a room full of mirrors.
Roland tugged the sword out of its scabbard. It was heavy and not at all like the flying, darting silver thing that he’d imagined. It was more like a metal club with an edge.
He gripped it in both hands and managed to hurl it out into the middle of the slow, dark river.
Just before it hit the water a white arm rose and caught it. The hand waved the sword a couple of times, and then disappeared with it under the water.
‘Was that supposed to happen?’ he said.
‘A man throwin’ his sword awa’?’ yelled Rob. ‘No! Ye’re no’ supposed tae bung a guid sword intae the drinkie!’ ‘No, I mean the hand,’ said Roland. ‘It just—’
‘Ach, they turn up sometimes.’ Rob Anybody waved a hand as if midstream underwater sword jugglers were an everyday occurrence.
*
When the noise had died down a bit the drummer beat the drum a few times and the accordionist played a long drawn-out chord, the legal signal that a Morris Dance is about to begin, and people who hang around have only got themselves to blame.
IT’S an offer y you can’t refuse.
Who would not wish to be the man in charge of Ankh-Morpork’s Royal Mint and the bank next door?
It’s a job for life. But, as former conman Moist von Lipwig is learning, life is not necessarily for long.
The Chief Cashier is almost certainly a vampire. There’s something nameless in the cellar (and the cellar itself is pretty nameless), and it turns out that the Royal Mint runs at a loss. A three-hundred-year-old wizar is after his girlfriend, he’s about to be exposed as a fraud, but the Assassins’ Guild might get him first. In fact, lots of people want him dead.
Oh. And every day he has to take the Chairman for walkies.
Everywhere he look looks he’s making enemies.
What he should be doing is … Making Money!
The Guild of Thieves paid a twenty-dollar bounty fee for a non-accredited thief brought in alive, and there were oh, so many ways of still being alive when you were dragged in and poured out on the floor.
*
‘You Have An Appointment Now With Lord Vetinari,’ said the golem.
‘I’m sure I don’t.’
‘There Are Two Guards Outside Who Are Sure You Do.’
*
Lord Vetinari lifted an eyebrow with the care of one who, having found a piece of caterpillar in his salad, raises the rest of the lettuce.
*
‘[The bank] was built as a temple, but never used as one.’
‘Really?’ said Moist. ‘Which god?’
‘None, as it turned out. One of the kings of Ankh commanded it to be built about nine hundred years ago,’ said Bent. ‘I suppose it was a case of speculative building. That is to say, he had no god in mind.’
‘He hoped one would turn up?’
‘Exactly sir.’
‘Like bluetits?’ said Moist, peering around. ‘This place was a kind of celestial bird box?’
*
‘It costs more than a penny to make a penny’ Moist murmured. ‘Is it just me, or is that wrong?’
‘But, you see, once you have made it, a penny keeps on being a penny’ said Mr Bent. ‘That’s the magic of it.’
‘It is?’ said Moist. ‘Look, it’s a copper disc. What do you expect it to become?’
‘In the course of a year, just about everything,’ said Mr Bent, smoothly. ‘It becomes some apples, part of a cart, a pair of shoelaces, some hay, an hour’s occupancy of a theatre seat. It may even become a stamp and send a letter, Mr Lipwig. It might be spent three hundred times and yet - and this is the good part - it is still one penny, ready and willing to be spent again. It is not an apple, which will go bad. Its worth is fixed and stable. It is not consumed.’
*
Mr Fusspot was the smallest and ugliest dog Moist had ever seen. It reminded him of those goldfish with the huge bulging eyes that look as though they are about to explode. Its nose, on the other hand, looked stoved in. It wheezed, and its legs were so bandy that it must sometimes trip over its own feet.
The dog gave a little yappy bark and then covered Moist’s face in all that was best in dog slobber.
*
‘I don’t really understand how banks work.’
‘How do you think they work?’
‘Well, you take rich people’s money and lend it to suitable people at interest, and give as little as possible of the interest back.’
‘Yes, and what is a suitable person?’
‘Someone who can prove they don’t need the money?’
*
‘Old money’ meant