Could you poison a book? But ... so what? There were other books. You'd have to know he'd look at this one, continuously. And even then you'd have to get the poison into him. A man might prick his finger once and after that he'd take care.
It sometimes worried Vimes, the way he suspected everything. If you started wondering whether a man could be poisoned by words, you might as well accuse the wallpaper of driving him mad. Mind you, that horrible green colour would drive anyone insane...
'Bingely beepy bleep!'
'Oh, no...'
'This is your six ay-emm wake-up call! Good morning!! Here are your appointments for today, Insert Name Here!! Ten ay-emm...'
'Shut up! Listen, whatever's in my diary for today is definitely not - '
Vimes stopped. He lowered the box.
He went back to the desk. If you assumed one page per day...
Lord Vetinari had a very good memory. But everyone wrote things down, didn't they? You couldn't remember every little thing. Wednesday: 3pm, reign of terror; 3.15pm, clean out scorpion pit ...
He held the organizer up to his lips. Take a memo,' he said.
'Hooray! Go right ahead. Don't forget to say memo first!!'
'Speak to ... blast... Memo: What about Vetinari's journal?'
'Is that it?'
'Yes.'
Someone knocked politely at the door. Vimes opened it carefully. 'Oh, it's you, Littlebottom.'
Vimes blinked. Something wasn't right about the dwarf.
'I'll mix up some of Mr Doughnut's jollop right away, sir.' The dwarf looked past Vimes to the bed. 'Ooo ... he doesn't look good, does he ... ?'
'Get someone to move him into a different bedroom,' said Vimes. 'Get the servants to prepare a new room, right?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And, after they've done it, pick a different room at random and move him into it. And change everything, understand? Every stick of furniture, every vase, every rug - '
'Er... yes, sir.'
Vimes hesitated. Now he could put his finger on what had been bothering him for the last twenty seconds.
'Littlebottom
'Sir?'
'You ... er ... you ... on your ears?'
'Earrings, sir,' said Cheery nervously. 'Constable Angua gave them to me.'
'Really? Er ... right ... I didn't think dwarfs wore jewellery, that's all.'
'We're known for rings, sir.'
'Yes, of course.' Rings, yes. No one quite like a dwarf for forging a magical ring. But... magical earrings? Oh, well. There were some waters too deep to wade.
Sergeant Detritus's approach to these matters was almost instinctively correct. He had the palace staff lined up in front of him and was shouting at them at the top of his voice.