is, like, he will, like, know what he can do. So I told 'im he was Trevor Likely, and he said that was, you know, helpful.'

I'm stuck, aren't I? Glenda told herself. I'm talking about changing and getting out, so I have to allow that maybe he's going to, too. Aloud, she said, 'It's up to you. It's all up to you, but just mind that he keeps his hands to himself.'

'He always keeps his hands to himself,' said Juliet. 'It's a bit worryin'. I've never had to think about kneeing him in the tonker, not once.'

There was a strangled laugh from Pepe, who had just discovered the wow-wow sauce. The bottle was almost empty and, in theory, he should have no stomach left.

'Never, ever?' said Glenda, mystified at this unnatural history.

'No, he's always very polite and just a bit sad.'

That must mean he's planning something, Glenda's inner self provided. She said, 'Well, it's up to you. I can't help here, but remember, you've always got your knee.'

'And what about... ?' Juliet began.

'Look,' said Glenda firmly, 'either you go off now and see the world and earn lots of money and get your picture in the papers and all of the other things I know you would really like to do, or you have to sort it out for yourself.'

'We're going to be here for some time,' said Pepe. 'You know, this sauce would be nice with a little bit of vodka in it. It really would give it a little bit of zest. A little bit of sparkle. Come to think of it, a lot of vodka would be even better.'

'But I love 'im!' Juliet wailed.

'That's all right, then, stay here,' said Glenda. 'Have you even kissed?'

'No! He never quite gets round to it.'

'Perhaps he's one of those gentlemen who don't like the ladies,' said Pepe primly.

'And we could really do without your input,' snapped Glenda, turning on him.

'I mean, for some of the others, like Rotten Johnny, I nearly wear my knee out, but Trev's just... sweet, all the time.'

'Look, I know you told me to keep out of this, and I know I've been a terrible sinner in my time and hope to remain so, but I have been around the houses more times than a postman and the reason for this imp ass is obvious,' Pepe volunteered. 'He's got the nous to see that she's so beautiful that she should be painted standing on some shell somewhere without her vest on and little fat pink babies inexplicably zooming around all over the place and he's some kid with nothing more than a bit of street smarts. I mean, it's pointless, isn't it? He's not going to stand a chance and he knows it, even if he doesn't know he knows it.'

'I'd give him a kiss if he wanted one and would definitely not knee him in the tonker,' said Juliet.

'You have to sort it out,' said Glenda. 'I can't sort it out for you. If I tried, it would get sorted out all wrong.'

'But - ' Juliet began.

'No, that's it,' said Glenda. 'Off you go, buy yourself lots of nice stuff�Cit's your money. And if you don't look after her, Mister Pepe, a knee would only be the start.'

Pepe nodded and very gently tugged Juliet away and down the stone steps.

Now what would I do at this point if I were in a romantic novel? Glenda said to herself as the footsteps died away. Her reading had left her pretty much an expert on what to do if you were in a romantic novel, although one of the things that really annoyed her about romantic novels, as she had confided to Mr Wobble, was that no one did any cooking in them. After all, cooking was important. Would it hurt to have a pie-making sequence? Would a novel called Pride and Buns be totally out of the question? Even a few tips on how to make fairy cakes would help, and be pretty much in period as well. She'd be a little happier if, even, the lovers could be thrown into the mixing bowl of life. At least it would be some acknowledgement that people actually ate food.

Around about now she knew, and knew all through her body, that she should be dissolving into a flood of tears. She started cleaning up the floor. Then she cleaned up the ovens. She always left them sparkling, but that was no reason not to clean them again. She used an old toothbrush to ease minute amounts of dirt from odd corners, scoured every pot with fine sand, emptied the grates, riddled the cinders, swept the floor, tied two brooms together to dislodge the spider's webs of years from the high wall, and scrubbed again until the soapy water poured down the stone stairs and washed away the footprints.

