Lord de Worde used words with a tone and a volume that made them as good as fists, but he'd never used actual violence.
He had people for that.
Another drop of thawed hail coursed down William's spine.
Surely even his father couldn't be this stupid?
He wondered if he should turn over everything to the Watch right now. But whatever they said about Vimes, in the end the man had a handful of men and a lot of influential enemies who had families going back a thousand years and the same amount of honour that you'd find in a dog fight.
No. He was a de Worde. The Watch was for other people, who couldn't sort out their problems their own way. And what was the worst that could happen?
So many things, he thought as he set out again, that it would be hard to decide which one was the worst.
A galaxy of candles burned in the middle of the floor. In the corroded mirrors around the room they looked like the lights of a shoal of deep-sea fishes.
William walked past overturned chairs. There was one upright, though, behind the candles.
He stopped.
'Ah... William,' said the chair. Then Lord de Worde slowly unfolded his lanky form from the embracing leather and stood up in the light.
'Father,' said William.
'I thought you'd come here. Your mother always liked the place, too. Of course, it was... different in those days.'
William said nothing. It had been.
'I think this nonsense has got to stop now, don't you?' said Lord de Worde.
'I think it is stopping, father.'
'But I don't think you mean what I mean,' said Lord de Worde.
'I don't know what you think you mean,' said William. 'I just want to hear the truth from you.'
Lord de Worde sighed. 'The truth? I had the best interests of the city at heart, you know. You'll understand, one day. Vetinari is ruining the place.'
'Yes... well...hat's where it all becomes difficult, doesn't it?' said William, amazed that his voice hadn't even begun to shake yet. 'I mean, everyone says that sort of thing, don't they? "I did it for the best", "the end justifies the means" - the same words, every time.'
'Don't you agree, then, that it's time for a ruler who listens to the people?'
'Maybe. Which people did you have in mind?'
Lord de Worde's mild expression changed. William was surprised it had survived this long.
'You are going to put this in your rag of a newspaper, aren't you?'
William said nothing.
'You can't prove anything. You know that.'
William stepped into the light and Lord de Worde saw the notebook.
'I can prove enough. That's all that matters, really. The rest will become a matter of... inquiry. Do you know they call Vimes "Vetinari's terrier"? Terriers dig and dig and don't let go.'
Lord de Worde put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
And William heard himself think: Thank you. Thank you. Up until now, I couldn 't believe it...