The Truth (42 page)

“Really?”

“Right now!” screamed William, so loud that Lord de Worde rocked backwards. “Have you gone deaf as well as insane? Right now and don’t come back, because if you do I’ll publish
every
damn word you’ve just said!” William pulled the Dis-organizer out of his pocket. “Every damn word! D’you hear me? And not even Mr. Slant will be able to grease your way out of that! You even had the arrogance, the stupid
arrogance,
to use our house! How dare you! Get out of the city! And either draw that sword or take…your…hand…off…it!”

He stopped, red-faced and panting.

“The truth has got its boots on,” he said. “It’s going to start kicking.” His eyes narrowed. “
I told you to take your hand off that sword!
”

“So silly, so silly. And I believed you were my son…”

“Ah, yes. I nearly forgot that,” said William, now rocketing on rage. “You know one of the customs of the dwarfs? No, of course you don’t, because they’re not really people, are they? But I know one or two of them, you see, and so…” He pulled a velvet bag out of his pocket and threw it down in front of his father.

“And this is…?” said Lord de Worde.

“There’s more than twenty thousand dollars in there, as close as a couple of experts could estimate,” said William. “I didn’t have a lot of time to work it out and I didn’t want you to think I was being unfair, so I’ve erred on the generous side. That must cover everything I’ve cost you, over the years. School fees, clothes, everything. I have to confess you didn’t make such a good job of it, given that I’m the end result. I’m buying myself off you, you see.”

“Oh, I see. The dramatic gesture. Do you really think that family is a matter of
money?
” said Lord de Worde.

“We-ll,
yes,
according to history. Money, land, and titles,” said William. “It’s amazing how often we failed to marry
anyone
who didn’t have at least two out of three.”

“Cheap jibe. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know if I do,” said William. “But I do know I got that money a few hours ago off a man who tried to kill me.”

“Tried to kill you?” For the first time, there was a note of uncertainty.

“Why, yes. You’re surprised?” said William. “If you throw something into the air, don’t you have to worry about where it bounces?”

“Indeed you do,” said Lord de Worde. He sighed and made a little hand signal, and William saw shadows detach themselves from deeper shadows. And he remembered that you couldn’t run the de Worde estates without a lot of hired help, in every department of life. Hard men in little round hats, who knew how to evict and distrain and set mantraps…

“You have been overdoing it, I can see,” said his father, as they advanced. “I think you need…yes, a long sea voyage. The Isles of Fog, perhaps, or possibly Fourecks. Or Bhangbhangduc. There’s fortunes to be made there, I understand, by young men prepared to get their hands dirty. Certainly there’s nothing for you here…nothing good.”

William made out four figures now. He’d seen them around on the estates. They tended to have one-word names, like Jenks or Clamper, and no visible pasts at all.

One of them said, “Now, if you’ll just see a bit o’sense, Mr. William, we can all do this nice and quiet…”

“Small sums of money will be sent to you periodically,” said Lord de Worde. “You will be able to live in a style which—”

A few wisps of dust spiraled down from the shadowy ceiling, twirling like sycamore leaves.

They landed next to the velvet bag.

Overhead, a shrouded chandelier jingled gently. William looked up.

“Oh, no,” he said. “Please…don’t kill anyone!”

“What?” said Lord de Worde.

Otto Chriek dropped to the floor, hands raised like talons.

“Good evening!” he said to a shocked bailiff. He looked at his hand. “Oh, vot am I thinking of!” He bunched his fists, and danced from foot to foot. “Put zem up in the traditional Ankh-Morpork pugilism!”

“Put them up?” said the man, raising a cudgel. “Blow that!”

A jab from Otto lifted him off his feet. He landed on his back, spinning, and slid away across the polished floor. Otto spun around so fast that he blurred, and there was a smack as another man went down.

“Vot’s this? Vot’s this? I’m using your civilized fisticuffs, and you don’t vant to fight?” he said, springing back and forth like an amateur boxer. “Ah, you, sir, you show fight—” The fists blurred into invisibility and pummeled a man like a punchbag. Otto straightened up as the man fell, and absentmindedly punched sideway to catch the charging fourth man on the chin. The man actually spun in the air.