Oh, yes�Cand one other thing. There were some anchovies on the freezing slab. She warmed up a couple and went to the large three-legged cauldron in the corner of the kitchen where last night she had chalked the words 'Do Not Touch'. She took off the lid and peered into its depths. The crab that Verity Pushpram had given her last night, which seemed a very long time ago now, waved its eyeballs at her.

'I wonder what would have happened if I had left the lid off?' she said. 'I wonder how fast crabs learn?'

She dropped in the soggy anchovies, which seemed to meet with crabby approval. With that done, she stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked for something else to clean. The black iron would never shine, but every surface had been scrubbed and dried. As for the plates, you could eat your dinner off them. If you wanted a job done properly, you had to do it yourself. Juliet's version of cleanliness was next to godliness, which was to say it was erratic, past all understanding and was seldom seen.

Something brushed against her face. She absent-mindedly swiped at it and found her fingers holding a black feather. Those wretched things in the pipes. Someone ought to do something about them. She took her longest broom and banged on a pipe. 'Go on! Get out of there!' she yelled. There was a scuffling in the darkness and a faint 'Awk! Awk!'

' 'scuse me, miss,' said a voice, and she looked down the steps into the misshapen face of... What was his name? Oh, yes. 'Good morning, Mister Concrete,' she said to the troll. She couldn't help but notice the brown stains coming from his nose.

'Can't find Mister Trev,' Concrete stated.

'Haven't seen him all morning,' said Glenda.

'Can't find Mister Trev,' the troll repeated, louder.

'Why do you need him?' said Glenda. As far as she knew, the vats just about ran themselves. You told Concrete to dribble candles and he dribbled candles until he'd run out of candles.

'Mister Nutt sick,' said Concrete. 'Can't find Mister Trev.'

'Take me to Mister Nutt right now!' said Glenda.

It's a bit harsh to call anybody a denizen, but the people who lived and worked in the candle vats fitted the word to a T. The vats were, in fact, their den. If you ever saw them anywhere in the underground maze, they were always scuttling very fast, but most of the time they just worked and slept and stayed alive. Nutt was lying on an old mattress with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Glenda took one look and turned to the troll. 'Go and find Mister Trev,' she said.

'Can't find Mister Trev,' said the troll.

'Keep on looking!' She knelt down beside Nutt. His eyes had rolled back inside his head. 'Mister Nutt, can you hear me?'

He seemed to wake. 'You must go away,' he said. 'It will be very dangerous. The door will open.'

'What door is that?' she said, trying to remain cheerful. She looked at the denizens, who were watching her with a kind of meek horror. 'Can't one of you find something to put over him?' The mere question sent them scurrying in panic.

'I have seen the door, so it will open again,' said Nutt.

'I can't see any door, Mister Nutt,' said Glenda, looking around.

Nutt's eyes opened wide. 'It's in my head.'

There was no privacy to the vats; it was just a wider room off the long, endless corridor. People went past all the time.

'I think you may have been overdoing it, Mister Nutt,' said Glenda. 'You rush around working all hours, worrying yourself sick. You need a rest.' To her surprise, one of the denizens turned up holding a blanket, quite large parts of which were still flexible. She put it over him just as Trev arrived. He had no choice about arriving as Concrete was dragging him by the collar. He looked down at Nutt and then up at Glenda. 'What's happened to him?'

'I don't know.' She raised a finger to her head and swivelled it a little, the universal symbol for 'gone nuts'.

'You must go away. Things will be very dangerous,' Nutt moaned.

'Please tell us what is going on,' said Glenda. 'Please tell me.'

'I can't,' said Nutt. 'I cannot say the words.'

'There are words you want to say?' said Trev.

'Words that don't want to be said. Strong words.'

'Can't we help?' Glenda persevered.

'Are you sick?' said Trev.

'No, Mister Trev. I passed an adequate bowel motion this morning.' That was a flash of the old Nutt-precise, but slightly odd.

'Sick in the head?' said Glenda. That came out of desperation.

