The Truth

“There’s a puzzle. I mean, why peppermint? And then I thought, maybe someone didn’t want to be traced by their smell? Perhaps they’d heard about your werewolf, too? A few jars of peppermint oil thrown down would confuse things a bit?”
    There it was, a faint flicker as Vimes glanced momentarily at some paperwork in front of him. Lotto! thought William. *
    At last, like some oracle that speaks once a year, Vimes said, “I don’t trust you, Mr. de Worde. And I’ve just realized why. It’s not just that you’re going to cause trouble. Dealing with trouble is my job, it’s what I’m paid for, that’s why they give me an armor allowance. But who are you responsible to? I have to answer for what I do, although right now I’m damned if I know who to. But you? It seems to me you can do what the hell you like.”
    “I suppose I’m answerable to the truth, sir.”
    “Oh, really? How, exactly?”
    “Sorry?”
    “If you tell lies, does the Truth come and smack you in the face? I’m impressed. Ordinary everyday people like me are responsible to other people. Even Vetinari always had—has one eye on the Guilds. But you… you are answerable to the Truth. Amazing. What’s its address? Does it read the paper?”
    “She, sir,” said Sergeant Angua. “There’s a goddess of Truth, I believe.”
    “Can’t have many followers, then,” said Vimes. “Except our friend here.” He stared at William again over the top of his fingers, and once again the wheels turned.
    “Supposing…just supposing…you came into possession of a line drawing of a dog,” he said. “Could you print it in your paper?”
    “We are talking about Wuffles, are we?” said William.
    “Could you?”
    “I’m sure I could.”
    “We would be interested in knowing why he barked just before the…event,” said Vimes.
    “And if you could find him, Corporal Nobbs could speak to him in dog language, yes?” said William.
    Once again, Vimes did his impression of a statue.
    “We could get a drawing of the dog to you in an hour,” he said. “Thank you. Who is running the city at the moment, Commander?”
    “I’m just a copper,” said Vimes. “They don’t tell me these things. But I imagine a new Patrician will be elected. It’s all laid down in the city statutes.”
    “Who can tell me more about them?” said William, mentally adding, “Just a copper” my bum!
    “Mr. Slant is your man there,” said Vimes, and this time he smiled. “Very helpful, I believe. Good afternoon, Mr. de Worde. Sergeant, show Mr. de Worde out, will you?”
    “I want to see Lord Vetinari,” said William.
    “You what? ”
    “It’s a reasonable request, sir.”
    “No. Firstly, he is still unconscious. Secondly, he is my prisoner.”
    “Aren’t you even letting a lawyer see him?”
    “I think His Lordship is in enough trouble already, lad.”
    “What about Drumknott? He isn’t a prisoner, is he?”
    Vimes glanced up at Sergeant Angua, who shrugged.
    “All right. There’s no law against that, and we can’t have people saying he’s dead,” he said. He unhooked a speaking tube from a brass-and-leather construction on his desk and hesitated.
    “Have they got that problem sorted out, Sergeant?” he said, ignoring William.
    “Yes, sir. The pneumatic message system and the speaking tubes are definitely separated now.”
    “Are you sure? You do know Constable Keenside had all his teeth knocked out yesterday?”
    “They say it can’t happen again, sir.”
    “Well, obviously it can’t. He hasn’t got any more teeth. Oh, well…” Vimes picked up the tube, held it away from him for a moment, and then spoke into it.
    “Put me through to the cells, will you?”
    “Wizzip? Wipwipwip?”
    “Say again?”
    “Sneedle flipsock?”
    “This is Vimes!”
    “Scitscrit?”
    Vimes put the tube back on its cradle and stared at Sergeant Angua.
    “They’re still working on it, sir,” she said. “They say rats have been nibbling at the tubes.”
    “Rats?”
    “I’m afraid so, sir.”
    Vimes groaned and turned to William.
    “Sergeant Angua will take you to the cells,” he said.
    And then William was on the other side of the door.
    “Come on,” said the sergeant.
    “How did I do?” said William.
    “I’ve seen worse.”
    “Sorry to mention Corporal Nobbs, but—”
    “Oh, don’t worry about it,” said Sergeant Angua. “Your powers of observation will be the talk of the station. Look, he’s being kind to you because he hasn’t