The Truth (28 page)

In deference to tradition, though, Otto had made it black, with a red silk lining, and added tails.

On making gentle inquiries of a family watching disconsolately as the smoke from the fire was turned to steam, William ascertained that the blaze had been mysteriously caused by mysterious spontaneous combustion in an overflowing mysterious chip pan full of boiling fat.

William left them picking through the blackened remains of their home.

“And it’s just a story,” he said, putting the notebook away. “It does makes me feel a bit of a vampire—oh…sorry.”

“It is okay,” said Otto. “I understand. And I should like to thank you for givink me zis job. It means a lot to me, especially since I can see how nervous you are. Vhich is understandable, of course.”

“I’m not nervous! I’m very much at home with other species!” said William hotly.

Otto’s expression was amicable, but it was also as penetrative as the smile of a vampire can be.

“Yes, I notice how careful you are to be friendly with the dwarfs and you are kind to me, also. It is a big effort vhich is very commendable—”

William opened his mouth to protest, and gave up. “All right, look, it’s the way I was brought up, all right? My father was definitely very…in favor of humanity, well, ha, not humanity in the sense of…I mean, it was more that he was against—”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“And that’s all there is to it, okay? We can all decide who we’re going to be!”

“Yes, yes, sure. And if you vant any advice about vimmin, you only have to ask.”

“Why should I want advice about vi—women?”

“Oh, no reason. No reason at all,” said Otto innocently.

“Anyway, you’re a vampire. What advice could a vampire give me about women?”

“Oh, my vord, vake up and smell zer garlic! Oh, zer stories I could tell you”—Otto paused—“but I von’t because I don’t do zat sort of thing anymore, now zat I have seen the daylight.” He nudged William, who was red with embarrassment. “Let us just say, zey don’t
alvays
scream.”

“That’s a bit tasteless, isn’t it?”

“Oh, that vas in zer bad old days,” said Otto hurriedly. “Now I like nothing better than a nice mug of cocoa and a good singsong around zer harmonium, I assure you. Oh, yes. My vord.”

Getting into the office to write up the story turned out to be a problem. In fact, so was getting into Gleam Street.

Otto caught William up as he stood and stared.

“Vell, I suppose ve asked for it,” he shouted. “Tventy-five dollars is a lot of money.”

“What?” shouted William.

“I SAID TVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS IS A LOT OF MONEY, VILLIAM!”

“WHAT?”

Several people pushed past them. They were carrying dogs.
Everyone
in Gleam Street was carrying a dog, or leading a dog, or being dragged by a dog, or being savaged, despite the owner’s best efforts, by a dog belonging to someone else. The barking had already gone beyond mere sounds, and was now some kind of perceptible force, hitting the eardrums like a hurricane made of scrap iron.

William pulled the vampire into a doorway, where the din was merely unbearable.

“Can’t
you
do something?” he screamed. “Otherwise we’ll never get through!”

“Like vot?”

“Well, you know…all that
children of the night
business?”

“Oh, zat,” said Otto. He looked glum. “Zat’s really very stereotypical, you know. Vy don’t you ask me to turn into a bat vhile you’re about it? I told you, I don’t do zat stuff no more!” “Have you got a better idea?”

A few feet away a Rottweiler was doing its best to eat a spaniel.

“Oh, very
vell
.”

Otto waved his hands vaguely.

The bark ceased instantly. And then every dog sat on its haunches and howled.

“Not a
huge
improvement but at least they’re not fighting,” said William, hurrying forward.

“Vell, I’m sorry. Stake me as you pass,” said Otto. “I shall have a very embarrassing five minutes explaining this at the next meeting, you understand? I know it’s not zer…sucking item, but I mean, vun should care about zer
look
of zer thing…”

They climbed over a rotting fence and entered the shed via the back door.

People and dogs were squeezing in through the other door and were only held at bay by a barricade of desks and also by Sacharissa, who was looking harassed as she faced a sea of faces and muzzles. William could just make out her voice above the din.