'Yes. In the head,' said Nutt. 'Shadows. Doors. Can't tell you.'

'Is there anyone who can cure that kind of sickness?'

Nutt didn't answer for a while and then said, 'Yes. You must find me a philosopher trained in Uberwald. They will help the thoughts come straight.'

'Isn't that what you did for Trev?' said Glenda. 'You told him what he was thinking about his dad and everything, and that made him a lot happier, didn't it, Trev?'

'Yes, it did,' said Trev. 'And there's no need to elbow me in the ribs like that. It really did help. Couldn't you be hypnotized?' he said to Nutt. 'I saw a man in the music hall once and he just waved his shiny watch at them and it's amazing the kind of things they did. Barked like dogs, even.'

'Yes. Hypnosis is an important part of the philosophy,' said Nutt. 'It helps to relax the patient so that the thoughts get a chance to be heard.'

'Well, there you are, then,' said Glenda. 'Why not try doing it on yourself? I'm sure I could find something shiny for you to wave.'

Trev pulled his beloved tin can out of his pocket. 'Tra-la. And I think I've got a piece of string here somewhere.'

'That is all very well, but I would not be able to ask myself the right kinds of questions because I will have been hypnotized. How the questions are posed is very important,' said Nutt.

'I know what,' said Trev. 'I'll tell you to ask yourself to ask the right questions. You'd know what questions to ask if it was someone else, wouldn't you?'

'Yes, Mister Trev.'

'You didn't need to hypnotize Trev,' Glenda pointed out.

'No, but his thoughts were close to the surface. I fear that mine will not be so easy to access.'

'Can you really be hypnotized to ask yourself the right questions?'

'In The Doors of Deception, Fussbinder did report on a way of hypnotizing himself,' said Nutt. 'It is conceivably possible... ' His voice trailed off.

'Then let's get on with it,' said Trev. 'Better out than in, as my old granny used to say.'

'I think perhaps that it is not such a good idea.'

'Didn't do me any harm,' said Trev robustly.

'The things that I do not know... The things that I do not know... ' muttered Nutt.

'What about them?' said Glenda.

'The things that I do not know... ' said Nutt, 'I think are behind the door, because I think I put them there because I think I do not want to know them.'

'So you must know what it is you don't want to know?' said Glenda.

'Yes.'

'Well, how bad could it be?' said Trev.

'Perhaps it is very bad,' said Nutt.

'What would you say if it was me?' said Glenda. 'I want the truth, now.'

'Well,' said Nutt, stuttering slightly, 'I think I would say that you should look behind the door to face the things that you do not want to know so we may confront them together. That would certainly be the advice of Von Kladpoll in Doppelte Ber��hrungssempfindung. Indeed, doing so would almost be a fundamental part of the analysis of the hidden mind.'

'Well then,' said Glenda, standing back.

'But what sort of bad things could possibly be in your head, Miss Glenda?' said Nutt, managing gallantry even in the fetid circumstances of the vats.

'Oh, there's a few,' said Glenda. 'You don't go through life without picking up a few.'

'I've had dreams in the night,' said Nutt.

'Oh, well, everyone has bad dreams,' said Glenda.

'These were more than dreams,' said Nutt. He unfolded his arms and held up a hand.

Trev whistled.

Glenda said, 'Oh,' and then, 'Should they be like that?'

'I have no idea,' said Nutt.

'Do they hurt?'

'No.'

'Well, maybe that sort of thing 'appens when goblins get a bit older,' said Trev.

'Yes, perhaps they need claws,' said Glenda.

'Yesterday was wonderful,' said Nutt. 'I was part of the team. The team were around me. I was happy. And now... '

Trev held up a piece of grubby string and the battered but shiny tin can. 'Perhaps you should find out?'

'I might be getting all this wrong,' said Glenda, 'but if you don't want to know what the things are that you don't want to know, then that means that there are going to be even more things that you don't want to know and I imagine that sooner or later, if that goes on, your head will cave in around the hole.'

