Making Money

sad little sigh, the sign of a brain shifting down a gear. “May I remind you of the famous dictum of General Tacticus: ‘Those who desire war, prepare for war’? Our city is surrounded by a wall of creatures each one of which, I gather, could only be stopped by a siege weapon. Miss Dearheart,” he paused to give Adora Belle a sharp little smile, “has been kind enough to bring Ankh-Morpork an army capable of conquering the world, although I’m happy to accept her assurance that she didn’t actually mean to.”
    “Then why don’t we?” said Lord Downey, head of the Assassins’ Guild.
    “Ah, Lord Downey. Yes, I thought someone would say that,” said Vetinari. “Miss Dearheart? You have studied these golems.”
    “I’ve had half an hour!” Adora Belle protested. “Hopping on one foot, I might add!”
    “Nevertheless, you are our expert. And you have had the assistance of the famously deceased Professor Flead.”
    “He kept trying to see up my dress!”
    “Please, madam?”
    “They have no chem that I can get at,” said Adora Belle. “There’s no way of opening their heads! As far as we can tell they have one overriding imperative, which is to defend the city. And that’s all. It’s actually carved into their clay.”
    “Nevertheless, there is such a thing as preemptive defense. That might be construed as ‘guarding.’ In your opinion, would they attack another city?”
    “I don’t think so. Which city would you like me to test them on, my lord?” Moist shuddered. Sometimes Adora Belle just didn’t care.
    “None,” said Vetinari. “We are not going to have another wretched empire while I am Patrician. We’ve only just got over the last one. Professor Flead, have you been able to give them any instructions at all?”
    All heads turned to Flead and his portable circle, which had remained near the door out of the sheer impossibility of struggling further into the room.
    “What? No! I am certain I have the gist of Umnian, but I cannot make it move a step! I have tried every likely command, to no avail. It is most vexing!” He waved his staff at Dr. Hicks. “Come on, make yourself useful, you fellows. One more try!”
    “I think I might be able to communicate with them,” said Moist, staring at the ax, but his voice was lost in the disturbance as the grumbling students tried to manhandle the portable magic circle back through the crowded doorway.
    Let me just work out why, he thought. Yep…yep. It’s actually…simple. Far too simple for a committee.
    “As’ chairman of the, Merchant’s’ Guild gentlemen may, I point out that these thing’s represent a valuable labor force in this’ city—” said Mr. Robert Parker.
    “No slaves in Ankh-Morpork!” said Adora Belle, pointing a finger at Vetinari. “You’ve always said that!”
    Vetinari lifted an eyebrow at her. Then he held the eyebrow and raised her a further eyebrow. But Adora Belle was unabashable.
    “Miss Dearheart, you have yourself explained that they have no chem. You cannot free them. I am ruling that they are tools, and since they regard themselves as servants of the city, I will treat them as such.” He raised both hands at the general uproar, and went on: “They will not be sold and will be treated with care, as tools should be. They will work for the good of the city and—”
    “No, that would be a terribly bad idea!” A white coat was struggling to get to the front of the crowd. It was topped by a yellow rain hat.
    “And you are…?” said Vetinari.
    The figure removed its yellow hat, looked around, and went rigid. A groan managed to escape from its mouth.
    “Aren’t you Hubert Turvy?” said Vetinari. Hubert’s face remained locked in a mask of terror, so Vetinari, in a kinder tone, added, “Do you want some time to think about that last question?”
    “I…only…just heard…about…” Hubert began.
    Hubert looked around at the hundreds of faces, and blinked.
    “Mr. Turvy, the alchemist of money?” Vetinari prompted. “It may be written down on your clothes somewhere?”
    “I think I can assist here,” said Moist, and elbowed his way to the tongue-tied economist.
    “Hubert,” he said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder, “all the people are here because they want to hear your amazing theory that demonstrates the inadvisability of putting these new golems to work. You don’t want to disappoint them, do you? I know you don’t meet many people, but everyone’s heard of your