“No, that’s a poodle. It doesn’t look a bit like the dog we’re after—”

“—no, that’s not it. How do I know? Because it’s a
cat
. All right, then why’s it washing itself? No, I’m sorry, dogs
don’t
do that—”

“—no, madam, that’s a bulldog—”

“—no, that’s not it. No, sir, I
know
that’s not it. Because it’s a parrot, that’s why. You’ve taught it to bark and you’ve painted ‘DoG’ on the side of it but it’s still a parrot—”

Sacharissa pushed her hair out of her eyes and caught sight of William.

“Well, now, who’s been a clever boy?” she said.

“Wh’s a cl’r boy?”
said the DoG.

“How many more out there?”

“Hundreds, I’m afraid,” said William.

“Well, I’ve just had the most unpleasant half hour of—That’s a chicken! It’s a
chicken
, you stupid woman, it’s just laid an
egg!
—of my life and I would like to thank you
very
much. You’ll never
guess
what happened. No, that’s a Schnauswitzer! And you know what, William?”

“What?” said William.

“Some complete
muffin
offered a reward! In Ankh-Morpork! Can you believe that? They were queuing three deep when I got here! I mean, what kind of idiot would do a thing like that? I mean, one man had a cow! A
cow!
I had a huge argument about animal physiology before Rocky hit him over the head! The poor troll’s out there now trying to keep order! There’s
ferrets
out there!”

“Look, I’m
sorry
—”

“I wonder, ah, if we can be of any assistance?”

They turned.

The speaker was a priest, dressed in the black, unadorned, and unflattering habit of the Omnians. He had a flat, broad-brimmed hat, the Omnia’s turtle symbol around his neck, and an expression of almost terminal benevolence.

“Mm, I am Brother Upon-Which-the-Angels-Dance Pin,” said the priest, stepping aside to reveal a mountain in black, “and this is Sister Jennifer, who is under a vow of
silence
.”

They stared up at the apparition of Sister Jennifer, while Brother Pin went on: “That means she does not, mm, talk.
At all
. In
any
circumstances.”

“Oh dear,” said Sacharissa weakly. One of Sister Jennifer’s eyes was revolving, in a face that was like a brick wall.

“Yes, mm, and we happened to be in Ankh-Morpork as part of the Bishop Horn Ministry to Animals and heard that you were looking for a little doggie who is in trouble,” said Brother Pin. “I can see you are, mm, a little overwhelmed, and perhaps we can help? It would be our duty.”

“The dog’s a little terrier,” said Sacharissa, “but you’d be
amazed
at what people are bringing in—”

“Dear me,” said Brother Pin. “But Sister Jennifer is
very
good at this sort of thing…”

Sister Jennifer strode to the front desk. A man hopefully held up what was clearly a badger.

“He’s been a bit ill—”

Sister Jennifer brought her fist down on his head.

William winced.

“Sister Jennifer’s order believes in tough love,” said Brother Pin. “A little correction at the right time can prevent a lost soul taking the wrong path.”

“Vhich order is this she belongs to, please?” said Otto, as the lost soul carrying his badger staggered out, his legs trying to take several paths at once.

Brother Pin gave him a damp smile.

“The Little Flowers of Perpetual Annoyance,” he said.

“Really? I had not heard of zis vun. Very…outreaching. Vell, I must go and see if the imps have done zer job properly…”

Certainly the crowd was thinning rapidly under the stress of seeing the advancing Sister Jennifer, especially the segment of it that had brought dogs that purred or ate sunflower seeds. Many of those who
had
brought an actual living dog were looking nervous, as well.

A sense of unease crept over William. He knew that some sections of the Omnian Church still believed that the way to send a soul to heaven was to give the body hell. And Sister Jennifer couldn’t be blamed for her looks, or even the size of her hands. And even if the backs of said hands were rather hairy, well, that was the sort of thing that happened out in the rural districts.

“What exactly is she doing?” he said. There were yelps and shouts in the queue as dogs were grabbed, glared at, and thrust back with more than minimum force.

“As I said, we’re trying to find the little dog,” said Brother Pin. “It may need ministering to.”

“But…that wirehaired terrier there looks pretty much like the picture,” said Sacharissa. “And she’s just ignored it.”

