The Truth (40 page)

“It’s your office,” said William coldly. “You can say anything you like.” Beyond the window he could see the torches of the Watch, arriving at the ruins of the old shed. He took a step back.

“Don’t be like that, William,” said Sacharissa. “It’s because of that, you see, Ronnie, that we’ve come to you.”

“Really?” Carney smiled. “You have been a bit of a silly girl, haven’t you…”

“Yes, er…well, all our money was…” Sacharissa sniffed. “The fact is…well, we’ve just got nothing now. We…worked so hard, so
hard,
and now it’s all gone…” She started to sob.

Ronnie Carney leaned over the desk and patted her hand.

“Is there anything I can do?” he said.

“Well, I did hope…I wondered if…I mean, d’you think you could see your way clear to…letting us use one of your presses tonight?”

Carney rocked back. “You what? Are you mad?”

Sacharissa blew her nose. “Yes, I thought you’d probably say that,” she said sadly.

Carney, slightly mollified, leaned forward and patted her hand again. “I know we used to play together when we were children—” he began.

“I don’t think we actually
played,
” said Sacharissa, fishing in her handbag. “You used to chase me and I used to hit you over the head with a wooden cow. Ah, here it is…” She dropped the bag, stood up, and aimed one of the late Mr. Pin’s pistol bows straight at the editor.

“Let us use your ‘ing’ presses or I’ll ‘ing’ shoot your ‘ing’ head ‘ing’ off!” she screamed. “I think that’s how you’re supposed to say it, isn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t dare pull that trigger!” said Carney, trying to crouch in his chair.

“It was a lovely cow, and one day I hit you so hard one of the legs broke off,” said Sacharissa dreamily.

Carney looked imploringly at William.

“Can’t you talk some sense into her?” he said.

“We just need the loan of one of your presses for an hour or so, Mr. Carney,” said William, while Sacharissa kept the barrel of the bow aimed at the man’s nose with what he judged to be a very strange smile on her face. “And then we’ll be gone.”

“What are you going to do?” said Carney hoarsely.

“Well, firstly, I’m going to tie you up,” said William.

“No! I’ll call the overseers!”

“I think they’re…busy at the moment,” said Sacharissa.

Carney listened. It seemed unusually quiet downstairs.

He sagged.

The printing staff of the
Inquirer
were in a ring around Goodmountain.

“Right, lads,” said the dwarf, “here’s how it works. Everyone who goes home early tonight ’cos of a headache gets a hundred dollars, all right? It’s an old Klatchian custom.”

“And what happens if we don’t go?” said the foreman, picking up a mallet.

“Vell,” said a voice by his ear, “that’s ven you
get
a…headache.”

There was a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder. Otto punched the air triumphantly.

“Yes!” he shouted, as the printers ran madly towards the doors. “Ven you really, really need it, zere it is! Let’s try vunce more…castle!” The thunder rolled again. The vampire jumped up and down excitedly, coattails flying. “Vow!
Now
ve are cooking! Vunce more mit feelink! Vot a big…
castle…”
The thunder was even louder this time.

Otto did a little jig, beside himself with joy, tears running down his gray face.

“Music vid Rocks In!” he yelled.

In the silence after the thunder roll, William pulled a velvet bag from his pocket and tipped it out onto the desk blotter.

Carney stared goggle-eyed at the jewels.

“Two thousand dollars’ worth,” said William. “At least. Our admission to the Guild. I’ll just leave them here, shall I? No need for a receipt. We trust you.” Carney said nothing, because of the gag. He had been tied to his chair.

At this point, Sacharissa pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

“I must’ve forgotten to put the pointy arrow bit in,” she said, as Carney fainted away. “What a silly girl I am. ‘Ing.’ I feel so much better for saying that, you know? ‘Ing.’ ‘Inginginginging.’ I wonder what it means?”

Gunilla Goodmountain looked expectantly at William, who swayed as he tried to think.

“All right,” he said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Triple-decker heading, as wide as you can. First line: Conspiracy Revealed! Got that? Next line: Lord Vetinari Is Innocent!” He hesitated at that one, but let it go. People could argue about its general application later on. That wasn’t the important thing at the moment.

“Yes?” said Goodmountain. “And the next line?”

