Going Postal

lifted the dark-red cloth that, it turned out, concealed the parrot cage. The bird was, in fact, a cockatoo, and it danced frantically up and down on its perch.
    “ Twelve and a half percent! Twelve and a half percent! ”
    Horsefry grinned.
    “Ah, you’ve met Alphonse,” said Reacher Gilt. “And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Crispin?” The door swung slowly behind him into its felt-lined frame, shutting out the sound of distant music.
    Horsefry turned, the brief moment of amusement evaporating instantly into the fearful turmoil of his soul. Gilt, one hand in the pocket of a beautiful smoking jacket, gave him a quizzical look.
    “I’m being spied on, Reacher!” Horsefry burst out. “Vetinari sent one of—”
    “Please! Sit down, Crispin. I think you require a large brandy.” He wrinkled his nose. “Another large brandy, should I say?”
    “I wouldn’t say no! Had to have a little snifter, you know, just to calm m’nerves! What a day I’ve had!” Horsefry plumped down into a leather armchair. “Did you know there was a watchman on duty outside the bank almost all afternoon?”
    “A fat man? A sergeant?” said Gilt, handing him a glass.
    “Fat, yes. I didn’t notice his rank.” Horsefry sniffed. “I’ve never had anything to do with the Watch.”
    “I, on the other hand, have,” said Gilt, wincing to see very fine brandy drunk in the way Horsefry was drinking it. “And I gather that Sergeant Colon is in the habit of loitering near large buildings in case they are stolen, but in fact simply because he enjoys a quiet smoke out of the wind. He is a clown, and not to be feared.”
    “Yes, but this morning one of the revenue officers came to see that old fool Cheeseborough—”
    “Is that unusual, Crispin?” said Gilt soothingly. “Let me top up your glass there…”
    “Well, they come once or twice a month—” Horsefry conceded, thrusting out the empty brandy glass. “But—”
    “Not unusual, then. You’re shying at flies, my dear Crispin.”
    “Vetinari is spying on me!” Horsefry burst out. “There was a man in black spying on the house this evening! I heard a noise and I looked out and I could see him standing in the corner of the garden!”
    “A thief, perhaps?”
    “No, I’m fully paid up with the Guild! I’m sure someone was in the house this afternoon, too. Things were moved in my study! I’m worried, Reacher! I’m the one who stands to lose here! If there’s an audit—”
    “You know there won’t be, Crispin.” Gilt’s voice was like honey.
    “Yes, but I can’t get my hands on all the paperwork, not yet, not until old Cheeseborough retires. And Vetinari’s got lots of little, you know, what are they called…clerks, you know, who do nothing but look at lil’ bits of paper! They’ll work it out, they will! We bought the Grand Trunk wi’ its own money!”
    Gilt patted him on the shoulder. “Calm yourself, Crispin. Nothing is going to go wrong. You think about money in the old-fashioned way. Money is not a thing, it is not even a process. It is a kind of shared dream. We dream that a small disc of common metal is worth the price of a substantial meal. Once you wake up from that dream, you can swim in a sea of money.”
    The voice was almost hypnotic, but Horsefry’s terror was driving him on. His forehead glistened.
    “Then Greenyham’s pissing in it!” he snapped, his little eyes aglint with desperate malice. “You know that tower widdershins of Lancre that was giving all that trouble a coupla months ago? When we were tol’ it was all due to witches flying into the towers? Hah! It w’s only a witch the firs’ time! Then Greenyham bribed a couple of the new men in the tower to call in a breakdown, and one of them rode like hell for the downstream tower and sen’ him the Genua market figures a good two hours before everyone else got them! That’s how he cornered dried prawns, you know. And dried fish maw and dried ground shrimp. It’s not the firs’ time he’s done it, either! The man is coining it!”
    Gilt looked at the man and wondered whether killing him now would be the best option. Vetinari was clever. You didn’t stay ruler of a fermenting mess of a city like this one by being silly. If you saw his spy, it was a spy he wanted you to see. The way you’d know that Vetinari was keeping an eye on you would be by turning around very quickly and seeing no one at all.
    Godsdamn Greenyham, too. Some people had no grasp, no grasp