The Truth

missed. It got away.”
    “It’s only a dog,” Mr. Tulip grumbled. “What’s such a problem about a dog? It’s not like it’s a reliable —ing witness. They never told us about no —ing dog.” His ankle was beginning to get that hot, dark sensation that suggested that someone hadn’t been brushing their teeth lately. “You just try carrying a guy with a —ing dog snapping at your legs! And how come the —ing zombie never told us the guy was so —ing fast? If he hadn’t been staring at the geek he’d have —ing got me!”
    Mr. Pin shrugged. But he’d made a note of that. Mr. Slant had failed to tell the New Firm quite a lot of things, and one of them was that Vetinari moved like a snake.
    This was going to cost the lawyer a lot of money. Mr. Pin had nearly got cut.
    But he was proud of stabbing the clerk and shoving Charlie out of the landing to babble to the stupid servants. That hadn’t been in the script. That was the kind of service you got from the New Firm. He snapped his fingers as he walked. Yeah! They could react, they could extemporize, they could get creative…
    “Excuse me, gentlemen?”
    A figure had stepped out of the alleyway ahead of them, a knife in each hand.
    “Thieves’ Guild,” it said. “Excuse me? This is an official robbery.”
    To the surprise of the thief, Mr. Pin and Mr. Tulip seemed neither shocked nor frightened, despite the size of the knives. Instead, they looked like a pair of lepidopterists who’d stumbled across an entirely new kind of butterfly, and found it trying to wave a tiny little net.
    “Official robbery?” said Mr. Tulip, slowly.
    “Ah, you’re visitors to our fair city?” said the thief. “Then this is your lucky day, sir and…sir. A theft of twenty-five dollars entitles you to immunity from further street theft for a period of a full six months plus, for this week only, the choice of this handsome box of crystal wine glasses or a useful set of barbecue tools, which will be the envy of your friends.”
    “You mean…you’re legal?” said Mr. Pin.
    “What —ing friends?” said Mr. Tulip.
    “Yes, sir. Lord Vetinari feels that since there’ll always be some crime in the city, it might as well be organized.”
    Mr. Tulip and Mr. Pin looked at one another.
    “Well, ‘Legal’ is my middle name,” said Mr. Pin, shrugging. “Over to you, Mr. Tulip.”
    “And since you are newcomers, I can offer you an introductory hundred-dollar theft which will give you subsequent immunity for a full twenty-six months plus this booklet of restaurant, livery hire, clothing, and entertainment vouchers worth a full twenty-five dollars at today’s prices. Your neighbors will admire—”
    Mr. Tulip’s arm moved in a blur. One banana-bunch hand caught the thief around the neck and slammed his head against the wall.
    “Unfortunately, Mr. Tulip’s middle name is ‘Bastard,’” said Mr. Pin, lighting a cigarette. The meaty sounds of his colleague’s permanent anger continued behind him as he picked up the wineglasses and examined them critically.
    “Tch…cheap paste, not crystal at all,” he said. “Who can you trust these days? It makes you despair.”
    The body of the thief slumped to the ground.
    “I think I will go for the —ing barbecue set,” said Mr. Tulip, stepping over it. “I see here where it contains a number of oh-so-useful skewers and spatulas that will add a —ing new dimension of enjoyment to those Al Fresco patio meals.”
    He ripped open the box and dragged out a blue and white apron, which he examined critically.
    “‘Kill the Cook!!!’” he said, slipping it over his head. “Hey, this is classy stuff. I’ll have to get some —ing friends, so’s they can envy me when I’m having meals with —ing Al Fresco. How about them —ing vouchers?”
    “There’s never any good stuff in these things,” said Mr. Pin. “It’s just a way of shifting stuff no one can sell. See here…‘Twenty-five Percent Off Happy Hour Prices at Furby’s Castle of Cabbage’…” He tossed it aside.
    “Not bad, though,” said Mr. Tulip. “And he only had twenty dollars on him, so it’s a —ing bargain.”
    “I’ll be glad when we leave this place,” said Mr. Pin. “It’s too strange. Let’s just frighten the dead man and get out of here.”

    “Eyinnngg…GUT!”
    The cry of the wild newspaper seller rang out across the twilight square as William set off back to Gleam Street. They were still selling well, he could see.
    It