'There is something in what both of you say,' said Nutt reluctantly.

'Then give me a hand to put him on the couch,' said Trev. 'Should he be covered in sweat like that?'

'I don't think so,' said Glenda.

'I would be happier if you chained me down,' said Nutt.

'What? Why do you think we should do that?' said Glenda.

'I think you should beware. Some things leak around the door. They may be bad.'

Glenda looked at the claws. They were a shiny black and, in their way, quite neat, but it was hard to imagine them being used for, say, painting a picture or cooking an omelette. They were claws, and claws were for clawing, weren't they? But this was Mr Nutt. Even with claws it was still Mr Nutt.

'Shall we get started?' said Trev.

'I insist on the chains,' said Nutt. 'There are all sorts of metal things in the old storeroom four doors down. I saw chains there. Please hurry.'

Automatically Glenda looked down at the claws and saw they had grown longer. 'Yes, Trev, please hurry.'

Trev followed her gaze and said brightly, 'I'll be back before you know I've gone.'

In fact, it was less than a couple of minutes, and she could hear the clanking as he dragged them all the way down the passageway.

Glenda was fighting tears at the simple strangeness of the whole business. Nutt lay there, looking at the ceiling, as they lifted him on to the couch and carefully wrapped the chains around him.

'There's padlocks, but there's no keys. I can close them, but I can't open them.'

'Close them,' said Nutt.

Glenda had very seldom cried, and she was trying not to now. 'I don't think we should be doing this,' she said. 'Not here in the vats. People are watching.'

'Please swing your pendulum, Mister Trev,' said Nutt.

Trev shrugged and did so.

'Now you have to start telling me that I am feeling sleepy, Mister Trev,' said Nutt.

Trev cleared his throat and swung the shiny can back and forth. 'You are definitely feelin' sleepy. Extremely sleepy.'

'That is good. I am feeling enormously sleepy,' said Nutt wearily. 'And now you must ask me to analyse myself.'

'What does that mean?' said Glenda sharply, always on the lookout for dangerous words.

'I'm sorry,' said Nutt. 'I mean, help me examine in detail the workings of my own mind by means of question and answer.'

'But I don't know the questions to ask,' said Trev.

'I do,' said Nutt patiently, 'but you must instruct me to do it.'

Trev shrugged. 'Mister Nutt, you must find out what is wrong with Mister Nutt,' he said.

'Ah yes,' said Nutt, his tone of voice changing slightly. 'Are ve comfortable, Mister Nutt? Yes, thank you. The chains hardly chafe at all. Verrry good. Now, tell me about your mother, Mister Nutt. I am familiar with the concept, but I never had a mother as I recall. Thank you for asking anyway,' said Nutt.

And so the monological dialogue began. The other two sat on the stone steps as the quiet voice unravelled itself until: 'Ah yes, ze library. Is zere something in ze library, Mister Nutt?'

'There are many books in the library.'

'What else is in ze library, Mister Nutt?'

'There are many chairs and ladders in the library.'

'And what is in ze library zat you do not want to tell me about, Mister Nutt?'

They waited. At last, the voice said, 'There's a cupboard in the library.'

'Is zere anything special about zis cupboard, Mister Nutt?'

Another pause, another faint little voice: 'I must not open the cupboard.'

'Why is half of him talking like someone from Uberwald?' said Glenda to Trev, forgetting the notoriously acute sense of hearing.

'Questions asked in a mild Uberwaldian accent in examinations of zis nature appear to put ze patient more at ease,' said Nutt. 'And now I would be pleased if you would not make wiz ze interruptions.'

'Sorry,' said Glenda.

'Don't mention it. So, why must you not open ze cupboard, Mister Nutt?'

'Because I promised Ladyship that I would not open the cupboard.'

'And did you open ze cupboard, Mister Nutt?'

'I promised Ladyship that I would not open the cupboard.'

'And did you open ze cupboard, Mister Nutt?'

