'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.'
William made out four figures now. He'd seen them around on the estates. They tended to have one-word names, like Jenks or Clamper, and no visible pasts at all.
One of them said, 'Now, if you'll just see a bit o' sense, Mr William, we can all do this nice and quiet
'Small sums of money will be sent to you periodically,' said Lord de Worde. 'You will be able to live in a style which--'
A few wisps of dust spiralled down from the shadowy ceiling, twirling like sycamore leaves.
They landed next to the velvet bag.
Overhead, a shrouded chandelier jingled gently.
William looked up. 'Oh, no,' he said. 'Please... don't kill anyone!'
'What?' said Lord de Worde.
Otto Chriek dropped to the floor, hands raised like talons.
'Good evening!' he said to a shocked bailiff. He looked at his hands. 'Oh, vot am I thinking of!' He bunched his fists and danced from foot to foot. Tut zem up in the traditional Ankh-Morpork pugilism!'
'Put them up?' said the man, raising a cudgel. 'Blow that!'
A jab from Otto lifted him off his feet. He landed on his back, spinning, and slid away across the polished floor. Otto spun round so fast that he blurred, and there was a smack as another man went down.
'Vot's this? Vot's this? I'm using your civilized fisticuffs, and you don't vant to fight?' he said, springing back and forth like an amateur boxer. 'Ah, you, sir, you show fight--' The fists blurred into invisibility and pummelled a man like a punchbag. Otto straightened up as the man fell, and absent-mindedly punched sideways to catch the charging fourth man on the chin. The man actually spun in the air.
This happened in a few seconds. And then William got enough of a grip to shout a warning. He was too late.
Otto looked down at the length of sword blade sticking too far into his chest.
'Oh, vill you look at zis,' he said. 'You know, in zis job I just cannot make a shirt last two days?'
He turned to Lord de Worde, who was backing away, and cracked his knuckles.
'Keep it away from me!' shouted his lordship.
William shook his head.
'Oh, yes?' said Otto, still advancing. 'You think I am an it? Veil, let me act like an it.'
He grabbed Lord de Worde's jacket and held him up in the air, with one hand, at arm's length.
'Ve have people like you back home,' he said. 'Zey are the vuns that tell the mob vot to do. I come here to Ankh-Morpork, zey tell me things are different, but really it is alvays the same. Alvays zere are damn people like you! And now, vot shall I do viz you?'