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to…’appen,’ said Nutt, concentrating.
    ‘I never seen why people make such a to-do,’ said Trev generously. ‘So there were all those big battles? So what? It was a long time ago and a long way away, right, an’ it’s not like the trolls and dwarfs weren’t as bad as you lot, ain’t I right? I mean, goblins? What was that all about? You lot jus’ cut throats and nicked stuff, right? That’s practically civilized in some streets round here.’
    Probably, Nutt thought. No one could have been neutral when the Dark War had engulfed Far Uberwald. Maybe there had been true evil there, but apparently the evil was, oddly enough, always on the other side. Perhaps it was contagious. Somehow, in all the confusing histories that had been sung or written, the goblins were down as nasty cowardly little bastards who collected their own earwax and were always on the other side. Alas, when the time came to write their story down, his people hadn’t even had a pencil.
    Smile at people. Like them. Be helpful. Accumulate worth . He liked Trev. He was good at liking people. When you clearly liked people, they were slightly more inclined to like you. Every little helped.
    Trev, though, seemed genuinely unfussed about history, and had recognized that having someone in the vats who not only did not try to eat the tallow but also did most of his work for him and, at that, did it better than he could be bothered to do it himself, was an asset worth protecting. Besides, he was congenially lazy, except when it came to foot-the-ball, and bigotry took too much effort. Trev never made too much effort. Trev went through life on primrose paths.
    ‘Master Smeems came looking for you,’ said Nutt. ‘I sorted it all out.’
    ‘Ta,’ said Trev, and that was that. No questions. He liked Trev.
    But the boy was standing there, just staring at him, as if trying to work him out.
    ‘Tell you what,’ Trev said. ‘Come on up to the Night Kitchen and we’ll scrounge breakfast, okay?’
    ‘Oh no, Mister Trev,’ said Nutt, almost dropping a candle. ‘I don’t think, sorry, fink, I ought to.’
    ‘Come on, who’s going to know? And there’s a fat girl up there who cooks great stuff. Best food you ever tasted.’
    Nutt hesitated. Always agree, always be helpful, always be becoming, never frighten anyone.
    ‘I fink I will come with you,’ he said.

    There’s a lot to be said for scrubbing a frying pan until you can see your face in it, especially if you’ve been entertaining ideas of gently tapping someone on the head with it. Glenda was not in the mood for Trev when he came up the stone steps, kissed her on the back of the neck and said cheerfully, ‘ ’ullo, darlin’, what’s hot tonight?’
    ‘Nothing for the likes of you, Trevor Likely,’ she said, batting him away with the pan, ‘and you can keep your hands to yourself, thank you!’
    ‘Not bin keeping somethin’ warm for your best man?’
    Glenda sighed. ‘There’s bubble and squeak in the warming oven and don’t say a word if anyone catches you,’ she said.
    ‘Just the job for a man who’s bin workin’ like a slave all night!’ said Trev, patting her far too familiarly and heading for the ovens.
    ‘You’ve been at the football!’ snapped Glenda. ‘You’re always at the football! And what kind of working do you call that?’
    The boy laughed, and she glared at his companion, who backed away quickly as though from armour-piercing eyes.
    ‘And you boys ought to wash before you come up here,’ she went on, glad of a target that didn’t grin and blow kisses at her. ‘This is a food-preparation area!’
    Nutt swallowed. This was the longest conversation he’d ever had with a female apart from Ladyship and Miss Healstether and he hadn’t even said anything.
    ‘I assure you, I bath regularly,’ he protested.
    ‘But you’re grey!’
    ‘Well, some people are black and some people are white,’ said Nutt, almost in tears. Oh, why had he, why had he left the vats?