A much longer pause this time. 'I promised Ladyship that I would not open the cupboard.'

'Did you learn many things in ze castle, Mister Nutt?'

'Many things.'

'Did you learn how to make ze lockpicks, Mister Nutt?'

'Yes.'

'Where is ze door now, Mister Nutt?'

'It is in front of me.'

'You opened ze door, Mister Nutt. You think you did not, but you did. And now it is very important zat you open ze door again.'

'But what is inside the door is wrong!'

The two eavesdroppers craned to hear.

'Nothing is wronk. Nothing is wronk at all. In ze past, you opened ze door in the foolishness of chilthood. Now, to understand ze door, you must open it with ze wisdom of ze adult. Open ze door, Mister Nutt, and I will walk with you to it.'

'But I no longer have the lockpick.'

'Nature will provide, Mister Nutt.'

Glenda shivered. It had to be her imagination, but they didn't seem to be in the candle vats any more.

A corridor stretched in front of Nutt. He felt everything drop away from him. Chains, clothes, flesh, thoughts. All there was was the corridor and, drifting gently towards him, the cupboard. It was glass-fronted. Light glinted off the bevelled edges. He raised a hand and extended the claw. It cut through wood and glass as if they were air. There was one shelf in the cupboard and one book on the shelf. There was a title on it in silver and chains around it in steel. These were much easier to break through than last time as well. He sat down on a chair that had not been there until he sat down and he began to read the book. The book was called ORC.

When the scream came, it didn't come from Nutt, but from overhead in the tangle of pipes. A skinny woman in a long black robe, perhaps a witch, Glenda thought, shocked by the suddenness, dropped down on to the flagstones and looked around like a cat.

No, more like a bird, Glenda thought. Jerky.

And then it opened its mouth and screamed: 'Awk! Awk! Danger! Danger! Beware! Beware!' It made a lunge towards the couch, but Trev stepped in the way. 'Foolish! The orc will eat your eyes!'

And now this was a duet, because another of the creatures had slid down out of the gloom on what might have been a billowing cloak, or might have been wings. They never stopped moving, each in a different direction, trying to get closer to the couch.

'Do not be afraaaid,' squawked one of them, 'we are on your siiide. We are here to protect you.'

Glenda, trembling in shock, managed to stand up. She folded her arms. She always felt better like that. 'Who do you think you are�Cdropping out of the ceiling and shouting at people? And you're shedding feathers. That's disgusting. This is a - this is quite near a food-preparation area.'

'Yeah, push off,' said Trev.

'That's telling them,' said Glenda out of the corner of her mouth. 'I bet that took a lot of thinking.'

'You do not understand,' said a creature. The faces really were strange, as if someone had made a bird out of a woman. 'You are in great danger! Awk!'

'From you?' said Glenda.

'From the orc,' said the creature. And the word was a scream. 'Awk!'

In the shadows in front of the open cupboard the soul of Nutt turned a page. He felt someone at his elbow and looked up into the face of Ladyship.

'Why did you tell me not to open the book, Ladyship?'

'Because I wanted you to read it,' said her voice. 'You had to find the truth for yourself. That is how we all find the truth.'

'And if the truth is terrible?'

'I think you know the answer to that one, Nutt,' said the voice of Ladyship.

'The answer is that, terrible or not, it is still the truth,' said Nutt.

'And then?' said her voice, like a teacher encouraging a promising pupil.

'And then the truth can be changed,' said Nutt.

'Mister Nutt is a goblin,' said Trev.

'Yeah, right,' said the creature. And the phrase seemed incredibly exotic for someone whose face was looking more birdlike all the time.

'If I scream, a lot of people will come running,' said Glenda.

'And what will they do?' said the creature.

And what would they do? Glenda thought. They would stand around saying 'What's all this then?' and asking all the same questions we are. She shuffled again as one of the things tried to get to the couch.

'The orc will kill,' said a third voice, and another of the things dropped down almost in front of Glenda's face. Its breath was like carrion.

