Archive of Our Own

William flipped through his notebook and frowned; nothing he wrote tonight was working. The ballroom of the Monflathers-mansion was filled with guests; everyone of Ankh-Morpork’s upper crust were there, forging connections, sweeping over the dancefloor and getting progressively drunker by the hour.

The Times had been invited too, but they weren’t really guests per se. They were working; reporting on the grand occasion of Lord Monflathers’ birthday celebration. Making notes of who were there, taking pictures of the guests’ new expensive clothes, the enormous birthday-cake and any other details.¹

Reporting on social gatherings in high society wasn’t really William’s forte. Sacharissa was capable of actually making something somewhat interesting out of the long list of names of guests and upper-class gossip, but when William tried, it all turned out so very dull. It was likely his own inner bias showing; it just didn’t feel very important. But it sold, for some reason, and so they were here tonight. All three of them.

When any invitations arrived, they were addressed to ‘The Ankh-Morpork Times’, so in theory, anyone could go, but William would rather stay at the office than mingle with the upper crust. He had been to enough of these occasions growing up to last a life-time. But in the end, he had tagged along, with some vague idea that it might be useful to step outside his comfort-zone a little and write something different. Now, at the ball, with the music too loud, the guests too drunk, their perfumes too strong, he was starting to regret it.

Sacharissa appeared beside him, balancing a plate with a pie-slice in one hand and her notebook and pen in the other.

“How are you doing?”

“Not too good,” William admitted. “It’s just a list of names right now. It sells, I know, but I wish I could get more of a story out of it.”

“Well, I got pages and pages of gossip,” Sacharissa said. “We can put our notes together when we get back to the office and make something useful. Have you tried the dessert table? There are some lovely muffins, as long as you avoid the morpork feathers.”

“We are working, Rissa.”

“We don’t need to be on the clock all the time. As long as there’s an article in the paper, Lord Monflathers will be satisfied. We can have some fun.” She looked out over the ballroom. “We could put our notebooks down and dance?”

Sacharissa smiled. William looked from her to the guests waltzing over the dancefloor. The music was slowly dying down, and soon new couples could find their place for the next dance. William’s mouth felt dry as he tried to find the right words to say.

A very familiar scream pierced the air. Several guests turned to see what was happening.

“I’ll go and help Otto.” William said, grateful for the convenient distraction. “You go ahead and try all the cakes.”

Otto was corporal when William found him, but the pieces of smashed glass on the floor told him that the vampire had been a pile of dust just seconds before. Around him, a group of guests were staring with wide eyes.

“Are you alright, Otto?” William asked.

“Everyzink is fine, Villiam. I vas takink a picture of zese guests, and zere vas a minor miscalculation viz zer flash.” Otto smiled at the stunned crowd around them. “I do apologize, ladies and gentlemen. Shall ve try again?”

There was a chorus of ‘oh no’, ‘no need’ and ‘you know what, I think I need another drink or three’ as the crowd disbursed.

Otto shook his head. “Oh vell. If zey do not vant zeir picture in zer paper, zat is zeir choice.”

William rummaged in his pocket. Both he and Sacharissa had gotten into the habit of carrying an extra vial of animal-blood around, to resupply their vampire in case of unforeseen dustings. “Here,” he said, handing it to Otto. “I only brought one, so be careful.”

Otto fastened the vial on a string, and hung it around his neck. “Zank you, darlink.” He gave Villiam a brief kiss on his cheek, before continuing to search the room for anything that would make a good picture.

Despite how cool Otto’s lips were, William’s cheeks were burning. It was almost three months since they’d made their engagement public, and even if the talking had died down somewhat and most of the people of Ankh-Morpork seemed to at least tolerate their relationship ... they kept staring. William had never been very good with public affection, even in a relationship people deemed more ‘normal’. It had just been him and Sacharissa for a little while, before Otto had joined them, and even back then, being affectionate in public as a ‘normal human couple’ had been slightly embarrassing. Lovely, thrilling, warm, yes ... but embarrassing nonetheless.

