The Truth (Discworld 25)

'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.

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.