The Truth (Discworld 25)

'Rats?'

'I'm afraid so, sir.'

Vimes groaned and turned to William. 'Sergeant Angua will take you to the cells,' he said.

And then William was on the other side of the door.

'Come on,' said the sergeant.

'How did I do?' said William.

'I've seen worse.'

'Sorry to mention Corporal Nobbs, but--'

'Oh, don't worry about it,' said Sergeant Angua. 'Your powers of observation will be the talk of the station. Look, he's being kind to you because he hasn't worked out what you are yet, okay? Just be careful, that's all.'

'And you have worked out what I am, have you?' said William.

'Let's just say I don't rely on first impressions. Mind the step.'

She led the way down into the cells. William noted, without being so crass as to write it down, that there were two watchmen on duty at the bottom.

'Are there usually guards down here? I mean, the cells have locks, don't they?'

'I hear you've got a vampire working for you,' said Sergeant Angua.

'Otto? Oh, yes. Well, we're not prejudiced about that sort of thing

The sergeant did not answer. Instead she opened a door off the main cell corridor and called out: 'Visitor for the patients, Igor.'

'Right with you, thargent.'

The room within was brightly lit by an uncanny, flickering blue light. Jars lined shelves on one wall. Some had strange things moving in them - very strange things. Other things just floated. Blue sparks sizzled on some complex machine, all copper balls and glass rods, in the corner. But what mainly drew William's attention was the great big eye. ^

Before he could actually scream a hand reached up and what he'd thought was a huge eyeball was revealed as the largest magnifying glass he'd ever seen, swivelling up on a metal bracket attached to the forehead of its owner. But the face it revealed was barely an improvement, when it came to mouth-desiccating horror.

The eyes were on different levels. One ear was larger than the other. The face was a network of scars. But that was nothing compared to the deformed hairstyle; Igor's greasy black hair had been

brushed forward into an overhanging quiff in the manner of some of the city's noisier young musicians, but to a length that could take out the eye of any innocent pedestrian. By the looks of the... organic nature of Igor's work area, he would then be able to help

put it back.

There was a fish tank bubbling on one bench. Inside it some potatoes were idly swimming backwards and forwards.

'Young Igor here is part of our forensic department,' said Sergeant Angua. 'Igor, this is Mr de Worde. He wants to see the

patients.'

William saw the quick glance Igor gave the sergeant, who added,

'Mister Vimes says it's okay.'

'Right this way, then,' said Igor, lurching past William into the corridor. 'Always nice to get visitors down here, Mr de Worde. You will find we keep a very relaxed thell down here. I'll just go and get the keys.'

'Why does he only lisp the occasional s?' said William, as Igor limped towards a cupboard.

'He's trying to be modern. You never met an Igor before?'