Someone snickered. William turned to see Dedric Silverspoon theatrically whispering with two of the Dollarworth-sisters. Another thing he disliked with such parties was just how so many of the guests he’d known since childhood. Most of them had been spoiled twits, just like William had been, but unlike William, who’d at least tried to change, these old acquaintances had stayed mostly the same; insufferable.

On the dancefloor, the new melody had begun. Lord Monflathers’ son was dancing with a young Venturi-girl, and they were staring deep into each other’s eyes. Old Lord Vandermight was trying to keep in step with his eyes glued to his partner’s impressively low neckline. Even the Duchess of Ankh had managed to drag her husband into a dance. William spotted Sacharissa by the drinks table, taking notes as she talked with Lady Selachii. Her feet were tapping the rhythm of the music.

She wanted to dance. William should ask her for the next dance. Instead, he went to find Otto.

They had returned to her when the song ended, and Otto gave his iconograph to William, before he bowed and asked if ‘zer most beautiful lady in zer castle vould honor him viz a dance’. Sacharissa giggled and accepted, and when the music started up again William was balancing the iconograph alongside Sacharissa’s purse. It was a true sign of faith that Otto had entrusted it to him; he rarely let anyone touch any of his work equipment.

Otto and Sacharissa made the dancefloor their home. Otto lifted Sacharissa up in the air as they spun around, dipped her so low her hair almost brushed the floor, and then fell back into the rhythm once again.

William watched them. He wasn’t jealous. If he had been, which one of them should he be jealous of? He loved both Otto and Sacharissa, and they loved each other. Their relationship was a closed circle, not an angle with William at the vertex. But occasionally, he could see why partnerships of two really were the norm; on the dancefloor, everyone was in pairs. There was no room for anyone else, and between the three of them, it was obvious who should sit it out. At least it was a beautiful view to look at.

William could have watched them forever, hadn’t some guests mistaken him for an actual iconographer and demanded their pictures taken.²

Working together, they did manage to make an actual article with illustrative iconographs out of the evening. The readers could keep up to date on social gossip, the upper crust could preen about getting their name in the paper, the edition sold and money came in.

Everyone was satisfied.

Which, of course, meant they were invited again to yet more celebrations, balls or whatever other occasions Ankh-Morpork’s high society would make up to eat, drink and show off to their neighbours.

William stayed at the office the first time, working through several articles on how the drought on the Sto Plains were affecting the supply of cabbage, the series of unlicenced thieveries in Brookless Lane, and the recent developments in the Alchemist’s guild.³ There was just so much to do, and Sacharissa and Otto could handle things just fine without him. They asked him to join them the next time, so when the invitation to the welcome home party of Lord Castlebridge’s son arrived, he came along. Otto asked him for a dance this time, and William barely managed to wriggle out of it by suddenly noticing a very important news story on the other side of the room.

Of course, there was no such thing, unless one counted Lady Silverspoon showing of her new pet morpork⁴ as news. It seemed like Otto had seen right through it, because he didn’t ask him to dance again that evening, or any of the events they attended the following months. It was easier to avoid it with Sacharissa, because normally, it was the man asking the woman to dance. Sacharissa had loosened up considerably about what was and wasn’t proper, but some things were still traditional. She’d just kept on hinting, and William could play oblivious.

After a while, William managed to develop quite a good pattern: they always asked him, so he’d come along every third time. He was fine with not going every time, there was so much to do, really it was fine. If either Otto or Sacharissa seemed inclined to dance, he’d encourage the two of them to get out on the floor together, he was fine staying on the job and looking after their things, it was fine.

Everything was all just fine.

Until the evening they came home to their flat and his lovers asked him to sit down, because ‘we need to talk.’⁵

William sat down at the foot of the bed, watching with increasing apprehension as Sacharissa and Otto seemed to have some sort of silent dialog with gestures. Apparently, neither of them wanted to start the actual conversation.

