The Truth

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.”
    “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 take 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.”

    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.
    “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 here, 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.
    “Is that it? ” said William.
    “Oh, there’s a lot of political stuff,” said Mr. Mackleduff. “It’s all a bit far-fetched.”
    “Any good vegetables today?” said Mr. Cartwright.
    Mr. Mackleduff carefully inspected the other pages.
    “No,” he said.
    “My firm are thinking of approaching that man to see if he’d let us sell his seeds for him,” Mr. Cartwright went on. “It’s just the sort of thing people like.” He caught Mrs. Arcanum’s eye. “Only those vegetables suitable for a family environment, of course,” he added quickly.
    “Aye, it does you good to laugh,” said Mr. Mackleduff solemnly.
    It crossed William’s mind to wonder if Mr. Wintler could grow an obscene pea. But of course he could.
    “I would have thought it’s quite important,” he said, “if Lord Vetinari isn’t guilty.”
    “Oh, yes, I daresay, to them as has to deal with these things,” said Mr. Mackleduff. “I don’t quite see where we come into it, though.”
    “But surely—” William began.
    Mrs. Arcanum patted her hair. “I’ve always thought Lord Vetinari was a most handsome man,” she said, and then looked flustered when they all stared at her. “I meant, I’m just a little surprised there isn’t a Lady Vetinari. As it were. Ahem.”
    “Oh well, you know what they say,” said Mr. Windling.
    A pair of arms shot out across the table, grabbed the surprised man by the lapels, and pulled him up so that his face was a few inches from William’s.
    “ I don’t know what they say, Mr. Windling!” he shouted. “But you know what they say, Mr. Windling! Why don’t