BoiB THE TRUTH

THE TRUTH 

Terry Pratchett

Sometimes a fantasy author has to point out the strangeness of 

reality. The way Ankh-Morpork dealt with its flood problems (see p. 

230 and onwards) is curiously similar to that adopted by the city of 

Seattle, Washington, towards the end of the nineteenth century. 

Really. Go and see. Try the clam chowder while you're there. 

The rumour spread through the city like wildfire (which had quite often spread through 

Ankh-Morpork since its citizens had learned the words 'fire insurance'). 

The dwarfs can turn lead into gold . . . 

It buzzed through the fetid air of the Alchemists' quarter, where they had been 

trying to do the same thing for centuries without success but were certain that they'd 

manage it by tomorrow, or next Tuesday at least, or the end of the month for definite. 

It caused speculation among the wizards at Unseen University, where they knew 

you could turn one element into another element, provided you didn't mind it turning 

back again next day, and where was the good in that? Besides, most elements were happy 

where they were. 

It seared into the scarred, puffy and sometimes totally missing ears of the Thieves' 

Guild, where people put an edge on their crowbars. Who cared where the gold came 

from? 

The dwarfs can turn lead into gold . . . 

It reached the cold but incredibly acute ears of the Patrician, and it did that fairly 

quickly, because you did not stay ruler of Ankh-Morpork for long if you were second 

with the news. He sighed and made a note of it, and added it to a lot of other notes. 

The dwarfs can turn lead into gold . . . 

It reached the pointy ears of the dwarfs. 

'Can we?' 

'Damned if I know. I can't.' 

'Yeah, but if you could, you wouldn't say. I wouldn't say, if I could.' 

'Can you?' 

'No!' 

'Ah-ha!' 

It came to the ears of the Night Watch of the city guard, as they did gate duty at ten 

o'clock on an icy night. Gate duty in Ankh-Morpork was not taxing. It consisted mainly 

of waving through anything that wanted to go through, although traffic was minimal in 

the dark and freezing fog. 

They hunched in the shelter of the gate arch, sharing one damp cigarette. 

'You can't turn something into something else,' said Corporal Nobbs. The 

Alchemists have been trying it for years.' 

They can gen'rally turn a house into a hole in the ground,' said Sergeant Colon. 

That's what I'm talking about,' said Corporal Nobbs. 'Can't be done. It's all to do 

with . . . elements. An alchemist told me. Everything's made up of elements, right? Earth, 

Water, Air, Fire and . . . sunnink. Well-known fact. Everything's got 'em all mixed up just 

right.' 

He stamped his feet in an effort to get some warmth into them. 

'If it was possible to turn lead into gold, everyone'd be doing it,' he said. 

'Wizards could do it,' said Sergeant Colon. 

'Oh, well, magic,' said Nobby dismissively. 

A large cart rumbled out of the yellow clouds and entered the arch, splashing 

Colon as it wobbled through one of the puddles that were such a feature of Ankh- 

Morpork's highways. 

'Bloody dwarfs,' he said, as it continued on into the city. But he didn't say it too 

loudly. 

There were a lot of them pushing that cart,' said Corporal Nobbs reflectively. It 

lurched slowly round a corner and was lost to view. 

'Prob'ly all that gold,' said Colon. 

'Hah. Yeah. That'd be it, then.' 

And the rumour came to the ears of William de Worde, and in a sense it stopped there, 

because he dutifully wrote it down. 

It was his job. Lady Margolotta of Uberwald sent him five dollars a month to do 

it. The Dowager Duchess of Quirm also sent him five dollars. So did King Verence of 

Lancre, and a few other Ramtop notables. So did the Seriph of Al Khali, although in his 

case the payment was half a cartload of figs, twice a year. 

All in all, he considered, he was on to a good thing. All he had to do was write 

one letter very carefully, trace it backwards on to a piece of boxwood provided for him 

by Mr Cripslock the engraver in the Street of Cunning Artificers, and then pay Mr 

Cripslock twenty dollars to carefully remove the wood that wasn't letters and make five 

impressions on sheets of paper. 

Of course, it had to be done thoughtfully, with spaces left after To my Noble 

Client the', and so on, which he had to fill in later, but even deducting expenses it still left 

him the best part of thirty dollars for little more than one day's work a month. 

A young man without too many responsibilities could live modestly in Ankh-