Then, Sacharissa decided to take the plunge. “William, we need to talk.”

“Alright ...?” William said. When nothing more came, he continued: “What do you want to talk about?”

“These last months, we’ve noticed more and more – that you, well ...” Sacharissa gestured in the air, searching for the words before she looked to Otto for help.

“Ve vonder if somezink is botherink you?”

Right now, what was bothering William was this whole situation, the two of them had clearly been talking without him, about him, and concluded he’d done something wrong. He probably had, he made plenty of mistakes, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it could be this time, to warrant any ‘we need to talk’-moment.

“It seems ... like you do not vant to be out in public viz us? You rarely come along viz us, and vhen you do ... it is like you vant to avoid us? You push zer tvo of us together and go off on your ovn.” Otto swallowed. He sat down beside him on the bed, taking his hand. “Villiam, ve love you.”

Sacharissa sat down on his other side, mirroring Otto. “We both do. I love Otto, and I love you.”

Otto nodded. “I love you just as much as Sacharissa, Villiam.”

“We don’t want you to – to try and step aside for us, if that is what you-” Once again, Sacharissa seemed to struggle finding the right words. She looked worried, like this was some sort of balancing act where she might stumble any second.

William looked from one to the other. Clearly, he had missed a few steps here. “... what?”

“Or – or – is it that you’re having second thoughts?” Sacharissa’s hands squeezed his.

“Ve knov you are not as comfortable viz beink - beink open about zis.” Otto said. “Ve knov it bothers you vhen people stare.”

“We don’t want you to be uncomfortable-”

“And I knov you said you are not ashamed, but-”

“Oh nooo ...” William pulled back his hands from theirs so he could put his head in them. Neither Sacharissa or Otto said anything, but he could feel their worried stares as they waited for him to continue.

“I’ve messed up, haven’t I?” William sighed. “I didn’t say anything, so you made your own conclusions. And then I pushed the two of you together so you could both worry and work each other up about this.” He looked up, to see their now slightly guilty expressions. Yes, they had clearly been running through several unpleasant scenarios of what was actually going on. “I’m so sorry.”

“Vot is vrong?” Otto asked. “Did- did ve do somethink? Did I-”

“No! No, you’re perfect! You’re wonderful, both of you are! It’s me being an idiot.”

“So ... you ...”

“I love you! I want to marry you; I’m not breaking anything off! Just – just banish the thought.”

The tension went out of both his lovers and the room. Otto’s shoulders relaxed and Sacharissa finally breathed fully out. They both hugged him, pulling him back so they all lay down on the bed.

“Apologies, ve vorried.” Otto muttered into William’s shoulder.

Sacharissa stroked his hair. “But something is bothering you, isn’t it?”

“It’s no big deal.” William said. It felt stupid, especially now, when he realised how it had looked to them. He hadn’t been nearly as discreet as he’d thought he’d been. “It – it’s just ... I’m no good at dancing.”

They both stared at him. “... is that all?” Sacharissa asked.

“That is all. I – I was embarrassed about it, so I didn’t say anything. Sorry.”

“That’s why you never took any of my hints, then.”

“Yes.”

“I thought ... with your family background, I guess I just assumed you were used to ...”

“Well, I’m not.” William sighed. “I was never any good at it. My father kept making me take dancing lessons, because ‘that’s what you’re supposed to do’, but it never stuck. Mr Tap-Hittitap could never get me to remember the steps, Mr Ninestep said I was stiff as a board, and I just gained a lot bruises from Miss Wrinkletoe smacking me for being out of rhythm. If my family hosted anything, I kept stepping on people’s feet. Luckily for me, my family focused on Rupert, since he was the heir. In the end father gave up on it and started ignoring me instead. The lessons stopped, and I could sneak away with a book during parties and no one missed me.”

Silence stretched in the room. Judging by how they both hugged him tighter, William suspected they were both sad on his behalf. Either that, or silently making plans to travel to Lord de Worde’s house and break his nose. That was often the reaction whenever he opened up about his childhood.