This happened in a few seconds. And then William got enough of a grip to shout a warning. He was too late.

Otto looked down at the length of sword blade sticking too far into his chest.

“Oh, vill you look at zis,” he said. “You know, in zis job I just cannot make a shirt last two days?”

He turned to Lord de Worde, who was backing away, and cracked his knuckles.

“Keep it away from me!” barked His Lordship.

William shook his head.

“Oh, yes?” said Otto, still advancing. “You think I am an
it?
Vell, let me act like an
it
.”

He grabbed Lord de Worde’s jacket and held him up in the air, with one hand, at arm’s length.

“Ve have people like you back home,” he said. “Zey are the ones that tell the mob vot to do. I come here to Ankh-Morpork, zey tell me things are different, but really it is alvays the same. Always zere are damn people like you! And now, vot shall I do with you?”

He wrenched at his own jacket, and tossed the black ribbon aside.

“I never liked zer damn cocoa anyvay,” he said.

“Otto!”

The vampire turned.

“Yes, Villiam? Vot is it you vish?”

“That’s going too far.” Lord de Worde had gone pale. William had never seen him so obviously frightened before.

“Oh? You say? You think I
bite
him? Shall I bite you, Mister Lordship? Vell, maybe not, because Villiam here thinks I am a good person.” He pulled Lord de Worde close, so their faces were a few inches apart. “Now, maybe I have to ask myself,
how
good am I? Or maybe I just have to ask myself…amI better zan you?” He hesitated for a second or two, and then in a sudden movement jerked the man towards him.

With great delicacy, he planted a kiss on Lord de Worde’s forehead. Then he put the trembling man back down on the floor and patted him on the head.

“Actually, maybe zer cocoa is not
too
bad and zer young lady who plays zer harmonium, sometimes she vinks at me,” he said, stepping aside.

Lord de Worde opened his eyes and looked at William.

“How dare you—”

“Shut up,” said William. “Now I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen. I’m not going to name names. That’s my decision. I don’t want my mother to have been married to a traitor, you see. Then there’s Rupert. And my sisters. And me, too. I’m protecting the name. That’s probably very wrong of me, and I’m going to do it anyway. I’m going to disobey you one more time, in fact. I won’t tell the truth. Not the whole truth. Besides, those who want to know these things will find out soon enough. And I daresay they’ll sort it out quietly. You know…just like you do.”

“Traitor?” whispered Lord de Worde.

“That is what people would say.”

Lord de Worde nodded, like a man caught in an unpleasant dream.

“I could not possibly take the money,” he said. “I wish you joy of it,
my son
. Because…you are most
certainly
a de Worde. Good day to you.” He turned and walked away. After a few seconds, the distant door creaked open and shut quietly.

William staggered to a pillar. He
was
shaking. He replayed the meeting in his head. His brain hadn’t touched the ground the whole time.

“Are you okay, Villiam?” said Otto.

“I feel sick. But…yeah, I’m all right. Of all the boneheaded, stubborn, self-centered, arrogant—”

“But you make up for it in other vays,” said Otto.

“I
meant
my father.”

“Oh.”

“He’s just so certain he’s in the right all the time—”

“Sorry, this is still your father ve’re talking about?”

“Are you saying I’m
like
him?”

“Oh, no. Qvite different. Absolutely qvite different. No similarities votsoever.”

“You didn’t need to go that far!” He stopped. “Did I say ‘thank you’?”

“No, you did not.”

“Oh dear.”

“No, you
noticed
that you didn’t, so zat is okay,” said Otto. “Every day, in every vay, ve get better and better. By the vay, vould you mind pulling this sword out of me? Vot kind of idiot just stick it in vampire? All it does is mess up zer linen.”

“Let me help—” William gingerly withdrew the blade.

“Can I put zis on my expenses?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good. And now it is all over and time for rewards and medals,” said the vampire cheerfully, adjusting his jacket. “So vhere are your troubles now?”

