Going Postal

company was told what’s what! It was all fine up until a few months ago—I mean, they made you pay through the nose but at least stuff got where it was fast as a arrow, but now it’s all these breakdowns and repairs and they charge even more, mark you! And they never tell you how long we’re going to be waiting, it’s always ‘very shortly.’ They’re always ‘sorry for the inconvenience,’ they even got that written on a sign they hang up on the office! As warm and human as a thrown knife, just like you said. So you know what we just done? We went around to the clacks tower in the city and had a serious word with young Davey, who’s a decent lad, and he gave us back all the overnight clacks for the big city that never got sent. How about that, eh?”
    “Won’t he get into trouble?”
    “He says he’s quitting anyway. None of the boys like the way the company’s run now. They’ve all been stamped for you, just like you said. Well, I’ll let you get dressed, Mr. Lipwig. Your horse is ready.” He stopped at the door. “Oh, just one thing, sir, about them stamps…”
    “Yes? Is there a problem, Mr. Camels?” said Moist.
    “Not as such, sir. I wouldn’t say anything against Lord Vetinari, sir, or Ankh-Morpork”—said a man living within twenty miles of a proud and touchy citizenry—“but, er, it doesn’t seem right, licking…well, licking Ankh-Morpork stamps. Couldn’t you print up a few for us? We’ve got a queen. She’d look good on a stamp. We’re an important city, you know!”
    “I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Camels. Got a picture of her, by any chance?”
    They’ll all want one , he thought, as he got dressed. Having your own stamps could be like having your own flag, your own crest. It could be big! And I bet I could do a deal with my friend Mr. Spools, oh yes. Doesn’t matter if you haven’t got your own post office, you’ve got to have your own stamp…
    An enthusiastic crowd saw him off on a horse which, while no Boris, did his best and seemed to know what reins were for. Moist gratefully accepted the cushion on the saddle, too. That added more glitter to the glass: He’d ridden so hard he needed a cushion!
    He set off with a full mailbag. Amazingly, once again, people had bought stamps just to own them. The Times had got around. Here was something new, so people wanted to be part of it.
    Once he was cantering over the fields, though, he felt the fizz die away. He was employing Stanley, a bunch of game but creaky old men, and some golems. He couldn’t keep this up.
    But the thing was, you added sparkle. You told people what you intended to do and they believed you could do it. Anyone could have done this ride. No one had. They kept waiting for the clacks to be repaired.
    He took things gently along the road, speeding up when he passed the clacks tower that had been under repair. It was still under repair, in fact, but he could see more men around it and high up on the tower. There was a definite suggestion that repair work was suddenly going a lot faster.
    As he watched, he was sure he saw someone fall off. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go over there and see if he could help, though, not if he wanted to continue to go through life with his own teeth. Besides, it was a long, long drop all the way down to the cabbage fields, handily combining death and burial at the same time.
    He speeded up again when he reached the city. Somehow trotting up to the Post Office steps was not an option. The queue— still a queue—cheered when he cantered up.
    Mr. Groat came running out, insofar as a crab can run.
    “Can you make another delivery to Sto Lat, sir?” he shouted. “Got a full bag already! And everyone’s asking when you’ll be taking ’em to Pseudopolis and Quirm! Got one here for Lancre, too!”
    “What? That’s five hundred damn miles, man!”
    Moist dismounted, although the state of his legs turned the action into more of a drop.
    “It’s all got a bit busy since you were away,” said Groat, steadying him. “Oh, yes indeed! Ain’t got enough people! But there’s people wanting jobs, too, sir, since the paper came out! People from the old postal families, just like me! Even some more workers out of retirement! I took the liberty of taking them on pro tem for the time being, seeing as I’m acting postmaster. I hope that’s all right with you, sir? And Mr. Spools is running off more stamps! I’ve twice had to send Stanley up for more. I hear