The Truth

'Ah, I said you were a gentleman,' said the Duck Man, pouring a tarry brown liquid into the mug. 'Milk in tea is an abomination.' He picked up, with a dainty gesture, a plate and pair of tongs. 'Slice of lemon?' he added.

'Lemon? You have lemon?'

'Oh, even Mr Ron here would rather wash under his arms than

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have anything but lemon in his tea,' said the Duck Man, plopping a slice into William's mug.

'And four sugars,' said Arnold Sideways.

William took a deep draught of the tea. It was thick and stewed, but it was also sweet and hot. And slightly lemony. All in all, he considered, it could have been much worse.

'Yes, we're very fortunate when it comes to slices of lemon,' said the Duck Man, busily fussing over the tea things. 'Why, it is indeed a bad day when we can't find two or three slices floating down the river.'

William stared fixedly at the river wall.

Spit or swallow, he thought, the eternal conundrum.

'Are you all right, Mr de Worde?'

'Mmf.'

'Too much sugar?'

'Mmf,'

'Not too hot?'

William gratefully sprayed the tea in the direction of the river.

'Ah!' he said. 'Yes! Too hot! That's what it was! Too hot! Lovely tea but - too hot! I'll just put the rest down here by my foot to cool down, shall I?'

He snatched up his pencil and pad.

'So... er, Wuffles, which man was it that you bit on the leg?'

Wuffles barked.

'He bit all of them,' said the voice of Deep Bone. 'When you're biting, why stop?'

'Would you know them if you bit them again?'

'He says he would. He says the big man tasted of... you know...' Deep Bone paused, 'like a... wossname... big, big bowl with hot water and soap in it.'

'A bath?'

Wuffles growled.

'That'd... be the word,' said Deep Bone. 'An' the other one smelled of cheap hair oil. And the one who looked like G-- like Lord Vetinari, he smelled of wine,'

'Wine?'

'Yes. Wuffles also says he'd like to apologize for biting you just

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now, but he got carried away with the recollection. We-- that is to say, dogs have very physical memories, if you see what I mean,'

William nodded and rubbed his leg. The description of the invasion of the Oblong Office had been carried out in a succession of yelps, barks and growls, with Wuffles running around in circles and snapping at his own tail until he bumped into William's ankle.

'And Ron's been carrying him around in his coat ever since?'

'No one bothers Foul Ole Ron,' said Deep Bone.

'I believe you,' said William. He nodded at Wuffles.

'I want to get an iconograph of him,' he said. This is... amazing stuff. But we must have a picture to prove I've really talked to Wuffles. Well... via an interpreter, obviously. I wouldn't want people to think this is one of the Inquirer's stupid "talking dog" stories...'

There was some muttering amongst the crew. The request was not being favourably received.

This is a select neighbourhood, you know,' said the Duck Man. 'We don't allow just anybody down here,'

'But there's a path running right under the bridge!' said William. 'Anyone could walk right past!'

'Werll, yerss,' said Coffin Henry. They could.' He coughed and spat with great expertise into the fire. 'Only they don't no more.'

'Bugrit,' explained Foul Ole Ron. 'Choking a tinker? Garn! I told 'em. Millennium hand and shrimp!'

Then you'd better come back to the office with me,' said William. 'After all, you've been carrying him around while you've been selling the papers, haven't you?'

Too dangerous now,' said Deep Bone.

'Would it be less dangerous for another fifty dollars?' said William.

'Another fifty dollars?' said Arnold Sideways. That'll make it fifteen dollars!'

'A hundred dollars,' said William wearily. 'You do realize, don't you, that this is in the public interest?'

The crew craned their necks.

'Don't see anyone watching,' said Coffin Henry.

William stepped forward, quite accidentally knocking over his tea.

'Come on, then,' he said.

249

Mr Tulip was beginning to worry now. This was unusual. In the area of worry, he had tended to be the cause rather than the recipient. But Mr Pin was not acting right, and since Mr Pin was the man who did the thinking this was a matter of some concern. Mr Tulip was good at thinking in split-seconds, and when it came to art appreciation he could easily think in centuries, but he was not happy over middle distances. He needed Mr Pin for that.

But Mr Pin was talking to himself, and kept staring at shadows.

'We'll be heading off now?' said Mr Tulip, in the hope of directing matters. 'We've got the --ing payment with a --ing big bonus, no --ing point in hanging around?'

He was also worried about the way Mr Pin had acted with the --ing lawyer. It wasn't like him to point a weapon at someone and then not use it. The New Firm didn't go round threatening people. They were the threat. All that --ing stuff about 'letting you live for today'... that was amateur stuff.

'I said, are we heading--'

'What do you think happens to people when they die, Tulip?'

Mr Tulip was taken aback. 'What kind of --ing question is that? You &«owwhat happens!'

'Do I?'