The Truth

it down, sir. All neat and correct. The actual words you say, right down there on the paper. And you know who I am, and if I get them wrong you know where to find me.”
    “So? You’re telling me that if I do what you want, you’ll do what you want?”
    “I’m saying, sir, that a lie can run round the world before the truth has got its boots on.”
    “Ha! Did you just make that up?”
    “No, sir. But you know it’s true.”
    Vimes sucked on his cigar.
    “And you’ll let me see what you’ve written?”
    “Of course. I’ll make sure you get one of the first papers off the press, sir.”
    “I meant before it gets published, and you know it.”
    “To tell you the truth, no, I don’t think I should do that, sir.”
    “I am the commander of the Watch, lad.”
    “Yes, sir. And I’m not. I think that’s my point, really, although I’ll work on it some more.”
    Vimes stared at him a little too long. Then, in a slightly different tone of voice, he said:
    “Lord Vetinari was seen by three cleaning maids of the household staff, all respectable ladies, after they were alerted by the barking of His Lordship’s dog at about seven o’clock this morning. He said” —here Vimes consulted his own notebook—“‘I’ve killed him, I’ve killed him, I’m sorry.’ They saw what looked very much like a body on the floor. Lord Vetinari was holding a knife. They ran downstairs to fetch someone. On their return, they found His Lordship missing. The body was that of Rufus Drumknott, the Patrician’s personal secretary. He had been stabbed and is seriously ill. A search of the buildings located Lord Vetinari in the stables. He was unconscious on the floor. A horse was saddled. The saddlebags contained…seventy thousand dollars…Captain, this is damn stupid .”
    “I know, sir,” said Carrot. “They are the facts, sir.”
    “But they’re not the right facts! They’re stupid facts!”
    “I know, sir. I can’t imagine His Lordship trying to kill anyone.”
    “Are you mad?” said Vimes. “I can’t imagine him saying sorry!”
    Vimes turned and glared at William, as if surprised to find him still there.
    “Yes?” he demanded.
    “Why was His Lordship unconscious, sir?”
    Vimes shrugged. “It looks as though he was trying to get on the horse. He’s got a game leg. Maybe he slipped—I can’t believe I’m saying this. Anyway, that’s your lot, understand?”
    “I’d like to get an iconograph of you, please,” William persisted.
    “Why?”
    William thought fast. “It will reassure the citizens that you are on the case and handling this personally, Commander. My iconographer is just downstairs. Otto!”
    “Good gods, a damn vamp—” Vimes began.
    “He’s a Black Ribboner, sir,” Carrot whispered. Vimes rolled his eyes.
    “Good mornink,” said Otto. “Do not movink, please, you are making a good pattern of light and shade.” He kicked out the legs of the tripod, peered into the iconograph, and raised a salamander in its cage.
    “Looking this way, please—”
    Click.
    WHOOMPH
    “—oh, shee-yut!”
    Dust floated to the floor. In the midst of it, a twist of black ribbon spiraled down.
    There was a moment of shocked silence. Then Vimes said, “What the hell happened just then?”
    “Too much flash, I think,” said William. He reached down with a trembling hand and retrieved a small square of card that was sticking out of the little gray cone of the late Otto Chriek.
    “DO NOT BE ALARMED,” he read. “The former bearer of this card has suffered a minor accident. You vill need a drop of blood from any species, and a dustpan and brush.”
    “Well, the kitchens are that way,” said Vimes. “Sort him out. I don’t want my men treading him in all over the damn place.”
    “One last thing, sir. Would you like me to say that if anyone saw anything suspicious they should tell you, sir?” said William.
    “In this town? We’d need every man on the Watch just to control the queue. Just you be careful what you write, that’s all.”
    The two watchmen strode away, Carrot giving William a wan smile as he passed.
    William busied himself in carefully scraping up Otto with two pages from his notebook and depositing the dust in the bag the vampire used to carry his equipment.
    Then it dawned on him that he was alone—Otto probably didn’t count at the moment—in the place with Commander Vimes’s permission to be there, if “the kitchens are over that way” could be parlayed into