“I’ve written it down,” said William, passing him a page torn from the notebook. “Caps, please. Big caps. Big as you can. The sort the
Inquirer
used for elves and exploding people.”

“This?” said the dwarf, reaching for a case of huge black letters. “Is
this
news?”

“It is now,” said William. He flicked back through the pages of his notebook.

“Are you going to write the story down first?” said the dwarf.

“No time. Ready? ‘A plot to illegally seize control of Ankh-Morpork was exposed last night after days of patient detective work by the Watch. Paragraph. The
Times
understands that two assassins, both now dead, were hired from outside the city to blacken the character of Lord Vetinari and depose him as Patrician. Paragraph. They used an innocent man with a remarkable resemblance to Lord Vetinari in order to trick their way into the Palace. Once inside…’”

“Hold on, hold on,” said Goodmountain. “The Watch didn’t get to the bottom of this, did they?
You
did!”

“I just said they had been working for days,” said William. “That’s true. I don’t have to say they weren’t getting anywhere.” He saw the look in the dwarf’s eye. “Look, very soon I’m going to have a lot more unpleasant enemies than anyone really needs. I’d like Vimes to be angry at me for making him look good rather than for making him look bad. Okay?”

“Even so—”

“Don’t argue with me!”

Goodmountain didn’t dare. There was a
look
in William’s face. The boy had frozen when he was listening to the box, and now he’d unfrozen into…someone else.

Someone a lot more touchy and a lot less patient. He looked as though he was running a fever.

“Now…where was I?”

“‘Once inside…’” said the dwarf.

“Okay…once inside…no…make it: The
Times
understands that Lord Vetinari was…Sacharissa, you said the man in the cellar looked just like Vetinari?”

“Yes. Haircut and
everything
.”

“Right. The
Times
understands that Lord Vetinari was overwhelmed in the moment of shock on seeing himself entering his office—”

“Do we understand that?” said Sacharissa.

“Yes. It makes sense. Who’s going to argue? Where was I…Their plan was foiled by Lord Vetinari’s dog, Wuffles(16), who attacked both men. Paragraph. The noise of this attracted the attention of Lord Vetinari’s clerk, Rufus Drumknott…damn, I forgot to ask him how old he was…who was then knocked unconscious. Paragraph. The attackers tried to put the interruption to good use in their…what’s the good word? Oh, yes…their dastardly plan and stabbed Drumknott with one of Lord Vetinari’s own daggers in an attempt to make it look as if he was insane or murderous. Paragraph. Acting with vicious cunning—”

“You’re getting really
good
at this,” said Sacharissa.

“Don’t interrupt him,” hissed Boddony. “I want to find out what the dastards did next!”

“—with vicious cunning, they forced the bogus Lord Vetinari—”

“Good word, good word,” said Goodmountain, setting furiously.

“Are you certain about ‘forced’?” said Sacharissa.

“They aren’t—they weren’t the kind of men who ask nicely,” said William brusquely. “Er…forced the bogus Lord Vetinari…to make a false confession to some servants who were attracted by the noise. Then all three, carrying the unconscious Lord Vetinari and harried by the dog, Wuffles (16), took the stairs to the stables. Paragraph. There they had set up a scene to suggest that Lord Vetinari had been trying to rob the city, as already reported in—”

“
Exclusively
in,” Sacharissa said.

“Right,
exclusively
in the
Times
. Paragraph. However, the dog Wuffles escaped, dash, and caused a citywide search by the Watch and criminals alike. He was found by a group of public-spirited citizens. They—”

A piece of type dropped from Goodmountain’s fingers.

“You mean Foul Ole Ron and that bunch?”

“—public-spirited citizens,” William repeated, nodding furiously. “They kept him hidden, while—”

Cold winter storms had the whole of the Sto Plains in which to build up speed. By the time they hit Ankh-Morpork they were fast and heavy and laden with malice.

This time it took the form of hail. Fist-sized balls of ice smashed into tiles. They blocked gutters and filled the streets with shrapnel.

They hammered on the roof of the warehouse in Gleam Street. One or two windows smashed.

William paced up and down, shouting out his words above the force of the storm, occasionally flicking back and forth through the pages of his notebook. Otto came out and handed the dwarfs a couple of iconograph plates. The crew limped and sidled in, ready for the edition.

