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...
'You have no honour, do you?' said his father, still in the voice of infuriating calm. 'Well, publish and be damned to you. And to the Watch. We gave no order to--'
'I expect you didn't,' said William. 'I expect you said "make it so" and left the details to people like Pin and Tulip. Bloody hands at arm's length.'
'As your father I order you to cease this... this
'You used to order me to tell the truth,' said William.
Lord de Worde drew himself up. 'Oh, William, Williaml Don't be so naive.'
William shut his notebook. The words came easier now. He'd leapt from the building and found that he could fly.
'And which one is this?' he said. The truth that is so precious it must be surrounded by a bodyguard of lies? The truth that is stranger than fiction? Or the truth that is still putting on its boots when a lie is running round the world?' He stepped forward. 'That's your little phrase, isn't it? It doesn't matter any more. I think Mr Pin was going to try blackmail and, you know, so am I, naive as I am. You're going to leave the city, right now. That shouldn't be too hard for you. And you had better hope that nothing happens to me, or anyone I work with, or anyone I know.'
'Really?'
'Right now!' screamed William, so loud that Lord de Worde rocked backwards. 'Have you gone deaf as well as insane? Right now and don't come back, because if you do I'll publish every damn word you've just said!' William pulled the Dis-organizer out of his pocket. 'Every damn word! D'you hear me? And not even Mr Slant will be able to grease your way out of that! You even had the arrogance, the stupid arrogance, to use our house! How dare you! Get out of the city! And either draw that sword or take . , . your... hand... off... it!'
He stopped, red-faced and panting.
The truth has got its boots on,' he said. 'It's going to start kicking.' His eyes narrowed. 'I told you to take your hand off that sword!'
'So silly, so silly. And I believed you were my son
'Ah, yes. I nearly forgot that,' said William, now rocketing on rage. 'You'know one of the customs of the dwarfs? No, of course you don't, because they're not really people, are they? But I know one or two of them, you see, and so...' He pulled a velvet bag out of his pocket and threw it down in front of his father. 'And this is... ?' said Lord de Worde.
There's more than twenty thousand dollars in there, as close as a couple of experts could estimate,' said William. 'I didn't have a lot of time to work it out and I didn't want you to think I was being unfair, so I've erred on the generous side. That must cover everything I've cost you over the years. School fees, clothes, everything. I have to confess you didn't make such a good job of it, given that I'm the end result. I'm buying myself off you, you see.'
'Oh, I see. The dramatic gesture. Do you really think that family is a matter of money?' said Lord de Worde.
'We-ell, yes, according to history. Money, land and titles,' said William. 'It's amazing how often we failed to marry anyone who didn't have at least two out of three.'
'Cheap jibe. You know what I mean.'
'I don't know if I do,' said William. 'But I do know I got that money a few hours ago off a man who tried to kill me.'
'Tried to kill you?' For the first time there was a note of uncertainty.
'Why, yes. You're surprised?' said William. 'If you throw something into the air, don't you have to worry about where it bounces?'
'Indeed you do,' said Lord de Worde. He sighed, made a little hand signal, and William saw shadows detach themselves from deeper shadows. And he remembered that you couldn't run the de Worde estates without a lot of hired help, in every department of life. Hard men in little round hats, who knew how to evict and distrain and set mantraps...
'You have been overdoing it, I can see,' said his father, as they advanced. 'I think you need... yes, a long sea voyage. The Isles of Fog, perhaps, or possibly Fourecks. Or Bhangbhangduc. There's fortunes to be made there, I understand, by young men prepared to get their hands dirty. Certainly there's nothing for you here... nothing good.'