“So, Villiam, I have some questions,” Otto said, breaking the silence. “Are you fine viz hov zer situation is nov?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you vant to come viz us vhen zer Times get invitations, or do you really vant to stay at home?”

“Eh-”

“No pressure.” Sacharissa added. “Just, what makes you the most comfortable.”

William looked up at the cracked ceiling, thinking it over. “I don’t ... mind, every now and then. It can be a bit boring, but it is good to get out there, to know what is going on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. So long as you don’t get mad when I say no.” He instantly regretted saying the words once he’d said them. It sounded so childish, and made Sacharissa look so upset.

“Never! Never, William, we’ve never been- You can always do whatever you feel is right.” She kissed his cheek. “But I do hope you’ll show up to our wedding.”

William laughed. “Wouldn’t miss that for anything. But I’ll have to leave the wedding waltz to you two.”

“Zat leads me to my next question.” Otto said. “Do you vant to learn to dance?”

William turned to look at him. “I’m no good at it, Otto, I just told you.”

“You had bad teachers and bad experiences, so it is no vonder you do not enjoy it. But if you vant to learn, you can. Ve can teach you.” Otto shrugged. “And if you do not ever vant to dance, zat is fine too.”

Sacharissa nodded. “We are not going to punish you if you mess up.”

“No, but everyone will be looking at me. They’ll see how I fail at it.”

“Ve are not startink any lessons on a crovded ballroom-floor.” Otto said. “If you vant, ve can practice here in our flat.”

William thought about it. He thought about the stiff, uncomfortable dances with girls from other ‘good families’. Mr Ninestep’s complaints that he seemed to have two left feet. And then, an image came to mind; how Otto and Sacharissa had spun around on the dancefloor that evening at Monflathers’ ball. They had seemed so happy; it had actually looked ... fun.

He looked from one to the other; they lay patiently beside him, waiting for whatever answer he wanted to give. “I should apologise in advance,” William said. “I’m going to step on your toes.”

“William, eyes up. Look at my face.”

“But then I can’t see my feet.”

“It’s the feet you’re watching?” Sacharissa said with a grin. “And here I thought you were hypnotised by my breasts.”

“Wha- no!” William blushed, and stopped moving, looking up from the floor. “Does it look like that?”

“Nov, Villiam, do not be so hard on yourself,” Otto said, smiling. “She does have a vonderful bosom.”

William grabbed a pillow from the bed and tossed it at the vampire. Otto laughed and dodged it easily.

They were taking small steps, both literally and figuratively. The waltz was considered one of the easiest dances to learn; the basics were only four steps, going slowly. They’d moved some of their furniture, but their flat had never had much room to start with.

“Let’s try again.” Sacharissa said, taking William’s right hand and placing it on her back, keeping a firm grip on the other hand. “Take the left foot and put it forward ... now to the side with the right foot, and follow with the left to close. Good! Now, you go backward and I forward, start with the right one this time ...”

Going backward, William bumped into the table, but managed to follow Sacharissa’s lead.⁶ It was stiff, and hesitant, but as long as she said the steps, he managed to do it. But once she stopped, the panic set in, and right and left got mixed up at once. She went back to saying the steps out loud, letting him join in, before she lowered her voice again, leaving him to mutter the steps under his breath.

“If it is difficult to remember vhen right or left comes, you can try to imagine a box,” Otto said. He was sitting on the bed, watching them. “You are dravink a box viz your feet, as if you got paint under your shoes.”

William tried to visualise it. Left foot forward, right foot to the side, close the feet together again. Then one step back, one to the side – right into the chair – close the feet and back to the beginning again.

“William, eyes up.”

“Oh, oh, sorry. Forward, right, close. Backward, left, close. Forward, right- ouch!”

“It’s alright, it’s just the bed, keep going- ow!”

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t worry, my feet can handle it, let’s continue ...”

