Discworld – Truth (Terry Pratchett)

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Mail was arriving. William was used to a certain amount, usually from clients of his news letter complaining that he hadn't told them about the double-headed giants, plagues and rains of domestic animals that they had heard had been happening in Ankh-Morpork; his father had been right about one thing, at least, when he'd asserted that lies could run round the world before the truth could get its boots on. And it was amazing how people wanted to believe them.

These were … well, it was as if he'd shaken a tree and all the nuts had fallen out. Several letters were complaining that there had been much colder winters than this, although no two of them could agree when it was. One said vegetables were not as funny as they used to be, especially leeks. Another asked what the Guild of Thieves was doing about unlicensed crime in the city. There was one saying that all these robberies were down to dwarfs who shouldn't be allowed into the city to steal the work out of honest humans' mouths.

'Put a title like "Letters" on the top and put them in,' said William. 'Except the one about the dwarfs. That sounds like Mr Windling. It sounds like my father, too, except that at least he can spell "undesirable" and wouldn't use crayon.'

'Why not that letter?'

'Because it's offensive.'

'Some people think it's true, though,' said Sacharissa. 'There's been a lot of trouble.'

'Yes, but we shouldn't print it.'

William called Goodmountain over and showed him the letter. The dwarf read it.

'Put it in,' he suggested. 'It'll fill a few inches.'

'But people will object,' said William.

'Good. Put their letters in, too.'

Sacharissa sighed. 'We'll probably need them,' she said. 'William, grandfather says no one in the Guild will engrave the iconographs for us.'

'Why not? We can afford the rates.'

'We're not Guild members. It's all getting unpleasant. Will you tell Otto?'

William sighed and walked over to the ladder.

The dwarfs used the cellar as a bedroom, being naturally happier with a floor over their heads. Otto had been allowed to use a dank corner, which he'd made his own by hanging an old sheet across on a rope.

'Oh, hello, Mr Villiam,' he said, pouring something noxious from one bottle into another.

'I'm afraid it looks as if we won't get anyone to engrave your pictures,' said William.

The vampire seemed unmoved by this. 'Yes, I vundered about zat.'

'So I'm sorry to say that--'

'No problem, Mr Villiam. Zere is alvays a yay.'

'How? You can't engrave, can you?'

'No, but … all ve are printing is black and vite, yes?   And zer paper is vite zo all ve are really printink is black, okay? I looked at how zer dvarfs do zer letters, and zey haf all zese bits of metal lying around and … you know how zer engravers can engrave metal viz acid?'

'Yes?'

'Zo, all I haf to do is teach zer imps to paint viz acid. End of problem. Getting grey took a bit of thought, but I zink I haf--'

'You mean you can get the imps to etch the picture straight on to a plate?'

'Yes. It is vun of those ideas that are obvious ven you zink about it.' Otto looked wistful. 'And I zink about light all zer time. All zer … time.'

William vaguely remembered something someone had once said: the only thing more dangerous than a vampire crazed with blood lust was a vampire crazed with anything else. All the meticulous single-mindedness that went into finding young women who slept with their bedroom window open was channelled into some other interest, with merciless and painstaking efficiency.

'Er, why do you need to work in a dark room, though?' he said. 'The imps don't need it, do they?'

'Ah, zis is for my experiment,' said Otto proudly. 'You know zat another term for an iconographer would be "photographer"? From the old word photus in Latation, vhich means--'

' "To prance around like a pillock ordering everyone about as if you owned the place",' said William.

'Ah, you know it!'

William nodded. He'd always wondered about that word.

'Veil, I am vorking on an obs…

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  • 13. 5. 2023