‘Even so—’
‘Don’t argue with me!’
Goodmountain didn’t dare. There was a look in William’s face. The boy had frozen when he was listening to the box, and now he’d unfrozen into … someone else.
Someone a lot more touchy and a lot less patient. He looked as though he was running a fever.
‘Now … where was I?’
‘“Once inside”…’ said the dwarf.
‘Okay … “Once inside” … no … Make it: “The Times understands that Lord Vetinari was” — Sacharissa, you said the man in the cellar looked just like Vetinari?’
‘Yes. Haircut and everything.’
‘Right. “The Times understands that Lord Vetinari was overwhelmed in the moment of shock on seeing himself entering his office”—’
‘Do we understand that?’ said Sacharissa.
‘Yes. It makes sense. Who’s going to argue? Where was I … “Their plan was foiled by Lord Vetinari’s dog, Wuffles (16), who attacked both men.” Paragraph. “The noise of this attracted the attention of Lord Vetinari’s clerk, Rufus Drumknott” — damn, I forgot to ask him how old he was — “who was then knocked unconscious.” Paragraph. “The attackers tried to put the interruption to good use in their” — what’s the good word? Oh, yes — “their dastardly plan and stabbed Drumknott with one of Lord Vetinari’s own daggers in an attempt to make it look as if he was insane or murderous.” Paragraph. “Acting with vicious cunning”—’
‘You’re getting really good at this,’ said Sacharissa.
‘Don’t interrupt him,’ hissed Boddony. ‘I want to find out what the dastards did next!’
‘—“with vicious cunning they forced the bogus Lord Vetinari”—’
‘Good word, good word,’ said Goodmountain, setting furiously.
‘Are you certain about “forced”?’ said Sacharissa.
‘They aren’t— they weren’t the kind of men who ask nicely,’ said William brusquely. ‘Er … “forced the bogus Lord Vetinari … to make a false confession to some servants who were attracted by the noise. Then all three, carrying the unconscious Lord Vetinari and harried by the dog, Wuffles (16), took the stairs to the stables.” Paragraph. “There they had set up a scene to suggest that Lord Vetinari had been trying to rob the city, as already reported in”—’
‘“Exclusively in”,’ Sacharissa said.
‘Right, “exclusively in the Times.” Paragraph. “However, the dog Wuffles escaped and began a citywide search by Watch and criminals alike. He was found by a group of public-spirited citizens, who”—’
A piece of type dropped from Goodmountain’s fingers. ‘You mean Foul Ole Ron and that bunch?’
‘—“public-spirited citizens”,’ William repeated, nodding furiously, ‘“who kept him hidden, while”—’
Cold winter storms had the whole of the Sto Plains in which to build up speed. By the time they hit Ankh-Morpork they were fast and heavy and laden with malice.
This time it took the form of hail. Fist-sized balls of ice smashed into tiles. They blocked gutters and filled the streets with shrapnel.
They hammered on the roof of the warehouse in Gleam Street. One or two windows smashed.
William paced up and down, shouting out his words above the force of the storm, occasionally flicking back and forth through the pages of his notebook. Otto came out and handed the dwarfs a couple of iconograph plates. The crew limped and sidled in, ready for the edition.
William stopped. The last letters clicked into place.
‘Let’s see what it looks like so far,’ said William.
Goodmountain inked the type, put a piece of paper over the story and ran a hand-roller over it. Wordlessly, he handed it to Sacharissa.
‘Are you sure of all this, William?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘I mean, some bits — are you sure it’s all true?’
‘I’m sure it’s all journalism,’ said William.
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
‘It means it’s true enough for now.’
‘But do you know the names of these people?’
William hesitated. Then he said:
‘Mr Goodmountain, you can insert an extra paragraph anywhere in the story, can’t you?’
‘That’s not a problem.’
‘Right. Then set this: “The Times can reveal that the assassins were hired by a group of prominent citizens led by” … “The Times can reveal that” …’ He took a deep breath. ‘Start again: “The plotters, the Times can reveal, were headed by”…’ William shook his head. ‘“Evidence points to” … uh … “Evidence, the Times can reveal” … “All the evidence, the Times can reveal … can reveal …”’ His voice trailed off.
‘This is going to be a long paragraph?’ said Goodmountain.
William stared miserably at the damp proof.
‘No,’ he said wretchedly. ‘I think that’s it. Let it go at that. Put in a line saying that the Times will be helping the Watch with its inquiries.’
‘Why? We’re not guilty of anything, are we?’ said Goodmountain.
‘Just do it, please.’ William screwed the proof into a ball, tossed it on to a bench and wandered off towards the press.
Sacharissa found him a few minutes later. A print room offers a mass of holes and corners, mostly used by those whose duties require the occasional bunk-off for a quiet smoke. William was sitting on a pile of paper, staring at nothing.
‘Is there something you want to talk about?’ she said.
‘No.’
‘Do you know who the conspirators are?’
‘No.’
‘Then would it be true to say that you suspect you know who the conspirators are?’
He gave her an angry look. ‘Are you trying journalism on me?’
‘I’m just supposed to try it on everyone else, then, am I? Not you, then?’ she said, sitting down beside him.
William absent-mindedly pressed a button on the Dis-organizer.
‘Wheeewheedle the truth has got its boots on …’
‘You don’t get on very well with your father, is tha—’ Sacharissa began.
‘What am I supposed to do?’ said William. ‘That’s his favourite saying. He says it proves how gullible people are. Those men had the run of our house. He’s in this up to his neck!’
‘Yes, but perhaps he just did it as a favour to some other—’
‘If my father is involved in anything, he’ll be the leader,’ said William flatly. ‘If you don’t know that you don’t know the de Wordes. We don’t join any team if we can’t be captain.’
‘But it’d be a bit silly, wouldn’t it, to let them use your own house—’
‘No, just very, very arrogant,’ said William. ‘We’ve always been privileged, you see. Privilege just means “private law”. That’s exactly what it means. He just doesn’t believe the ordinary laws apply to him. He doesn’t really believe they can touch him, and if they do he’ll just shout until they go away. That’s the de Worde tradition, and we’re good at it. Shout at people, get your own way, ignore the rules. It’s the de Worde way. Up until me, obviously.’
Sacharissa was careful not to let her expression change.
‘And I didn’t expect this,’ William finished, turning the box over and over in his hands.