It took about five more steps before they had managed to waltz themselves into the wardrobe. Sacharissa let go of William’s hand to rub the back of her head. “We could perhaps use some more space.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault our flat is small.” Sacharissa frowned. “We could really need some music too, perhaps that could help getting into the flow of the thing.”

William flopped down on the bed next to Otto. “I’m not ready to go dancing at any sort of party.”

“We don’t need to; we’ll figure it out somehow.”

Otto’s face lit up with a sharp-toothed smile. “I zink I have an idea.”

The cellar room in Abattoirs Lane was dark. No windows let in the sunlight, and the members had turned off most of the lamps when they’d left their last meeting. The background music of a depressing symphony did not help the atmosphere. A young woman with freckles and curly hair was trying out melodies on the harmonium in the corner. She looked up when she heard them enter, stopped playing her gloomy tune and rose from her chair.

“Otto! You’re right on time!”

“Good evenink, Miss Octavia. Zank you for helping us out.”

Miss Octavia smiled brightly and waved this away as she walked over to greet them. “Oh, what are friends for?”

“Free advertisement for your harmonium lessons in zer paper?”

Miss Octavia’s smile became, if possible, even brighter. “Yes!” She hurried over to Sacharissa and shook her hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Otto keeps on gushing about the two of you during meetings, it is so sweet.”

“Octavia, zere is no need to-”

“Oh, don’t go all shy on us now,” Miss Octavia laughed. “I hope they know how lucky they are to have snatched up one of the cutest vampires in the city.”

“Oh, we are aware.” Sacharissa said, smiling as she shrugged out of her coat. Otto didn’t say anything to that, just hurried over to the lamps and began lighting them with more attention than was strictly needed for the task.

Miss Octavia moved on to William, looking him up and down as she shook his hand firmly. “So, you’re the guy that needs some help with his footwork?”

“Uhm-”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about! We all need to start somewhere.” She let go of his hand and clapped her own together, heading back to the harmonium. “Both I and the meeting room were free today; meetings are normally on Wednesdays. So, what kind of music do you need?”

“Ve are beginnink viz slov valtz.” Otto said, lighting the last lamp and pulling out a couple of chairs from the stack beside the wall. “So, if you have somezink suitable?”

Miss Octavia nodded, cracked her knuckles and began a slow melody.

William put his coat down next to Sacharissa’s. “So, which of you ...” Want to risk your feet this time? He didn’t say the last part out loud, but he wondered if Sacharissa were thinking the same thing, because she sat down and gave Otto a little push out onto the floor.

William put his hand on Otto’s back the way he had with Sacharissa, before stopping as he realised something. “Eh, we’re both men.”

“Yes, Villiam?”

“So, which part do I – which one of us is dancing the-”

“I zink it is best zat you just stick viz zer man’s part. Less confusink to just learn one side, yes?”

“If that’s alright ... ?”

“No problem, darlink, I am used to svitchink it up. Nov, do you remember zer box?”

It was easier when they had more space. Without any furniture to bump into, William could concentrate on the steps. Forward with the left foot, step to the side with the right foot, and let them close together. Then backwards with the right foot, to the side with the left foot, and close together. Forward, side, close. Backward, side, close. One-two-three. Four-Five-Six.

“Good, Villiam, nov, try to just zink of zer steps, not mutter zem.”

“Right, right ...”

It took a while, to get the hang of it, but at some point, it became almost like a trance; the same movements repeated over and over again. William found his thoughts starting to wander away from the constant rhythm of the steps and over to other topics. The feel of Otto’s hand in his, the warm atmosphere of the lights, the sound of Sacharissa’s shoes tapping on the floor in time with the music.

But just as he was thinking he might get the hang of it, Otto stopped, and so did the music.

“Nov, ve are goink to try a nev step, alright?”

“What?”

“Ve are goink to move out of zer box.”

“But I was just getting the hang of the box!”

