Chapter 6 – The Musicians' Guild

Mr Clete, of the Musicians' Guild, was not, technically, a bad man (most people are not, it's just that they do bad things because of the circumstances that they are in, or for fun, or for mischief, or because they think that they can get away with it). But he was a stickler for the rules. He liked his job, and he was very good at it. Part of his job involved ensuring that people without a licence from the Musicians' Guild did not play music in Ankh-Morpork. He was quite happy to grant any new musicians a licence to practice their craft – provided that they could pay the licence fee. Those that could not pay this fee were simply refused a licence, and, if they then caused trouble, Mr Clete would simply call the Watch and have them removed.

Mr Clete also knew that he could not make exceptions. The rules were the rules, and they were there for everyone. If he made one exception, then he would have to make more exceptions – and that made a mockery of the whole notion of having rules. And Mr Clete respected rules.

Which was why he was not exactly happy when a stupid looking kid came to the Musicians' Guild, telling him that music should be free. Mr Clete had replied that whether it should be free or shouldn't be free was no concern of his, but that, if someone wanted to play music in Ankh-Morpork, then they were required to pay the Guild's fee. The stupid looking kid had then shown him the coins that he had earned, asking him if he had enough for the Guild's fee, and if he could now pay this fee.

Mr Clete had then counted the coins, counted them twice, just to make sure (he was a very thorough man), and said that, no, this was nowhere near enough, that the kid would need at least twice as much as this, if he wanted to play music in Ankh-Morpork. The stupid looking kid (now looking worried, as well as stupid) had asked if it was possible for him to take out a loan, so that he could use that to pay the fee for the Guild, and then play his music, thereby earning enough to pay off this loan.

Mr Clete simply shook his head, saying that such loans could not be granted, as there was no way to ensure that the money would be paid back.

The stupid looking kid had tried to reason with him, explaining that he had been brought up in the Musicians' Guild, and that he practiced a lot, and had become very good at his music, so would surely be able to pay back the loan very quickly. Mr Clete, however, was insistent – the rules were the rules – no loans.

The stupid looking kid had said that it was unfair that the fee had increased so much without warning, and that there should have been at least a few weeks' notice, so that musicians could have been given the opportunity to organise themselves and get the required money. Mr Clete had again insisted that what should or shouldn't be done did not concern him, but that rules were there for a reason, and needed to be obeyed. The stupid looking kid had then tried to explain that the fee would discourage new talent from coming to Ankh-Morpork – but Mr Clete had made it clear that he was not interested in this argument, insisting, yet again, that the rules were there for a reason, and that they had to be obeyed, regardless of whether or not this would discourage new musicians from coming to Anhk-Morpork.

It was almost as if he was a golem, just repeating the same thing, over and over, about the importance of obeying the rules. The stupid looking kid could tell that he would not be able to convince Mr Clete to let him play his music – and he knew that he had little talent for anything else, having lived and worked in the Musicians' Guild all of his life. So, he tried a different approach – he offered to pawn his pipe for a while, and to do odd jobs around the Musicians' Guild, such as cooking, cleaning, and washing, until he could earn enough so that he could afford the Guild's fee. Mr Clete – not unkindly, it has to be said – told him that he did not need that kind of help right now, that there was no shortage of people desperate for work in Ankh-Morpork, and so he would have to refuse his request.

Maurice listened as the stupid looking kid told him all about what had happened, about an hour later. It was a hot day, and so they were in the garden outside the King's Back, and, while there were a few other people around, no-one was paying them much attention. And, even if they had, well, it was just a stupid looking kid drinking a bowl of soup and talking to his cat (who was lapping up some water in a bowl as the boy talked) – there was nothing particularly interesting or unusual about either of them – at least, to the casual observer.

"Okay," said Maurice at last, when the stupid looking kid had finished telling him about what had happened, and after a quick check to ensure that no-one else was listening to them, "so that means that you can't go on playing your music in Ankh-Morpork, at least for a while."

The stupid looking kid put his head in his hands, then looked up and stared at the sky, as though seeking answers from the gods themselves, "But I can't stop playing music," he said quietly, his voice rather hoarse, "it's who I am. It's the only thing I'm good at. It would be like ordering Leonard of Quirm not to paint and not to invent things." He sighed, and looked down at Maurice once more.

Or ordering Sardines not to dance, thought Maurice, looking up at the stupid looking kid.

"Well, it seems obvious to me what you need to do," said Maurice, staring at the stupid looking kid critically.

"What's obvious?" asked the stupid looking kid, frowning slightly.

"Well, it's logical. You can't stay here in Ankh-Morpork if you want to continue playing your music. And you can't not play your music. So, the obvious solution is that you have to leave Ankh-Morpork."

The stupid looking kid stared at him intently for a moment, and then looked away, "But I've lived here all my life," he said quietly, "I'm not sure what it's like outside of this city." He returned to staring at Maurice for another a long moment, then shook his head sadly, "But I guess you are right," he sighed at last, "there's other places where I can go to play my music. But I'm nothing special," he added, "oh, I'm a good musician, I practice a lot," he said, still staring intently at Maurice, "but I don't have anything that sets me apart from all of the other musicians who want to make their fortune."

Apart from a talking cat, thought Maurice, staring up at him. It seemed to Maurice that they might both be able to help each other. Still, he wondered if now might be the right time to introduce this kid to the Changelings. Perhaps it would be better to wait, just for a short while.

"There's lots of people interested in playing music on the plains," the stupid looking kid continued, "and I don't think that I have anything that distinguishes my music from the music that they play."

Maurice stared up at him for a moment. Well, maybe now was the right time. "I think," he said slowly, "that now would be a good time for me to introduce you to some friends of mine."