The Truth

you did it for the best. And now I want it bricked up, properly. I want the hole to look as though it had never been there, thank you. I don’t want anyone coming up the cellar ladder that didn’t climb down it. Right now, please!”
    “I think I’m onto a real story,” said William, as the disgruntled dwarfs filed away. “I think I’m going to see Wuffles. I’ve got—”
    As he pulled out his notebook something dropped onto the floor with a tinkle.
    “Oh, yes…and I got the key to our town house,” he said. “You wanted a dress…”
    “It’s a bit late,” said Sacharissa. “I’d forgotten all about it, to tell the truth.”
    “Why not go and have a look while everyone else is busy? You could take Rocky, too. You know…to be on the safe side. But the place is empty. My father stays at his club if he has to come to town. Go on. There’s got to be more to life than correcting copy.”
    Sacharissa looked uncertainly at the key in her hand.
    “My sister has quite a lot of dresses,” said William. “You want to go to the ball, don’t you?”
    “I suppose Mrs. Hotbed could adjust it for me if I take it to her in the morning,” said Sacharissa, expressing mildly peeved reluctance while her body language begged to be persuaded.
    “That’s right,” said William. “And I’m sure you can find someone to do your hair properly.”
    Sacharissa’s eyes narrowed. “It’s true, you know, you have got an amazing way with words,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
    “I’m going,” said William, “to see a dog about a man.”

    Sergeant Angua peered up at Vimes through the steam from the bowl in front of her.
    “Sorry about this, sir,” she said.
    “His feet won’t touch the ground,” said Vimes.
    “You can’t arrest him, sir,” said Captain Carrot, putting a fresh towel over Angua’s head.
    “Oh? Can’t arrest him for assaulting an officer, eh?”
    “Well, that’s where it gets tricky, doesn’t it, sir,” said Angua.
    “You’re an officer, Sergeant, whatever shape you happen to be currently in!”
    “Yes, but…it’s always been a bit convenient to let the werewolf thing stay a rumor, sir,” said Carrot. “Don’t you think so? Mr. de Worde writes things down. Angua and I aren’t particularly keen on that. Those who need to know, know.”
    “Then I’ll ban him from doing it!”
    “How, sir?”
    Vimes looked a little deflated.
    “You can’t tell me that as commander of police I can’t stop some little ti—some idiot from writing down anything he likes?”
    “Oh, no, sir. Of course you can. But I’m not sure you can stop him writing down that you stopped him writing things down,” said Carrot.
    “I’m amazed. Amazed! She’s your…your—”
    “Friend,” said Angua, taking another deep sniff of the steam. “But Carrot’s right, Mister Vimes. I don’t want this going any further. It was my fault for underestimating him. I walked right into it. I’ll be fine in an hour or two.”
    “I saw what you were like when you came in,” said Vimes. “You were a mess.”
    “It was a shock. The nose just shuts down. It was like walking around a corner and running into Foul Ole Ron.”
    “Ye gods! That bad?”
    “Maybe not quite as bad as that. Let it lie, sir. Please.”
    “He’s a quick learner, our Mr. de Worde,” said Vimes, sitting down at his desk. “He’s got a pen and a printing press and everyone acts like he’s suddenly a major player. Well, he’s going to have to learn a bit more. He doesn’t want us watching? Well, we won’t anymore. He can reap what he sows for a while. We’ve got more than enough other things to do, heavens know.”
    “But he is technically—”
    “See this sign on my desk, Captain? See it, Sergeant? It says ‘Commander Vimes.’ That means the buck starts here. It was a command you just got. Now, what else is new?”
    Carrot nodded. “Nothing good, sir. No one’s found the dog. The Guilds are all battening down. Mr. Scrope has been getting a lot of visitors. Oh, and High Priest Ridcully is telling everyone that he thinks Lord Vetinari went mad, because the day before he’d been telling him about a plan to make lobsters fly through the air.”
    “Lobsters flying through the air,” said Vimes flatly.
    “And something about sending ships by semaphore, sir.”
    “Oh dear. And what is Mr. Scrope saying?”
    “Apparently he says he’s looking forward to a new era in our history and will put Ankh-Morpork back