William could hear Sacharissa giggling, but there was no mocking in it. Slowly, Otto started pulling William along the floor, explaining bit by bit how to keep the rhythm of the steps, but now moving around the room, instead of staying in place.

“You keep zer one-tvo-zree, but instead of movink back into zer box, you keep goink forvard viz zer right foot as vell, follov me.”

Slowly, very slowly, more steps were added to the waltz. Otto seemed to sense when William started to get the hang of it, because once he got comfortable with one step, it didn’t take long before the vampire made them stop and added another. William got a little bit relaxed, and then he was pushed out of the comfort-zone again. But ... it was fine. He felt like he was actually making some sort of progress when the music stopped for the last time and Miss Octavia stretched her arms, declaring the lesson to be over.

“You’re really good at this.” William said, still with his hand on Otto’s back.

“All vampires are good at dancink.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Villiam, my fangs have been zis close to your neck for nearly tvo hours and you never noticed.”

“... oh.” William said, letting go. “But – but that’s because I know that you’d never-”

“Vell, yes, but zat is not alvays the case.”

For a moment, William could picture the ballroom of a dark castle in Überwald instead of the meeting room Abattoirs Lane; the music more sombre, the candlelight flickering as a storm raged outside.

“Vampires have to be charmink,” Otto said as they began turning of the lamps and putting things back in their proper place. “If ve are not, hov vould ve make our guests stay for dinner? But of course,” he added; “I do not do zat anymore.”

It became a routine, the dancing lessons. The meeting rooms were empty an evening or two every week, so they kept coming back. Otto and Sacharissa might not be professional teachers, but William found he took to their dancing lessons easier than he’d had with any others. After a few weeks he was getting the hang of the waltz. He could do the steps without muttering them, and he managed to send his partners out on a turn without messing it up too often when they returned to him.

After the waltz, some attempts were made with the tango. William wondered if the Quirmians had invented this dance in an attempt to have sex outside without anyone calling the Watch for public indecency.⁷ The first attempt at a dip ended with hands slipping and Otto meeting the floor with a smack. From there on, Sacharissa refused to try the dance with William. A dip was basically the dancing world’s answer to a trust-fall, and while she trusted him with many things, she did not trust him not to drop her too. In the end, they let the tango lie. Not all dances were for everyone, and some suited bullfighters and hot-blooded Quirmian ladies better than it did a Morporkian newspaper-crew.

Minuet, gavotte and a couple of other dances followed. William mastered some of them, others not so much. And it was alright; he didn’t have to be perfect. Otto and Sacharissa didn’t get angry or disappointed when he messed up; the worst he’d get was some light-hearted teasing. They tried folkdances that would never have been danced in his childhood-home, and wouldn’t be much use at the balls they were invited to, just for fun. That was the best lesson, really; that dancing could be fun. It was logical in a way. Why else would people keep dancing through the centuries, if it wasn’t fun. It was far better to be spin Sacharissa around and welcome her back, or sway gently pressed close to Otto, than it had been trying to count steps with some girl he barely knew. That’s what made the whole difference.

“Are all dances meant to be in pairs?” William asked one evening as they were heading back after another lesson.

Sacharissa looked at him. “No, there’s plenty of circle dances, and several of the country-dances takes at least four or eight people when you set it up the way it’s meant to. That might be difficult to teach, though, since there’s only three of us.”

“Yes, but that’s not really what I meant. Aren’t there any dances for, well,” he gestured between the three of them. “Three people?”

“Hm.”

“It’s just that ... one of us always has to sit it out.”

In the months since they started teaching him, there had been a lot of switching. Either Otto or Sacharissa had danced with William, while the other had sat by. Sometimes, it had been necessary to demonstrate how to do things, and so William and sat down and watched the two of them. But someone was always watching, there was always someone stuck on the outside.

“There must be something, right?” Sacharissa said.

“I zink so. Zere ought to be.”

Yes, it ought to, William thought. But the world seemed to be made to put people in pairs, and those who didn’t fit had to carve out their own spaces.

