The Truth

The old towpath had been deserted to start with, but Foul Ole Ron and the rest of them were the reason that it stayed that way. They had nothing to steal. They had precious little even to keep. Occasionally the Beggars' Guild considered running them out of town, but without much enthusiasm. Even beggars need someone to look down on, and the crew were so far down that in a certain light they sometimes appeared to be on top. Besides, the Guild recognized craftsmanship when they saw it; no one could spit and ooze like Coffin Henry, no one could be as legless as Arnold Sideways and nothing in the world could smell like Foul Ole Ron. He could have used oil of scallatine as a deodorant.

And, as that thought tripped through William's brain, he knew where Wuffles was. I

Trixiebell's ridiculous pink tail disappeared into the mass of old packing cases and cardboard known variously to the crew as 'What?', 'Bugrit!', Ttooi!' and Home.

William's eyes were already watering. There wasn't much breeze down here. He made his way to the pool of firelight.

'Oh... good evening, gentlemen,' he managed, nodding to the figures around the green-edged flames.

'Let's see the colour of your bit of paper,' commanded the voice of Deep Bone, from out of the shadows.

'It's, er, off-white,' said William, unfolding the cheque. It was taken by the Duck Man, who scanned it carefully and added noticeably to its off-whiteness.

'It seems to be in order. Fifty dollars, signed,' he said. 'I have explained the concept to my associates, Mr de Worde. It was not easy, I have to tell you.'

'Yeah, and if you don't put up we'll come to your house!' said Coffin Henry.

240

'Er... and do what?' said William.

'Stand outside for ever and ever and ever!' said Arnold Sideways.

'Lookin' at people in a funny way,' said the Duck Man.

'Gobbin' on their boots!' said Coffin Henry.

William tried not to think about Mrs Arcanum. He said: 'Now can I see the dog?'

'Show him, Ron,' commanded the voice of Deep Bone.

Ron's heavy coat fell open, revealing Wuffles blinking in the firelight.

'You had him?' said William. That was all there was to it?'

'Bugrit!'

'Who's going to search Foul Ole Ron?' said Deep Bone.

'Good point,' said William. 'Very good point. Or smell him out.'

'Now, you got to remember he's old,' said Deep Bone. 'An' he wasn't exactly Mr Brain to start with. I mean, we're talkin' dogs here - not talking dogs,' said the voice hurriedly, 'but talking about dogs, I mean - so don't expect a philosophical treatise, is what I'm sayin'.'

Wuffles begged geriatrically when he saw William looking at him.

'How did he come to be with you?' said William as Wuffles sniffed his hand.

'He came running out of the palace straight under Ron's coat,' said Deep Bone.

'Which is, as you point out, the last place anyone would look,' said William.

'You'd better believe it,'

'And not even a werewolf would find him there.' William took out his notebook, turned to a fresh page, and wrote: 'Wuffles,' He said, 'How old is he?'

Wuffles barked.

'Sixteen,' said Deep Bone. 'Is that important?'

'It's a newspaper thing,' said William. He wrote: 'Wuffles (16), formerly of The Palace, Ankh-Morpork,'

I'm interviewing a dog, he thought. Man Interviews Dog. That's nearly news.

'So... er, Wuffles, what happened before you ran out of the palace?' he said.

241

Deep Bone, from his hiding place, whined and growled. Wuffles cocked an ear and then growled back.

'He woke up and experienced a moment of horrible philosophical uncertainty,' said Deep Bone.

'I thought you said--'

'I'm translating right? And this was on account of there being two Gods in the room. That's two Lord Vetinaris, Wuffles being an old-fashioned kind of dog. But he knew one was wrong because he smelled wrong. And there were two other men. And then--'

William scribbled furiously.

Twenty seconds later Wuffles bit him hard on the ankle.

The clerk in Mr Slant's front office looked down from his high desk at the two visitors, sniffed and carried on with his laborious copperplate. He did not have a lot of time for the notion of customer service. The Law could not be hurried--

A moment later his head was rammed into the desktop and held down by some enormous weight.

Mr Pin's face appeared in his limited vision.

'I said,' said Mr Pin, 'that Mr Slant wants to see us...'

'Sngh,' said the clerk. Mr Pin nodded and the pressure was relieved slightly.

'Sorry? You were saying?' said Mr Pin, watching the man's hand creep along the edge of the desk.

'He's... not... seeing... anyone...' The words ended in a muffled yelp.

Mr Pin leaned down. 'Sorry about the fingers,' he said, 'but we can't have them naughty little things creeping to that little lever there, can we? No telling what might happen if you pulled that lever. Now... which one's Mr Slant's office?'

'Second... door... on... left...' the man groaned.

'See? It's so much nicer when we're polite. And in a week, two at the outside, you'll be able to pick up a pen again.' Mr Pin nodded to Mr Tulip, who let the man go. He slithered to the floor.