Soul Music by Terry Pratchett

colour in a map. This involved a lot of green. Lunch was Dead Man’s Fingers and Eyeball Pudding, a healthy ballast for the afternoon’s occupation, which was Sport.
    This was the province of Iron Lily, who was rumoured to shave and lift weights with her teeth, and whose shouts of encouragement as she thundered up and down the touchline tended towards the nature of ‘Get some ball, you bunch of soft nellies!’
    Miss Butts and Miss Delcross kept their windows closed on games afternoon. Miss Butts ferociously read logic and Miss Delcross, in her idea of a toga, practised eurhythmics in the gym.
    Susan surprised people by being good at sport. Some sport, anyway. Hockey, lacrosse and rounders, certainly. Any game that involved putting a stick of some sort in her hands and asking her to swing it, definitely. The sight of Susan advancing towards goal with a calculating look made any goalie lose all faith in her protective padding and throw herself flat as the ball flashed past at waist height, making a humming noise.
    It was only evidence of the general stupidity of the rest of humanity, Susan considered, that although she was manifestly one of the best players in the school she never got picked for teams. Even fat girls with spots got picked before her. It was so infuriatingly unreasonable, and she could never understand why.
    She’d explained to other girls how good she was, and demonstrated her skill, and pointed out just how stupid they were in not picking her. For some exasperating reason it didn’t seem to have any effect.
    This afternoon she went for an official walk instead. This was an acceptable alternative, provided girls went in company. Usually they went into town and bought stale fish and chips from an unfragrant shop in Three Roses Alley; fried food was considered unhealthy by Miss Butts, and therefore bought out of school at every opportunity.
    Girls had to walk in groups of three or more. Peril, in Miss Butts’s conjectural experience, couldn’t happen to units of more than two.
    In any case it was certainly unlikely to happen to any group that contained Princess Jade and Gloria Thogsdaughter.
    The school’s owners had been a bit bothered about taking a troll, but Jade’s father was king of an entire mountain and it always looked good to have royalty on the roll. And besides, Miss Butts had remarked to Miss Delcross, it’s our duty to encourage them if they show any inclination to become real people and the King is actually quite charming and assures me he can’t even remember when he last ate anyone. Jade had bad eyesight, a note excusing her from unnecessary sunshine, and knitting chain mail in handicraft class.
    Whereas Gloria was banned from sport because of her tendency to use her axe in a threatening manner. Miss Butts had suggested that an axe wasn’t a ladylike weapon, even for a dwarf, but Gloria had pointed out that, on the contrary, it had been left to her by her grandmother who had owned it all her life and polished it every Saturday, even if she hadn’t used it at all that week. There was something about the way she gripped it that made even Miss Butts give in. To show willing, Gloria left off her iron helmet and, while not shaving off her beard – there was no actual rule about girls not having beards a foot long – at least plaited it. And tied it in ribbons in the school colours.
    Susan felt strangely at home in their company, and this had earned guarded praise from Miss Butts. It was nice of her to be such a chum, she said. Susan had been surprised. It had never occurred to her that anyone actually said a word like chum.
    The three of them trailed back along the beech drive by the playing field.
    â€˜I don’t understand sport,’ said Gloria, watching the gaggle of panting young women stampeding across the pitch.
    â€˜There’s a troll game,’ said Jade. ‘It’s called aargrooha .’
    â€˜How’s it