In the end, they did what newspaper people usually do when they unanswered questions: they started digging. Research took them to the ballet academy, interviews at Dame Pirouetta’s dancing school, the dusty library at Ankh-Morpork’s Institute of Preforming Arts and a tiny museum dedicated to the folk traditions of rimwards nations.

There turned out to be at least a few folk dances that needed all three of them on the floor.

They had most success with one called ‘trojak’, a traditional dance from Mouldavia. The name, according to the curator of the museum of Rimwards Folk traditions, meant ‘threesome’ or ‘trio’. There were several distinct parts of the dance, beginning with three people in a line, sidestepping, bowing and curtsying, and soon becoming a bit of a roundabout as the music sped up; judging by their traditional dance, the people of Mouldavia clearly had a great appreciation for spinning around.

They paired up, linked arms and switched partners, made a circle, paired up and switched again, all the time spinning around and trying to time it with the others. Miss Octavia had a lot of fun playing faster and faster, to see how long they could hang on. The first lessons quickly devolved into a mess; neither Otto nor Sacharissa had tried the dance before, and suddenly lacked the upper-hand their experience with other dances had given them. Combined with the continuous spinning and switching of partners, the first attempts often ended with at least one person on the floor.

They laughed, got up, and tried again. With no one sitting out, they all had to focus on learning the steps. Trying to spin both partners at once ended up with arms tangled up, mistimed switches resulted with someone suddenly running to reach their place in time. The kisses meant to end the dance landed anywhere but the cheek most of the times.

But slowly, they got the hang of it. They remembered the steps, and the moves became smoother. When one of them let go of the others’ hand, they knew what to and where to go until they linked up again. They left the lessons breathless, slightly unsteady, and smiling.

The trojak was the last dance they mastered. Miss Octavia had gotten enough advertisement out of the deal to have lessons lined up, and by now William was if not quite an expert in the various dances, at least a passable novice. So, they stopped. That had been the plan, after all; to teach, to learn something new. There was no point in continuing once you’d learnt it.

It was a few weeks after the last lesson they were invited to the engagement ball of Lord Selachii’s eldest daughter. No expense had been spared; the ballroom was covered in roses, champagne flowed freely, and famed Quirmian chef Amore Croissant had made lifelike chocolate sculptures for every table. William did not even want to speculate on how big the wedding was going to be, if this was just the prelude.

William was finishing up his notes about the upcoming Vandermight-divorce⁸ when a familiar tune started up. It was one of the melodies Miss Octavia had often played when they’d been practicing the waltz. He looked for the others, wondering if they’d recognised it too. A couple of tables away he noticed Sacharissa. She was apparently deeply engrossed in whatever gossip lady Dollarworth was telling her, but he could see her feet tapping.

She wanted to dance. William could ask her for the next dance. He could do that now, he’d mastered the steps, he could move to the music without staring at his feet or muttering under his breath. He ought to ask her, there was really excuses not to now. It would be fun, wouldn’t it? They’d had lots of fun practicing in Abattoirs Lane. But this wasn’t the small cellar, it was a ballroom. It wasn’t just the three of them now, it was a whole host of people around that would ... be looking at him. It would be like a performance, where people judged when he messed up. When they laughed, it wouldn’t be the good-natured kind laugh and ‘let’s try again’, it would all-

There was a tap at his shoulder, and William nearly jumped.

“Disc to Villiam?” Otto was looking at him. “You vere zinkink a lot nov. Vot about?”

“Is something wrong?” Sacharissa came up next to him. She had apparently also noticed him zoning out.

“No, no, everything’s fine.” William said. “I just wondered if- if ... I’d like to ask you to dance. With me. If ... you want to do that?”

Otto and Sacharissa shared a look. “Yes, that would be fun.” Then they both looked at William, and he suddenly had a feeling like they were seeing right through him. Sacharissa put a hand on his shoulder.

“But do you want to, William?”

