Making Money

Igor beamed. At last! All this politeness had been getting on his nerves. What an Igor expected was insane orders. That was what an Igor was born (and to some extent, made) for. A shouted order to do something of dubious morality with an unpredictable outcome? Thweet!

Of course, thunder and lightning would have been more appropriate. Instead there was nothing more than the bubbling of the Glooper and gentle glassy noises that always made Igor think he was in a wind-chime factory. But sometimes you just had to improvise.

He topped up the little Gold Reserve flask to the ten tons marker, fiddled with the shiny valve array for a minute or two, and then stood back.

‘When I turn thith wheel, marthter, the Glooper will depothit an analogue of the gold in the vault and then clothe the connection.’

‘Very good, Igor.’

‘Er, you wouldn’t like to thout thomething, would you,’ he hinted.

‘Like what?’

‘Oh, I don’t know … perhapth: “They said … sorry, thaid … thorry … I wath mad but thith will thow them!!”’

‘That’s not really me.’

‘No?’ said Igor. ‘Perhapth a laugh, then?’

‘Would that help?’

‘Yeth, thur,’ said Igor. ‘It will help me.’

‘Oh, very well, if you think it will help,’ said Hubert. He took a sip from the jug Igor had just used, and cleared his throat.

‘Hah,’ he said. ‘Er, hahahh hah HA HA HA HA HA HA …’

What a waste of a wonderful gift, thought Igor, and turned the handle.

Gloop!

Even from down here in the vaults you could hear the buzz of activity in the banking hall.

Moist walked under the weight of a crate of banknotes, to Adora Belle’s annoyance.

‘Why can’t you put them in a safe?’

‘Because those’re full of coins. Anyway, we’ll have to keep them in here for now, until we get sorted out.’

‘It’s really just a victory thing, isn’t it? Your triumph over gold.’

‘A bit, yes.’

‘You got away with it again.’

‘I wouldn’t exactly put it like that. Gladys has applied to be my secretary.’

‘Here’s a tip: don’t let her sit on your lap.’

‘I’m being serious here! She’s ferocious! She probably wants my job now! She believes everything she reads!’

‘There’s your answer, then. Good grief, she’s the least of your problems!’

‘Every problem is an opportunity,’ said Moist primly.

‘Well, if you upset Vetinari again you will have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to never have to buy another hat.’

‘No, I think he likes a little opposition.’

‘And are you any good at knowing how much?’

‘No. It’s what I enjoy. You get a wonderful view from the point of no return.’

Moist opened the vault and put the crate on a shelf. It looked a bit lost and alone, but he could just make out the thudding of the press in the Mint as Mr Spools’s men worked hard at providing it with company.

Adora Belle leaned on the doorframe, watching him carefully.

‘They tell me that while I was away you did all kinds of risky things. Is that true?’

‘I like to flirt with risk. It’s always been part of my life.’

‘But you don’t do that kind of stuff while I’m around,’ said Adora Belle. ‘So I’m enough of a thrill, am I?’

She advanced. The heels helped, of course, but Spike could move like a snake trying to sashay, and the severe, tight and ostensibly modest dresses she wore left everything to the imagination, which is much more inflammatory than leaving nothing. Speculation is always more interesting than facts.

‘What are you thinking about right now?’ she said. She dropped her cigarette stub and pinned it with a heel.

‘Money boxes,’ said Moist instantly.

‘Money boxes?’

‘Yes, in the shape of the bank and the Mint. To teach the kiddies the habits of thrift. The money could go in the slot where the Bad Penny is—’

‘Are you really

thinking about money boxes?’

‘Er, no. I’m flirting with risk again.’

‘That’s better!’

‘Although you must admit that it’s a pretty clev—’

Adora Belle grabbed Moist by the shoulders. ‘Moist von Lipwig, if you don’t give me a big wet kiss right now— Ow! Are there fleas down here?’

It felt like a hailstorm. The air in the vault had become a golden mist. It would have been pretty, if it wasn’t so heavy. It stung where it touched.

Moist grabbed her hand and dragged her out as the teeming particles became a torrent. Outside, he took off his hat, which was already so heavy that it was endangering his ears, and tipped a small fortune in gold on to the floor. The vault was already half full.

‘Oh no,’ he moaned. ‘Just when it was going so well …’

Epilogue

WHITENESS, COOLNESS, the smell of starch. ‘Good morning, my lord.’

Cosmo opened his eyes. A female face, surrounded by a white cap, was looking down at him.

Ah, so it had worked. He had known it would.

‘Would you like to get up?’ said the woman, stepping back. There were a couple of heavily built men behind her, also in white. This was just as it should be.