The Truth

'I believe Mr de Worde can go free,' said Mr Slant.

Vimes shrugged. 'I'm only amazed you aren't asking me to give him a gold medal and an illuminated scroll of thanks. But I'm setting bail at one thou--'

'Ah?' said Mr Slant, raising a grey finger.

Vimes glowered. 'One hun--'

'Ah?'

Vimes grunted and reached into his pocket. He tossed William a dollar. 'Here,' he said, with extensive sarcasm. 'And if you aren't in front of the Patrician at ten o'clock tomorrow you've got to give it back. Satisfied?' he said to Slant.

'Which Patrician?' said William.

'Thank you for that smart answer,' said Vimes. 'Just you be there.'

Mr Slant was silent as he walked out into the night air with his new client, but after a while he said: 'I have presented a writ of exeo carco cum nihil pretii on the basis of olfacere violarum and sini plenis

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pistis. Tomorrow I shall move that you are ab hamo, and in the event of this not working I--'

'Smelling of violets?' said William, who had been translating in his head, 'and pockets full of fish?'

'Based on a case some six hundred years ago when the defendant successfully pleaded that, although he had indeed pushed the victim into a lake, the man came out with his pockets full of fish, to his net benefit,' said Mr Slant crisply. 'In any case, I shall argue that if withholding information from the Watch is a crime, every person in the city is guilty.'

'Mr Slant, I do not wish to have to say how and where I got my information,' said William. 'If I have to, I shall have to reveal all of it.'

The light from the distant lamp over the Watch House door, behind its blue glass, illuminated the lawyer's face. He looked ill.

'You really believe those two men had... accomplices?' he said.

'I'm sure of it,' said William. 'I'd say it's a matter of... record.'

At that point he almost felt sorry for the lawyer. But only almost.

'That might not be in the public interest,' said Mr Slant slowly. 'This ought to be a time for... reconciliation.'

'Absolutely. So I'm sure you will see to it that I don't have to pour all those words into Commander Vimes's ear.'

'Strangely enough, there was a precedent in 1497 when a cat successfully--'

'Good. And you will have one of your special quiet words with the Engravers' Guild. You are good at quiet words.'

'Well, of course I will do my best. The bill, however--'

'--won't exist,' said William.

Only then did Mr Slant's parchment features really crease up in pain.

'Pro bono publico?' he croaked.

'Oh, yes. You will certainly be working for the public good,' said William. 'And what is good for the public, of course, is good for you. Isn't that nice?'

'On the other hand,' said Mr Slant, 'perhaps it would be in the interests of everyone to put this sorry affair behind us, and I will be, uh, happy to donate my services.'

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Thank you. Mr Scrope is now Lo-- is now the Patrician?'

'Yes.'

'By the vote of the Guilds?'

'Yes. Of course.'

The unanimous vote?'

'I don't have to tell--'

William raised a finger. 'Ah?' he said.

Mr Slant squirmed. The Beggars and the Seamstresses voted to adjourn,' he said. 'So did the Launderers and the Guild of Exotic Dancers.'

'So... that would be Queen Molly, Mrs Palm, Mrs Manger and Miss Dixie Voom,' said William. 'What an interesting life Lord Vetinari must have led.'

'No comment.'

'And would you say Mr Scrope is looking forward to getting to grips with the manifold problems of running the city?'

Mr Slant considered this one. 'I think that may be the case,' he conceded.

'Not least of which is the fact that Lord Vetinari is, in fact, completely innocent? And that therefore there is a very large question mark over the appointment? Would you advise that he takes up his duties with several spare pairs of underpants? You don't have to answer that last one.'

'It is not my job to instruct the assembly of Guilds to reverse a legitimate decision, even if it turns out to have been based on... erroneous information. Nor is it my responsibility to advise Mr Scrope on his choice of undergarments.'

'See you tomorrow, Mr Slant,' said William.

William barely had time to undress and lie down before it was time to get up again. He washed as best he could, changed his shirt and went cautiously down to breakfast. He was in fact the first at the table.

There was the usual stolid silence as the other guests gathered. Most of Mrs Arcanum's boarders didn't bother to talk unless they had something to say. But when Mr Mackleduff sat down he pulled out a copy of the Times from his pocket.

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'Couldn't get the paper,' said Mr Mackleduff, shaking it open. 'So I got the other one,'

William coughed. 'Anything much in it?' he said. He could see his headline from where he sat, in huge bold caps:

DOG BITES MAN!

He'd made it news.

'Oh... Lord Vetinari got away with it,' said Mr Mackleduff.

'Well, of course he would,' said Mr Prone. 'Very clever man, whatever they say,'

'And his dog's all right,' said Mr Mackleduff. William wanted to shake the man for reading so slowly.

'That's nice,' said Mrs Arcanum, pouring out the tea.