William stopped. The last letters clicked into place.

“Let’s see what it looks like so far,” said William.

Goodmountain inked the type, put a piece of paper over the story, and ran a hand-roller over it. Wordlessly, he handed it to Sacharissa.

“Are you
sure
of all this, William?” she said.

“Yes.”

“I mean, some bits—are you sure it’s all true?”

“I’m sure it’s all journalism,” said William.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s true enough for now.”

“But do you know the
names
of these people?”

William hesitated. Then he said:

“Mr. Goodmountain, you can insert an extra paragraph anywhere in the story, can’t you?”

“That’s not a problem.”

“Right. Then set this: The
Times
can reveal that the assassins were hired by a group of prominent citizens led by…The
Times
can reveal that…” He took a deep breath. “Start again…The plotters, the
Times
can reveal, were headed by…” William shook his head. “Evidence points to…uh…Evidence, the
Times
can reveal…All the evidence, the
Times
can reveal…can reveal…” His voice trailed off.

“This is going to be a long paragraph?” said Goodmountain.

William stared miserably at the damp proof.

“No,” he said wretchedly. “I think that’s it. Let it go at that. Put in a line saying that the
Times
will be helping the Watch with its enquiries.”

“Why? We’re not guilty of anything, are we?” said Goodmountain.

“Just do it, please.” William screwed the proof into a ball, tossed it onto a bench, and wandered off towards the press.

Sacharissa found him a few minutes later. A print room offers a mass of holes and corners, mostly used by those whose duties require the occasional bunk-off for a quiet smoke. William was sitting on a pile of paper, staring at nothing.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” she said.

“No.”

“Do you know who the conspirators are?”

“No.”

“Then would it be true to say that you
suspect
you know who the conspirators are?”

He gave her an angry look. “Are you trying journalism on me?”

“I’m just supposed to try it on everyone else, then, am I? Not you, then?” she said, sitting down beside him.

William absentmindedly pressed a button of the Dis-organizer.

“Wheeewheedle the truth has got its boots on…”

“You don’t get on very well with your father, is tha—” Sacharissa began.

“What am I supposed to
do?
” said William. “That’s his favorite saying. He says it proves how gullible people are. Those men had the run of our house. He’s in this up to his neck!” “Yes, but perhaps he just did it as a favor to some other—”

“If my father is involved in anything, he’ll be the leader,” said William flatly. “If you don’t know that, you don’t know the de Wordes. We don’t join any team if we can’t be captain.”

“But it’d be a bit silly, wouldn’t it, to let them use your own house—”

“No, just very, very arrogant,” said William. “We’ve always been privileged, you see. Privilege just means ‘private law.’ That’s exactly what it means. He just doesn’t believe the ordinary laws apply to him. He really believes they can’t touch him, and that if they do he can just shout until they go away. That’s the de Worde tradition, and we’re
good
at it. Shout at people, get your own way, ignore the rules. It’s the de Worde way. Up until me, obviously.”

Sacharissa was careful not to let her expression change.

“And I didn’t expect this,” William finished, turning the box over and over in his hands.

“You said you want to get at the truth, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but not this! I…must have got something wrong. I must have. I
must
have. Even my father couldn’t be this…this
stupid.
I’ve got to find out what’s really been happening.”

“You’re not going to see him, are you?” said Sacharissa.

“Yes. By now he’ll know it’s over.”

“Then you ought to take someone with you!”

“No!” snapped William. “Look, you don’t know what my father’s friends are like. They are brought up to give orders, they know that they’re on the right side because if they are on it then it
must
be the right side, by definition, and when they feel threatened they are bare-knuckle fighters, except that they never take
their
gloves off. They are thugs. Thugs and bullies,
bullies,
and the worst kind of bully, because they
aren’t
cowards and if you stand up to them they only hit you harder. They grew up in a world where, if you were enough trouble, they could have you…disappeared. You think places like the Shades are bad? Then you don’t know what goes on in Park Lane! And my father is one of the worst. But I’m family. We…care about family. So I’ll be all right. You stay here and help them get the paper out, will you? Half a truth is better than nothing,” he added bitterly.