“I can do it.”

“Ve knov you can, darlink, but do you vant to?”

William looked out over the ballroom. All the rich façades where everything had to be perfect and right with no room for anyone making the wrong steps and leaving their proper place.

“I – no.”

“That’s fine, you don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry.” William hung his head.

“Vhy are you apologisink?”

“I just – I thought I could do it. I did do it! I had fun with the lessons, I liked it, I just ... don’t like it ... here.” He gestured to the massive ballroom and all the people. “I thought I was over it, because it’s different with you two. You’re not snobby rich girls that suffer through my stumbling because we’re ‘supposed to’ do it. With you it’s nice, but this ... place, these people ... it all becomes a performance again.” William sighed. “I can’t do it. I’ve wasted your time-”

“William.” Sacharissa cut through his rambling. “It was not a waste of time. You wanted to try and learn, that is not a waste.”

“And ve had a lot of fun together, zat is not a vaste either.” Otto chimed in.

“But, if I can’t do it here, where am I supposed to use what I’ve learned?”

“Wherever you want. At home, in one of the festivals coming up, in the streets, if the urge gets you.”

“And ve do not need to stop dancink in zer meeting rooms if you like zat. I knov Octavia vould do me a favor nov and zen.”

“How much advertisement does she need?”

“I can put in zer good vord for her viz my friend Damon. She is sveet on him, but he is oblivious to her flappink her eyelashes. Zat gratefulness vould make up for a fev more eveninks.”

“And ... that’s alright with both of you?”

“Of course it is, William. You do whatever feels right.”

They both smiled and hugged him.

They didn’t dance together that night. And that was alright. Invitations kept coming, and sometimes William went, and sometimes he didn’t. If anyone of the crew felt like occasionally treading the ballroom-floors, it was Otto and Sacharissa. That was alright too.

Every now and then, there was laughter and sounds of people bumping into furniture in their too-small flat. And sometimes, music could be heard from the cellar in Abattoirs Lane on evenings when there were no meeting of the League of Temperance.⁹

It all turned out to be, in the end, alright.

FOOTNOTES

1. The cake had been almost too big to get through the kitchen-door. When it was wheeled out and placed in the middle of the room, everyone could hear the sounds coming from the inside. Once Lord Monflathers had cut it open, several morporks flew out of the cake. It was spectacular, patriotic, and rather unhygienic. Some of the birds had escaped out the windows, while others settled up under the roof, hooting and occasionally relieving themselves on the guests with terrifying precision.▲
2. William had never used an iconograph before. When the pictures from the celebration were processed the next day, his were bad enough to nearly make Otto cry. William promised not to try doing it on his own again.▲
3. They had now somehow managed to turn lead to a cold. According to a Thomas Silverfish, this meant they were on the right path. They’d soon be able to turn lead into dold, eold, fold, and at last, finally into actual gold. The leader of the guild had been blowing his nose thrice a minute, and once the interview was over, he’d returned to bed and some warm chicken soup.▲
4. After the morpork-cake at Monflathers’ ball, several owls had been adopted by upper-crusts with a passion for ornithology.▲
5. “We need to talk” are words that strike fear into the hearts of anyone, because it will mean they have fucked up in some way or another. These words are usually followed by a conversation that turns into an argument, that ends with someone sleeping on the couch (or in the coffin). Many a brave hero who slays monsters without breaking a sweat will run for the hills at the mention of these four words.▲
6. Traditionally, the man was meant to lead in the dance. They had made some attempts before it became clear this had to be saved for later sessions.▲
7. Mrs Arcanum might have fainted if she had seen anyone try out the steps within her line of sight.▲
8. The twelfth in a row, soon to be followed by Lord Vandermight’s thirteenth wedding.▲
9. Damon von Schwarzsauer didn’t need much of a push to ask Miss Octavia out on a date. As a Black Ribboner who had chosen to channel his passion for blood into a passion for playing the saxophone, they were clearly meant to be.▲