“Just starting,” said William. “I think I’m going to be seeing the inside of the Watch House in less than an hour.”

In fact it was forty-three minutes later that William de Worde was Helping the Watch, as they say, with Their Inquiries.

On the other side of the table Commander Vimes was carefully rereading the
Times
. He was, William knew, taking longer than necessary in order to make him nervous.

“I can help you with any long words you don’t recognize,” he volunteered.

“It’s very good,” said Vimes, ignoring this. “But I need to know more. I need to know the
names
. I think you know the
names.
Where did they meet? Things like that. I need to know them.”

“Some things are a mystery to me,” said William. “You’ve got more than enough evidence to release Lord Vetinari.”

“I want to know more.”

“Not from me.”

“Come
on
Mr. de Worde. We’re on the same side here!”

“No. We’re just on two different sides that happen to be side by side.”

“Mr. de Worde, earlier today you assaulted one of my officers. Do you know how much trouble you are in already?”

“I expected better of you than that, Mr. Vimes,” said William. “Are you saying I assaulted an officer in uniform? An officer who identified themselves to me?”

“Be careful, Mr. de Worde.”

“I was being followed by a werewolf, Commander. I took steps to…inconvenience it so that I could get away. Would you like to debate this publicly?”

I’m being an arrogant, lying, supercilious bastard, thought William. And I’m
good
at it.

“Then you give me no choice but to arrest you for concealing—”

“I demand a lawyer,” said William.

“Really? And who did you have in mind at this time of night?”

“Mr. Slant.”

“
Slant?
You think he’ll come out for
you?
”

“No. I
know
he’ll come out. Believe me.”

“Oh, he
will,
will he?”

“Trust me.”

“Come now,” said Vimes, smiling. “Do we need this? It’s the duty of every citizen to help the Watch, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I know the
Watch
think it is. I’ve never seen it written down,” said William. “Then again, I never knew it was the right of the Watch to spy on innocent people.”

He saw the smile freeze.

“It was for your own good,” Vimes growled.

“I didn’t know it was your job to decide what was good for me.”

This time Vimes won a small prize. “I’m not going to be led, either,” he said. “But I have reason to believe that you are withholding information about a major crime, and that
is
an offense. That’s against the law.”

“Mr. Slant will come up with something. There’s some precedent, I’ll bet. He’ll go back hundreds of years. The Patricians have always set great store by precedent. Mr. Slant will dig and dig. For
years
if necessary. That’s how he got where he is today, by digging.”

Vimes leaned forward. “Between you and me, and without your notebook,” he muttered, “Mr. Slant is a devious dead bastard who can bend such law as we have into a puzzle ring.”

“Yep,” said William. “And he’s my lawyer. I guarantee it.”

“Why would Mr. Slant speak up on
your
behalf?” said Vimes, staring at William.

William matched him eyeball for eyeball. It’s true, he thought. I’m my father’s son. All I have to do is
use
it.

“Because he’s a very fair man?” he said. “Now, are you going to send a runner to fetch him? Because if you’re not, you’ve got to let me go.”

Without taking his gaze off William, Vimes reached down and unhooked a speaking tube from the side of his desk. He whistled into it, and then put it to his ear. There was a sound like a mouse pleading for mercy at the other end of a drainpipe.

“Yata whipsie poitl swup?”

Vimes put the tube to his mouth. “Sergeant, send someone up to take Mr. de Worde down to the cells, will you?”

“Swyddle yumyumpwipwipwip?”

Vimes sighed, and hooked up the pipe again. He got up and opened the door.

“Fred, send someone to take Mr. de Worde down to the cells, will you?” he yelled. “I’m calling it protective custody for now,” he added, turning to William.

“Protecting me from whom?”

“Well, I personally have an overwhelming urge to give you a ding alongside the ear,” said Vimes. “But I suspect there are others out there without my self-control.”

It was in fact quite peaceful in the cells. The bunk was comfortable. The walls were covered with graffiti, and William passed the time correcting the spelling.