Making Money

Harry. “Now I’m off to buy some land.”
    There was some uncertain murmuring from the crowd, as he departed. The new deposit had thrown them. It had thrown Moist, too. People were wondering what Harry King knew. So did Moist. It was a terrible thing, to have someone like Harry believing in you.
    Now the crowd had evolved a spokesman, who said, “Look, what’s going on? Has the gold gone or not?”
    “I don’t know,” said Moist. “I haven’t had a look today.”
    “You say that as if it doesn’t matter,” said Sacharissa.
    “Well, as I have explained,” Moist said, “the city is still here. The bank is still here. I am still here.” He cast a glance toward Harry King’s broad, retreating back. “For the moment. So we don’t need the gold cluttering up the place, do we?”
    Cosmo Lavish appeared in the door behind Moist. “So, Mr. Lipwig, it would appear that you are a trickster to the end.”
    “I beg your pardon?” said Moist.
    Other members of the ad hoc audit committee were pushing their way out, looking satisfied. They had, after all, been woken up very early in the morning, and those who are awakened very early in the morning expect to kill before breakfast.
    “Have you finished already?” said Moist.
    “Surely you must know why we were brought here,” said one of the bankers. “You know very well that last night the City Watch found no gold in your vaults. We can confirm this unhappy state of affairs.”
    “Oh well, you know how it is with money,” said Moist. “You think you are flat-broke and there it was all the time in your other trousers.”
    “No, Mr. Lipwig, the joke is on you,” said Cosmo. “The bank is a sham.”
    He raised his voice. “I would advise all the investors you have misled to take their money back while they can!”
    “No! Squad, to me!”
    Commander Vimes pushed his way through the bewildered bankers at the same time as half a dozen troll officers pounded up the steps and ended up shoulder to shoulder in front of the double doors.
    “Are you a bloody fool, sir?” said Vimes, nose to nose with Cosmo. “That sounded to me like incitement to riot! This bank is closed until further notice!”
    “I am a director of the bank, Commander,” said Cosmo. “You cannot keep me out.”
    “Watch me,” said Vimes. “I suggest you direct your complaint to his lordship. Sergeant Detritus!”
    “Yessir!”
    “Nobody goes in there without a chitty signed by me. And Mr. Lipwig, you will not leave the city, understood?”
    “Yes, Commander.” Moist turned to Cosmo. “You know, you’re not looking well,” he said. “That’s not a good complexion you have there.”
    “No more words, Lipwig.” Cosmo leaned down. Up close, his face looked even worse, like the face of a wax doll, if a wax doll could sweat. “We’ll meet in court. It’s the end of the road, Mr. Lipwig. Or should I say…Mr. Spangler?”
    Oh, gods, I should have done something about Cribbins, thought Moist. I was too busy trying to make money…
    And there was Adora Belle, being ushered through the crowd by a couple of watchmen who were also acting as crutches. Vimes hurried down the steps as if he’d been expecting her.
    Moist became aware that the background noise of the city was getting louder. The crowd had noticed it too. Somewhere, something big was happening, and this little confrontation was just a sideshow.
    “You think you are clever, Mr. Lipwig?” said Cosmo.
    “No, I know I am clever. I think I’m unlucky,” said Moist. But he thought: I didn’t have that many customers, surely? I can hear screams!
    With triumphant shouting behind him, he pushed his way down to Adora Belle and the cluster of coppers.
    “Your golems, right?” he said.
    “Every golem in the city just stopped moving,” said Adora Belle. Their gazes met.
    “They’re coming?” said Moist.
    “Yes, I think they are.”
    “Who are?” said Vimes suspiciously.
    “Er, them?” said Moist, pointing.
    A few people came running around the corner from the Maul and sprinted, gray-faced, past the crowd outside the bank. But they were only the flecks of foam driven before the tidal wave of people fleeing from the river area, and the wave of people broke on the bank as if it was a rock in the way of the flood.
    Floating on the sea of heads, as it were, was a circular canvas about ten feet across, of the sort that gets used to catch people who very wisely jump from burning buildings. The four people carrying it