'Who are you?'
'I'm Brezock the Barbarian, and I--'
The brain works fast when it thinks it is about to be cut in half.
'Oh, if it's a complaint you have, you have to take it up with the Complaints, Beheadings and Horsewhippings Editor,' said William. 'Mr Rocky here.'
'Dat's me,' boomed Rocky cheerfully, laying a hand on the man's shoulder. There was only room for three of his fingers. Brezock sagged.
'I... just... want to say,' said Brezock, slowly, 'that you put in I hit someone with a table. I never done that. What'd people think of me if they heard I go around hitting people with tables? What'd that do to my reputation?'
'I see.'
'I knifed him. A table's a cissy weapon.'
'We shall certainly print a correction,' said William, picking up his pencil.
'You couldn't add that I tore Slicer Gadley's ear off with my teeth, could you? That'd make people sit up. Ears aren't easy to do.'
When they had all gone, Rocky to sit on a chair outside the door, William and Sacharissa stared at one another.
'It's been a very strange morning,' he said.
'I've found out about the winter,' said Sacharissa. 'And there was an unlicensed theft from a jewellery shop in the Artificers Street. They got quite a lot of silver.'
'How did you find that out?'
'One of the journeyman jewellers told me.' Sacharissa gave a little cough. 'He, um, always comes to have a little chat with me when he sees me walking past.'
'Really? Well done!'
'And while I was waiting for you I had an idea. I got Gunilla to set this in type.' She shyly pushed a piece of paper across the desk.
'It looks more impressive at the top of the page,' she said nervously. 'What do you think?'
'What are all the fruit salads and leaves and things?' said William.
Sacharissa blushed. 'I did that. A bit of unofficial engraving. I thought it might make it look... you know, high class and impressive. Er... do you like it?'
'It's very good,' said William hurriedly. 'Very nice... er, cherries--'
'--grapes--'
'Yes, of course, I meant grapes. What's the quote from? It's very meaningful without, er, meaning anything very much.'
'I think it's just a quote,' said Sacharissa.
Mr Pin lit a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke into the still damp air of the wine cellar.
'Now, it seems to me what we got here is a failure to communicate,' he said. 'I mean, it's not like we're asking you to memorize a book or anything. You just got to look at Mr Tulip here. Is this hard? Lots of people do it without any kinda special training.'
'I sort of... I-lose my bottle,' said Charlie. His feet clanked against several empty ones.
'Mr Tulip is not a scary man,' said Mr Pin. This was flying in the face of the current evidence, he had to admit. His partner had bought a twist of what the dealer had sworn was devil dust but which looked to Mr Pin very much like powdered copper sulphate, and this had apparently reacted with the chemicals from the Slab which had been Mr Tulip's afternoon snack and turned one of his sinuses into a small bag of electricity. His
right eye was spinning slowly, and sparks twinkled on his nasal hairs.
'I mean, does he look scary?' Mr Pin went on. 'Remember, you are Lord Vetinari. Understand? You're not going to take anything from some guard. If he talks back to you, just look at him.'