Going Postal

‘Er, er, er, er… it says further on: “The men obtained control of the Trunk via a ruse known as the Double Lever, in the main using money entrusted to them by clients who did not suspect that —”‘

‘Stop reading that!’ Greenyham shouted. ‘This is ridiculous! It is just slander upon slander!’

‘I’m certain I spoke, Mr Greenyham,’ said Vetinari.

Greenyham faltered.

‘Good. Thank you,’ said Vetinari. ‘These are very serious allegations, certainly. Embezzlement? Murder? I’m sure that Mr— sorry, Professor Collabone is a trustworthy man’ - in the omniscope Devious Collabone, Unseen University’s newest professor, nodded desperately - ‘who is only reading what has been delivered, so it would appear that they have originated from within your own company. Serious allegations, Mr Greenyham. Made in front of all these people. Are you suggesting I should treat them as some sort of prank? The city is watching, Mr Greenyham. Oh, Stowley appears to be ill.’

‘This is not the place for—’ Greenyham tried, aware once more of the creaking of ice.

‘It is the ideal place,’ said Vetinari. ‘It is public . In the circumstances, given the nature of the allegations, I’m sure everyone would require that I get to the bottom of them as soon as possible, if only to prove them totally groundless.’ He looked around. There was a chorus of agreement. Even the upper crust loved a show.

‘What do you say, Mr Greenyham?’ said Vetinari.

Greenyham said nothing. The cracks were spreading, the ice was breaking up on every side.

‘Very well,’ said Vetinari. He turned to the figure beside him.

‘Commander Vimes, be so kind as to send men to the offices of the Grand Trunk Company, Ankh-Sto Associates, Sto Plains Holdings, Ankh Futures and particularly to the premises of the Ankh-Morpork Mercantile Credit Bank. Inform the manager, Mr Cheeseborough, that the bank is closed for audit and I wish to see him in my office at his earliest convenience. Any person in any of those premises who so much as moves a piece of paper before my clerks arrive will be arrested and held complicit in any or all of such offences as may be uncovered. While this is happening, moreover, no person concerned with the Grand Trunk Company or any of its employees is to leave this room.’

‘You can’t do that!’ Greenyham protested weakly, but the fire had drained out of him. Mr Stowley had collapsed on the floor, with his head in his hands.

‘Can I not?’ said Vetinari. ‘I am a tyrant. It’s what we do.’

‘What is happening? Who am I? Where is this place?’ moaned Stowley, a man who believed in laying down some groundwork as soon as possible.

‘But there’s no evidence! That wizard’s lying! Someone must have been bribed!’ Greenyham pleaded. Not only had the ice broken up, but he was on the floe with the big hungry walrus.

‘Mr Greenyham,’ said Lord Vetinari, ‘one more uninvited outburst from you and you will be imprisoned. I hope that is clear?’

‘On what charge?’ said Greenyham, still managing to find a last reserve of hauteur from somewhere.

‘There doesn’t have to be one !’ Robe swirling like the edge of darkness, Vetinari swung round to the omniscope and Devious Collabone, for whom two thousand miles suddenly wasn’t far enough. ‘Continue, Professor. There will be no further interruptions.’

Moist watched the audience as Collabone stuttered and mispronounced his way through the rest of the message. It dealt with generalities rather than particulars, but there were dates, and names, and thundering denunciations. There was nothing new, not really new, but it was packaged in fine language and it was delivered by the dead.

We who died on the dark towers demand this of you…

He ought to be ashamed.

It was one thing to put words in the mouths of the gods; priests did it all the time. But this, this was a step too far. You had to be some kind of bastard to think of something like this.

He relaxed a bit. A fine upstanding citizen wouldn’t have stooped so low, but he hadn’t got this job because he was a fine upstanding citizen. Some tasks needed a good honest hammer. Others needed a twisty corkscrew.

With any luck, he could believe that, if he really tried.

There had been a late fall of snow, and the fir trees around Tower 181 were crusted with white under the hard, bright starlight.

Everyone was up there tonight - Grandad, Roger, Big Steve-oh, Wheezy Halfsides, who was a dwarf and had to sit on a cushion to reach the keyboards, and Princess.

There had been a few muffled exclamations as the message came through. Now there was silence, except for the sighing of the wind. Princess could see people’s breath in the air. Grandad was drumming his fingers on the woodwork.

Then Wheezy said: ‘Was that all real?’

The breath clouds got denser. People were relaxing, coming back to the real world.