'Mister Nutt is kind and gentle and has never hurt anyone,' said Glenda.

'Who didn't deserve it,' said Trev hurriedly.

'But now the orc knows it is an orc,' said a creature. And now they were milling backwards and forwards in a ghastly pavane.

'I don't think you're allowed to touch us,' said Trev. 'I really don't think you can touch us.'

He sat down suddenly beside the recumbent Nutt and dragged Glenda down next to him. 'I think you 'ave to obey rules,' said Trev. The moving figures stopped instantly. That was somehow creepier than their movement. They stood there as frozen as statues.

'They've got talons,' said Glenda, quietly. 'I can see their talons.'

'Pounces,' said Trev.

'What're you talking about?'

'Those big claws are called pounces. The ones at the back are called talons�Cthe ones they carry the prey off with. Everyone gets that wrong.'

'Except you,' said Glenda. 'You're like the big expert on horrible birdlike creatures all of a sudden.'

'I can't help it. Sometimes you just pick stuff up,' said Trev.

'We must protect you,' said one of the females.

'We don't need protecting from Mister Nutt! He's our friend,' said Glenda.

'And how many of your friends have claws?'

'What have we got to worry about here, in Unseen University, which has got great big thick walls and is pretty much generally crawling with wizards?'

One of the women stretched her neck until her face was a few inches from Trev's. 'There is an orc in here with you.'

There was a clink of chain. Nutt had moved slightly.

'You work for somebody, don't you?' said Trev. 'You've got tiny little heads. You can't 'ave enough brains to think this up for yourself. Do the wizards know you're here?'

Glenda screamed. She had never screamed before, not in a proper way, straight up from the bottom of her terror. Cutting her finger while using the knife carelessly didn't count and almost certainly would never have been so loud. The scream echoed along the passages, bounced into the cellars and made the undercrofts ring.

Glenda screamed a second time and, as her lungs had got into practice, she managed to make this one even louder. There were hurrying footsteps from both directions.

That was reassuring.

She was not certain how reassuring was the little clink and sliding of metal that suggested a chain had broken.

The creatures went into an instant panic, trying to take wing at once. They were as clumsy as herons and got in one another's way.

'And don't come back!' she yelled as they disappeared back into the dark. Then she turned to Trev, her heart thumping, and said, 'What is an orc?'

'I dunno. I think it's some kind of old bogey man,' said Trev.

'And what were those things?'

'I know it sounds silly,' said Trev, 'but we saw one of them the other night, and he seems to think they're, like... friends.'

Butchers, bakers, butlers and bledlows came hurrying out of the dark corridors and one of them was Bledlow Nobbs (no relation), who was inexplicably wearing just his official hat, a string vest and a pair of shorts, far too short and far too tight for a man the size of Bledlow Nobbs (no relation).

He looked at Glenda and then glared at Trev. People like Trev were, as far as Bledlow Nobbs (no relation) was concerned, an automatic enemy. 'Did you scream? What's been going on?' he said.

'I'm sorry, I made an improper suggestion,' Trev said. He looked at Glenda, his expression saying, 'Help me out here.'

'I'm afraid I let my girlish modesty get the better of me,' she said, cursing him with her eyes.

'It must have been a pretty strange suggestion,' said a baker, who seemed to think that an extremely long loaf would have been a suitable aid to combat, but he was grinning�Cand grinning was good.

If this ends up with no more than sniggering and grinning then we'll all be happy, Glenda thought. Hard to live down afterwards, but still good.

'But what's that bloke chained to that bed for?' said the bledlow.

'Yeah, what kind of improper suggestions go on around here?' said the baker. He really was having fun.

I am going to kill someone before the end of all this and it might just have to be myself, thought Glenda.

'Isn't that Mister Nutt?' said the bledlow. 'We're supposed to be in training in five minutes.'

There was another clink behind Glenda and Nutt's voice said, 'Don't worry, Alphonse, I often do this trick. Dynamic tension you know, helps build up the muscles.'

