Making Money

wonderful work. Can you help them understand what you just shouted?”
    “We are agog,” said Lord Vetinari.
    In Hubert’s head, the rising terror of crowds was overturned by the urge to impart knowledge to the ignorant, which meant everyone except him. His hands grasped the lapels of his jacket. He cleared his throat.
    “Well, the problem is that, considered as a labor force, the golems are capable of doing the work per day of one hundred and twenty thousand men.”
    “Think of what they could do for the city!” said Mr. Cowslick of the Artificers’ Guild.
    “Well, yes. To begin with, they would put one hundred and twenty thousand men out of work,” said Hubert, “but that would only be the start. They do not require food, clothing or shelter. Most people spend their money on food, shelter, clothing, entertainment, and, not least, taxes. What would these golems spend it on? The demand for many things would drop and further unemployment would result. You see, circulation is everything. The money goes around, creating wealth as it goes.”
    “You seem to be saying that these things could beggar us!” said Vetinari.
    “There would be…difficult times,” said Hubert.
    “Then what course of action do you propose, Mr. Turvy?”
    Hubert looked puzzled. “I don’t know, sir. I didn’t know I had to find solutions as well.”
    “Any of the other cities would attack us if they had these golems,” said Lord Downey, “and surely we don’t have to think of their jobs, do we? Surely a little bit of conquest would be in order?”
    “An empirette, perhaps?” said Vetinari sourly. “We use our slaves to create more slaves? But do we want to face the whole world in arms? For that is what we would do, at the finish. The best that we could hope for is that some of us would survive. The worst is that we would triumph. Triumph and rot. That is the lesson of history, Lord Downey. Are we not rich enough?”
    That started another clamor.
    Moist, unnoticed, pushed his way through the heaving crowd until he reached Dr. Hicks and his crew, who were fighting their way back to the big golem.
    “Can I come with you, please?” he said. “I want to try something.”
    Hicks nodded, but while the portable circle was being dragged out in the street, he said, “I think Miss Dearheart tried everything. The professor was very impressed.”
    “There’s something she didn’t try. Trust me. Talking of trust, who are these lads holding the blanket?”
    “My students,” said Hicks, trying to keep the circle steady.
    “They want to study necro—er, postmortem communications? Why?”
    “Apparently it’s good for getting girls,” sighed Hicks. There were sniggers.
    “In a necromancy department? What kind of girls do they get?”
    “No, it’s because when they graduate they get to wear the hooded black robe and the skull ring. I think the term one of them used was ‘babe magnet.’”
    “But I thought wizards aren’t allowed to marry?”
    “Marriage?” said Hicks. “Oh, I don’t think they are concerned about that.”
    “We never were in my day!” shouted Flead, who was being shaken back and forth as the circle was dragged through the crowds. “Can’t you blast some of these people with Black Fire, Hicks? You’re a necromancer, for the sake of the seven hells! You are not supposed to be nice! Now that I can see what’s going on I think I shall have to spend a lot more time in the department!”
    “Could I have a quiet word?” whispered Moist to Hicks. “The lads can manage by themselves, can’t they? Tell them to catch up with us at the big golem.”
    He hurried on, and was not at all surprised to find Hicks hurrying to catch up with him. He pulled the not-really-a-necromancer into the shelter of a doorway and said: “Do you trust your students?”
    “Are you mad?”
    “It’s just that I have a little plan to save the day, the downside of which is that Professor Flead will no longer, alas, be available to you in your department.”
    “By ‘unavailable’ you mean…?”
    “Alas, you would never see him again,” said Moist. “I can tell that would be a blow.”
    Hicks coughed. “Oh dear. He wouldn’t be able to come back at all?”
    “I think not.”
    “Are you sure?” said Hicks carefully. “No possibility?”
    “I’m pretty sure.”
    “Hm. Well, of course, it would indeed be a blow.”
    “A big blow. A big blow,” Moist agreed.
    “I wouldn’t want him…hurt, of