Making Money

compliment.”
    “And just to keep your monkey happy, I’ll deposit the deeds of the paper mill, the big yard, and a few other properties,” said Harry. “Give ’em to the man, Wallace.”
    “You should have said that in the first place, Mr. King,” said Moist, as some impressive scrolls were handed over.
    “Yeah, but I didn’t. Wanted to make sure of you. When can I have my money?”
    “Soon. When I’ve printed it.”
    Harry King wrinkled his nose. “Oh, yeah, the paper stuff. Me, I like money that clinks, but Wallace here says paper’s the coming thing.” He winked. “And it’s not like I can complain, since ol’ Spools buys his paper off ’f me these days. Can’t turn me nose up at me own manufacture now, can I? Good day to you, sir!”
    Mr. Bent strode back into the office twenty minutes later, his face like a tax demand, to find Moist staring vaguely at a sheet of paper on the worn green leather of the desk.
    “Sir, I must protest—”
    “Did you nail him down to a good rate?” said Moist.
    “I pride myself that I did, but the way you—”
    “We will do well out of Harry King, Mr. Bent, and he will do well out of us.”
    “But you’re turning my bank into some sort of—”
    “Not counting our friend Harry, we took in more than four thousand dollars today,” said Moist briskly. “Most of them were from what you’d call poor people, but there’s far more of them than rich people. We can set that money to work. And we won’t lend to scoundrels this time, don’t you worry about that. I’m a scoundrel, and I can spot them a mile off. Please pass on our compliments to the counter staff. And now, Mr. Bent, Mr. Fusspot and I are going to see a man about making money.”

    TEEMER AND SPOOLS had gone up in the world because of the big stamp contract. They’d always done the best printing work in any case, but now they had the men and muscle to bid for all the big contracts. And you could trust them. Moist always felt rather guilty when he went into the place; Teemer and Spools seemed to represent everything that he only pretended to be.
    There were plenty of lights on when he went in. And Mr. Spools was in his office, writing in a ledger. He looked up and, when he saw Moist, smiled the smile you save for your very best customer.
    “Mr. Lipwig! What can I do for you? Do take a seat! We don’t see so much of you these days!”
    Moist sat and chatted, because Mr. Spools liked to chat.
    Things were difficult. Things were always difficult. There were a lot more presses around these days. T&S were staying ahead of the game by staying on top of it. Regrettably, said Mr. Spools, with a straight face, their “friendly” rivals, the wizards at Unseen University Press, had come a cropper with their talking books—
    “Talking books? That sounds a good idea,” said Moist.
    “Quite possibly,” said Spools, with a sniff. “But these weren’t meant to talk, and certainly not to complain about the quality of their glue and the hamfistedness of the typesetter. And of course now the university can’t pulp them.”
    “Why not?”
    “Think of the screaming! No, I pride myself that we are still riding the wave. Er…was there something special you wanted?”
    “What can you do with this?” said Moist, putting one of the new dollars on the table.
    Spools picked it up and read it carefully. Then, in a faraway voice, he said: “I did hear something. Does Vetinari know you’re planning this?”
    “Mr. Spools, I’ll bet he knows my shoe size and what I had for breakfast.”
    The printer put down the bill as if it were ticking.
    “I can see what you are doing. Such a small thing, and yet so dangerous.”
    “Can you print them?” said Moist. “Oh, not that one. I made up a batch just to test the idea. I meant high-quality bank notes, if I can find an artist to draw them.”
    “Oh, yes. We are a byword for quality. We’re building a new press to keep pace with demand. But what about security?”
    “What, in here? No one has ever bothered you so far, have they?”
    “No, they haven’t. But up until now we haven’t had lots of money lying around, if you see what I mean.”
    Spools held the note up and let it go. It wafted gently from side to side until it landed on the desk.
    “So light, too,” he went on. “A few thousand dollars would be no problem to carry.”
    “But kind of hard to melt down. Look, build the new press in the Mint. There’s a lot of space. End of