'I don't like that idea much,' said William. 'You might as well say we should have a magazine just for men.'
'Why not? What would you put in it?'
'Oh, I don't know. Articles about drink. Pictures of women not wearing... Anyway, we'd need more people to write for them,'
'Excuse me?' said Goodmountain.
'Lots of people can write well enough for that sort of thing,' said Sacharissa. 'If it was clever, we wouldn't be able to do it.'
That's true.'
'And there's another magazine that would sell, too,' said Sacharissa. Behind her a piece of the press collapsed.
'Hello? Hello? I know my mouth is opening and shutting,' said Goodmountain. 'Is any sound getting out?'
'Cats,' said Sacharissa. 'Lots of people like cats. Pictures of cats. Stories about cats. I've been thinking about it. It could be called... Completely Cats.'
To go with Completely Women, and Completely Men? Completely Knitting? Completely Cake?'
'I had thought of calling it something like The Ladies' Home Companion,' said Sacharissa, 'but your title has got a certain ring, I must admit. Ring... yes. Now, that's another thing. There's all the dwarfs in the city. We could produce a magazine for them. I mean... what's the modern dwarf wearing this season?'
'Chain mail and leather,' said Goodmountain, suddenly perplexed. 'What are you talking about? It's always chain mail and leather!'
Sacharissa ignored him. The two of them were in a world of their own, Goodmountain realized. It had nothing to do with the real one any more.
'Seems a bit of a waste, though,' said William. 'A waste of words, I mean.'
'Why? There's always more of them.' Sacharissa patted him gently on the cheek. 'You think you're writing words that'll last for ever? It's not like that. This newspaper stuff... that's words that last for a day. Maybe a week.'
'And then they get thrown away,' said William.
'Perhaps a few hang on. In people's heads.'
'That's not where the paper ends up,' said William. 'Quite the reverse.'
'What did you expect? These aren't books, they're... words that come and go. Cheer up.'
'There's a problem,' said William.
'Yes?'
'We haven't got enough money for a new press. Our shed has been burned down. We are out of business. It's all over. Do you understand?'
Sacharissa looked down. 'Yes,' she said meekly. 'I just hoped you didn't.'
'And we were so close. So close.' William pulled out his notebook. 'We could have run with this. I've got nearly the whole thing. All I can do with it now is give it to Vimes--'
'Where's the lead?'
William looked across the wreckage. Boddony was crouching by the smoking press, trying to see under it.
'There's not a sign of the lead!' he said.
'It's got to be somewhere,' said Goodmountain. 'In my experience twenty tons of lead does not just get up and walk away.'
It must've melted,' said Boddony. There's a few blobs on the floor
The cellar,' said Goodmountain. 'Give me a hand here, will you?' He grabbed a blackened beam.