“Sister Jennifer is very sensitive in these matters,” said Brother Pin.

“Oh well, this is not getting the next edition filled,” said Sacharissa, heading back to her desk.

“I expect it would help if we could print in color,” said William, when he was left alone with Brother Pin.

“Probably,” said the reverend brother. “It was a kind of grayish brown.”

William knew then that he was dead. It was only a matter of time.

“You
know
what color you’re looking for,” he said quietly.

“You just get on with sorting out the words, writer boy,” said Brother Pin, for his ears only. He opened the jacket of his frock coat just enough for William to see the range of cutlery holstered there, and closed it again. “This isn’t anything to do with you, okay? Shout out, and someone gets killed. Try to be a hero, and someone gets killed. Make any kind of sudden move, and someone gets killed. In fact, we might as well kill someone
anyway
and save some time, eh? You know that stuff about the pen being mightier than the sword?”

“Yes,” said William hoarsely.

“Want to try?”

“No.”

William caught sight of Goodmountain, who was staring at him.

“What’s that dwarf doing?” said Brother Pin.

“He’s setting type, sir,” said William. It was always wise to be polite to edged weapons.

“Tell him to get on with it,” said Pin.

“Er…if you could just get on with it, Mr. Goodmountain,” said William, raising his voice over the growls and yelps. “Everything is fine.”

Goodmountain nodded, and turned his back. He held up one hand theatrically, and then started to assemble type.

William watched. It was better than semaphore, as the hand dipped from box to box.

Hes a fawe?

W
was in the box next to
K
…

“Yes indeed,” said William. Pin glanced at him. “Yes indeed, what?”

“I, er, it was just nerves,” said William. “I’m always nervous in the presence of swords.”

Pin glanced at the dwarfs. They all had their backs to them.

Goodmountain’s hand moved again, flicking letter after letter from its nest.

Armed? coff 4 yes

“Something wrong with your throat?” said Pin, after William coughed.

“Just nerves again…sir.”

OK will get Otto

“Oh no,” William muttered.

“Where’s that dwarf going?” said Pin, his hand reaching into his coat.

“Just into the cellar, sir. To…fetch some ink.”

“Why? Looks like you’ve got lots of ink up here already.”

“Er, the white ink, sir. For the spaces. And the middle of the
O
’s.” William leaned towards Mr. Pin, and shuddered when the hand reached inside the jacket again. “Look, the dwarfs are all armed, too. With axes. And they get excited very easily. I’m the only person anywhere near you who hasn’t got a weapon. Please? I don’t want to die just yet. Just do whatever you came to do and go?”

It was a pretty good impression of an abject coward, he thought, because it was casting for type.

Pin glanced away.

“How are we doing, Sister Jennifer?” he said.

Sister Jennifer held a struggling sack.

“Got all the —ing terriers,” he said.

Brother Pin shook his head sharply.

“Got all the —ing terriers!”
fluted Sister Jennifer, in a much higher register. “
And there’s —ing watchmen at the end of the street!”

Out of the corner of his eye, William saw Sacharissa sit bolt upright. Death was certainly somewhere on the agenda now.

Otto was climbing unconcernedly up the cellar steps, one of his iconograph boxes swinging from his shoulder.

He nodded at William. Behind him, Sacharissa was pushing her chair back. Back in front of his case of type, Goodmountain was feverishly setting:
Hide your eyes

Mr. Pin turned to William. “What do you mean, white ink for the spaces?”

Sacharissa was looking angry and determined, like Mrs. Arcanum after an uncalled-for remark.

The vampire raised his box.

William saw the hod above it, crammed with Uberwaldean land eels.

Mr. Pin thrust back his coat.

William leapt towards the advancing girl, rising through the air like a frog through treacle.

Dwarfs started to jump over the low barrier to the print room with axes in their hands. And…

“Boo,” said Otto.

Time stopped. William felt the universe fold away, the little globe of walls and ceilings peeling back like the skin of an orange, leaving a chilly, rushing darkness filled with needles of ice. There were voices, cut off, random syllables of sound, and again the feeling that he’d felt before, that his body was as thin and insubstantial as a shadow.