The Truth (Discworld 25)

A chair did say: 'I wondered whether Lord Downey or even Mr Boggis--'

Another chair said: 'Oh, come now! Why should they? Much better this way.'

'True, true. Mr Scrope is a man of fine qualities.'

'A good family man, I understand.'

'Listens to the common people.'

'Not just to the common people, I trust?'

'Oh, no. He's very open to advice. From informed .-...ocus groups.'

'He'll need plenty of that.'

No one said: He's a useful idiot.

'Nevertheless... the Watch will have to be brought to heel.'

'Vimes will do what he is told. He must do. Scrope will be at least as legitimate a choice as Vetinari was. Vimes is the kind of man who must have a boss, because that gives him legitimacy.'

Slant coughed. 'Is that all, gentlemen?' he said.

'What about the Ankh-Morpork Times?' said a chair. 'Bit of a problem shaping up there?'

'People find it amusing,' said Mr Slant. 'And nobody takes it seriously. The Inquirer outsells it two to one already, after just one day. And it is underfinanced. And it has, uh, difficulty with supplies.'

'Good tale in the Inquirer about that woman and the snake,' said a chair. 'Was there?' said Mr Slant.

The chair that had first mentioned the Times had something on its mind.

'I'd feel happier if a few likely lads smashed up the press,' it said.

That would attract attention,' said a chair. The Times wants attention. The... writer craves to be noticed.'

'Oh, well, if you insist.'

'I would not dream of insisting. But the Times will collapse,' said the chair, and this was the chair that other chairs listened to. The young man is also an idealist. He has yet to find out that what's in the public interest is not what the public is interested in.'

'Say again?'

'I mean, gentlemen, that people probably think he's doing a good job, but what they are buying is the Inquirer. The news is more interesting. Did I ever tell you, Mr Slant, that a lie will go round the world before the truth has got its boots on?'

'A great many times, sir,' said Slant, with slightly less than his usual keen diplomacy. He realized this, and added, 'A valuable insight, I'm sure.'

'Good.' The most important chair sniffed. 'Keep an eye on our... workmen, Mr Slant.'

It was midnight in the Temple of Om in the Street of Small Gods, and one light burned in the vestry. It was a candle in a very heavy ornate candlestick and it was, in a way, sending a prayer to heaven.

The prayer, from the Gospel According to the Miscreants, was: don't let anyone find us pinching this stuff.

Mr Pin rummaged in a cupboard.

'I can't find anything in your size,' he said. 'It looks as though-- Oh, no... sheesh, incense is for burning.'

Tulip sneezed, pebble-dashing the opposite wall with sandal-wood.

'You could've --ing told me before,' he muttered. I've got some papers.'