The Truth

'Mere superstition!' said Otto. 'All zat possibly happens is that a subject's own morphic signature aligns zer resons, or thing-particles, in phase-space according to zer Temporal Relevance Theory, creating zer effect of multiple directionless vindows vich intersect vith the illusion of zer present and create metaphoric

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images according to zer dictates of qvasi-historical extrapolation. You see? Nothing mysterious about it at all!'

'It certainly frightened off those people,' said William.

'It was the axes that did that,' said Goodmountain firmly.

'No, it was the feeling that the top of your head has been opened and icicles have been pounded into your brain,' said William.

Goodmountain blinked. 'Yeah, okay, that too,' he said, mopping his forehead. 'You've got a way with words, right enough...'

A shadow appeared in the doorway. Goodmountain grabbed his axe.

William groaned. It was Vimes. Worse, he was smiling, in a humourless predatory way.

'Ah, Mr de Worde,' he said, stepping inside. There are several thousand dogs stampeding through the city at the moment. This is an interesting fact, isn't it?'

He leaned against the wall and produced a cigar. 'Well, I say dogs,' he said, striking a match on Goodmountain's helmet. 'Mostly dogs, perhaps I should say. Some cats. More cats now, in fact, 'cos, hah, there's nothing like a, yes, a tidal wave of dogs, fighting and biting and howling, to sort of, how can I put it, give a city a certain... busyness. Especially underfoot, because - did I mention it? -they're very nervous dogs too. Oh, and did I mention cattle?' he went on, conversationally. 'You know how it is, market day and so on, people are driving the cows and, my goodness, around the corner comes a wall of wailing dogs... Oh, and I forgot about the sheep. And the chickens, although I imagine there's not much left of the chickens now

He stared at William. 'Anything you feel you want to tell me?' he said.

'Uh... we had a bit of a problem...'

'Never! Really? Do tell!'

'The dogs took fright when Mr Chriek took a picture of them,' said William. This was absolutely true. Dark light was frightening enough even if you knew what was happening.

Vimes glared at Otto, who looked miserably at his feet.

'Well now,' said Vimes. 'Shall I tell you something? They're electing a new Patrician today--'

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'Who?' said William.

',' don't know,' said Vimes.

Sacharissa blew her nose and said: 'It'll be Mr Scrope, of the Shoemakers and Leatherworkers.'

Vimes gave William a suspicious look. 'How do you know that?' he said.

'Everyone knows,' said Sacharissa. 'That's what the young man in the bakery said this morning.'

'Oh, where would we be without rumour?' said Vimes. 'So this is not a day, Mr de Worde, for... things to go wrong. My men are talking to some of the people who brought dogs along. Not many of them, I have to admit. Most of them don't want to talk to the Watch. Can't think why, we're very good listeners. Now is there anything you want to tell me?' Vimes looked around the room and back to William. 'Everyone's staring at you, I notice.'

The Times does not need any help from the Watch,' said William.

'Helping wasn't what I had in mind.'

'We haven't done anything wrong.'

'I'll decide that.'

'Really? That's an interesting point of view.'

Vimes glanced down. William had taken his notebook out of his pocket. 'Oh,' he said. 'I see.' He reached down to his own belt and pulled out a blunt, dark length of wood.

'You know what this is?' he said.

'It's a truncheon,' said William. 'A big stick.'

'Always the last resort, eh?' said Vimes evenly. 'Rosewood and Llamedos silver, a lovely piece of work. And it says on this little plate here that I'm supposed to keep the peace, and you, Mr de Worde, don't look like part of that right now.'

They locked gazes.

'What was the odd thing Lord Vetinari did just before the... accident?' said William, so quietly that probably only Vimes heard it.

Vimes didn't even blink. But after a moment he laid the truncheon down on the desk, with a click that sounded unnaturally loud in the silence.

'Now you put your notebook down, lad,' he suggested, in a quiet

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voice. That way, it's just me and you. No... clash of symbols.'

This time, William could see where the path of wisdom lay. He put down the book.

'Right,' said Vimes. 'And now you and me are going to go over to the corner there, while your friends tidy up. Amazing, isn't it, how much furniture can get broken, just by taking a picture?'

He went and sat down on an upturned washtub. William made do with a rocking horse.

'All right, Mr de Worde, we'll do this your way,' said Vimes.

'I didn't know I had a way.'

'You're not going to tell me what you know, are you?'

'I'm not sure what I know,' said William. 'But I... think... Lord Vetinari did something remarkable not long before the crime.'

Vimes pulled out his own notebook and thumbed through it.

'He entered the palace by the stables some time before seven o'clock and dismissed the guard,' he said.

'He'd been out all night?'