The Truth (Discworld 25)

The dwarfs went quiet. Then there was a metallic chorus. Each dwarf had laid down his type, reached under the stone and pulled out a battle axe.

That's agreed, then, is it?' said Mr Slant, stepping aside. The trolls were straightening up. It didn't take a major excuse for trolls and dwarfs to fight; sometimes, being on the same world was enough.

This time it was William who restrained Goodmountain. 'Hold on, hold on, there must be a law against killing lawyers.'

'Are you sure?'

There're still some around, aren't there? Besides, he's a zombie. If you cut him in half both bits will sue you.' William raised his voice. 'We can't pay, Mr Slant.'

'In that case, accepted law and practice allows me--'

'I want to see your charter!' Sacharissa snapped. 'I've known you since we were kids, Ronnie Carney, and you're always up to something.'

'Good afternoon, Miss Cripslock,' said Mr Slant. 'As a matter of fact we thought someone might ask, so I brought the new charter with me. I hope we are all law-abiding here.'

Sacharissa snatched the impressive-looking scroll, with its large dangling seal, and glared at it as if trying to burn the words off the parchment by the mere friction of reading. 'Oh,' she said. 'It... seems to be in order.' 'Quite so.'

'Except for the Patrician's signature,' Sacharissa added, handing back the scroll.

That is a mere formality, my dear.'

'I'm not your dear and it's not on there, formal or not. So this isn't legal, is it?'

Mr Slant twitched. 'Clearly we cannot get a signature from a man in prison on a very serious charge,' he said.

Aha, that's a wallpaper word, thought William. When people say dearly something, that means there's a huge crack in their argument and they know things aren't clear at all. 'Then who is running the city?' he said. 'I don't know,' said Mr Slant. 'That is not my concern. I--' 'Mr Goodmountain?' said William. 'Large type, please.' 'Got you,' said the dwarf. His hand hovered over a fresh case. 'In caps, size to fit, "WHO RUNS ANKH-MORPORK?"' said William. 'Now into body type, upper and lower case, across two columns: "Who is governing the city while Lord Vetinari is imprisoned? Asked for an opinion today, a leading legal figure said' he did not know and it was no concern of his. Mr Slant of the Lawyers' Guild went on to say--"'

'You can't put that in your newspaper!' barked Slant. 'Set that directly, please, Mr Goodmountain.' 'Setting it already,' said the dwarf, the leaden slugs clicking into place. Out of the corner of his eye William saw Otto emerging from the cellar and looking puzzled at the noise.

' "Mr Slant went on to say...?"' said William, glaring at the lawyer. 'You will find it very hard to print that,' said Mr Carney, ignoring the lawyer's frantic hand signals, 'with no damn press!'

'"... was the view of Mr Carney of the Guild of Engravers,"

spelled with an e before the y,' said William, '"who earlier today tried to put the Times out of business by means of an illegal document.' William realized that although his mouth felt full of acid he was enjoying this immensely. ' "Asked for his opinion of this flagrant abuse of the city laws, Mr Slant said..."?'

'STOP TAKING DOWN EVERYTHING WE SAY!' yelled Slant.

'Full caps for the whole sentence, please, Mr Goodmountain.'

The trolls and the dwarfs were staring at William and the lawyer. They understood that a fight was going on, but they couldn't see any blood.

'And when you're ready, Otto?' said William, turning round.

'If the dvarfs vould just close up a bit more,' said Otto, squinting into the iconograph. 'Oh, zat'sgood, let's see the light gleam on zose big choppers... trolls, please vave your fists, zat's right... big smile, everyvun

It is amazing how people will obey a man pointing a lens at them. They'll come to their senses in a fraction of a second, but that's all he needs.

Click.

WHOOMPH.

'... aaarghaaarghaaarghaaaaaagh

William reached the falling iconograph just ahead of Mr Slant, who could move very fast for a man with no apparent knees.

'It's ours,' he said, holding it firmly, while the dust of Otto Chriek settled around them.

'What are you intending to do with this picture?'