'Alphonse?' said the baker, looking incredulously at the bledlow. 'I thought your name was Alfred, Alf for short. Alphonse is a Quirmian name if ever I've heard one. You're not from there, are you?' That was an accusation as much as a question.

'What's wrong with Alf being short for Alphonse?' said the bledlow. He had very large hands that might have troubled even Mustrum Ridcully in a game of pat-a-cake. Also, his ears were going red, never a good sign in a man of his size.

'Oh, I never said it wasn't a nice name,' said the baker, belatedly using his loaf. 'But I would never have figured you for an Alphonse. It just goes to show that you never can tell.'

'I am an orc,' said Nutt quietly.

'Actually, Alphonse is quite a nice name,' the baker went on. 'The phonse spoils it a bit, but the Alf I quite like.' He paused and turned to Nutt. 'What do you mean, "orc"?'

'An orc,' said Nutt again.

And away in the distant central heating pipes there was a scream of 'Awk! Awk!'

'Don't be daft, there's no such thing as orcs any more. They all got killed off hundreds of years ago. Bloody hard to kill, too, I read somewhere,' said a butler.

'In the latter part of your statement you are substantially correct,' said Nutt, still chained to the couch. 'However, nevertheless, I am an orc.'

Glenda looked down. 'You told me you're a goblin, Mister Nutt. You told me you're a goblin.'

'I was misinformed,' said Nutt. 'I know I am an orc. I think I have always known that I am an orc. I have opened the door and read the book and I know the truth of my soul and I am an orc, and for some reason I am an orc with a terrible urge to smoke a cigar.'

'But they were like these big horrible monsters that wouldn't stop fighting and were quite happy to tear off their own arm to use as a weapon,' said Bledlow Nobbs (no relation). 'There was an article about them in Bows & Ammo.'

Every eye turned to Nutt's arms. 'Certainly that is the judgement of history,' said Nutt. He looked up at Glenda. 'I am so sorry,' he said. 'I disobeyed, everybody does it, you see. Schnouzentintle says as much in his book The Obedience of Disobedience. So I wondered what was in the cupboard. And I already had some expertise with lockpicks. I opened the cupboard, I read the book and... 'His chains clinked as he shifted position. 'I disobeyed. I think everybody does it. We are very good at hiding from ourselves what we do not want to know. Believe me; I was very good at keeping that from myself. But it leaks out, you see, in dreams and things when you have dropped your guard. I am an orc. There is no doubt about that.'

'Okay, right, if you are an orc, right, then why are you not tearing my head off?' said Bledlow Nobbs (no relation).

'Would you like me to?' said Nutt.

'Well, as it happens, no!'

'Who cares?' said Trev. 'It's all ancient history anyway. These days you see vampires hangin' around all over the place. An' we've got trolls and golems and zombies and all kinds of people just graftin' away. Who cares what 'appened 'undreds of years ago?'

'Hang on a minute. Hang on a minute,' said the butler. 'He's not tearing your head off 'cos he's chained down.'

'So, why did you get us to chain you down?' said Glenda.

'So I wouldn't tear off anybody's head. I suspected the truth, although I didn't know what it was that I suspected. At least, I think it works like that.'

'So that means you can't escape and tear us all limb from limb,' said Bledlow Nobbs (no relation). 'No offence meant, but does this mean you won't be training us?'

'I am sorry,' said Nutt, 'but as you can see, I'm rather inconvenienced.'

'Have you all gone loony?' Astonishingly, this came from Juliet, standing in the corridor. 'He's Nutt. He potters around making candles and stuff. I see 'im around all the time and 'e's never 'olding someone else's leg or head. And 'e likes his football, too!'

Glenda thought she could actually hear Trev's heartbeat. She hurried over to the girl. 'I told you to go,' she hissed.

'I've come back to tell Trev about everythin'. After all, he did write such a lovely poem.'

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