The Truth

works fast when it thinks it is about to be cut in half.
    “Oh, if it’s a complaint you have, you have to take it up with the Complaints, Beheadings, and Horsewhippings Editor,” said William. “Mr. Rocky here.”
    “Dat’s me,” boomed Rocky cheerfully, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder. There was only room for three of his fingers. Brezock sagged.
    “I…just…want to say,” said Brezock, slowly, “that you put in I hit someone with a table. I never done that. What’d people think of me if they heard I go around hitting people with a table? What’d that do to my reputation?”
    “I see.”
    “I knifed him. A table’s a sissy weapon.”
    “We shall certainly print a correction,” said William, picking up his pencil.
    “You couldn’t add that I tore Slicer Gadley’s ear off with my teeth, could you? That’d make people sit up. Ears aren’t easy to do.”
    When they had all gone, Rocky to sit on a chair outside the door, William and Sacharissa stared at one another.
    “It’s been a very strange morning,” he said.
    “I’ve found out about the winter,” said Sacharissa. “And there was an unlicensed theft from a jewelry shop in the Artificers Street. They got quite a lot of silver.”
    “How did you find that out?”
    “One of the journeyman jewelers told me.” Sacharissa gave a little cough. “He, um, always comes to have a little chat with me when he sees me walking past.”
    “Really? Well done!”
    “And while I was waiting for you I had an idea. I got Gunilla to set this in type.” She shyly pushed a piece of paper across the desk.

    “It looks more impressive at the top of the page,” she said nervously. “What do you think?”
    “What are all the fruit salads and leaves and things?” said William.
    Sacharissa blushed. “I did that. A bit of unofficial engraving. I thought it might make it look…you know, high class and impressive. Er…do you like it?”
    “It’s very good,” said William hurriedly. “Very nice…er, cherries—”
    “Grapes.”
    “Yes, of course, I meant grapes. What’s the quote from? It’s very meaningful without, er, meaning anything very much.”
    “I think it’s just a quote,” said Sacharissa.

    Mr. Pin lit a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke into the still damp air of the wine cellar.
    “Now, it seems to me what we got here is a failure to communicate,” he said. “I mean, it’s not like we’re asking you to memorize a book or anything. You just got to look at Mr. Tulip here. Is this hard? Lots of people do it without any kinda special training.”
    “I sort of…l-l-lose my bottle,” said Charlie. His feet clanked against several empty ones.
    “Mr. Tulip is not a scary man,” said Mr. Pin. This was flying in the face of the current evidence, he had to admit. His partner had bought a twist of what the dealer had sworn was Devil Dust but which looked to Mr. Pin very much like powdered copper sulfate, and this had apparently reacted to the chemicals from the Slab which had been Mr. Tulip’s afternoon snack and turned one of his sinuses into a small bag of electricity. His right eye was spinning slowly, and sparks twinkled on his nasal hairs.
    “I mean, does he look scary?” Mr. Pin went on. “Remember, you are Lord Vetinari. Understand? You’re not going to take anything from some guard. If he talks back to you, just look at him.”
    “Like this, ” said Mr. Tulip, half his face flashing on and off.
    Charlie leapt back.
    “Not quite like that, perhaps,” said Mr. Pin. “But close.”
    “I don’t want to do this anymore!” Charlie wailed.
    “Ten thousand dollars, Charlie,” said Mr. Pin. “That’s a lot of money.”
    “I’ve heard of this Vetinari,” said Charlie. “If this goes wrong, he’ll have me thrown in the scorpion pit!”
    Mr. Pin spread his hands expansively. “Well, the scorpion pit isn’t as bad as it’s cracked up to be, you know?”
    “It’s a —ing picnic compared to me,” rumbled Mr. Tulip, his nose lighting up.
    Charlie’s eyes sought a way out. Unfortunately, one of them was cleverness. Mr. Pin hated the sight of Charlie trying to be clever. It was like watching a dog try to play the trombone.
    “I’m not doing it for ten thousand dollars,” he said. “I mean…you need me…”
    He let it hang in the air, which was very much what Mr. Pin was considering doing with Charlie.
    “We had a deal, Charlie,” he said mildly.
    “Yeah, well…I reckon there’s more money in