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Yes, said Moist. Perhaps I should come up and speak to you directly . . . Ten minutes later Moist crossed the road with care and smiled at his staff. Mr Pump, if you would be so good as to step over there and pry out our letters, please? he said. Try not to damage anything. Mr Hugo has been very co-operative. And Tolliver, youve lived here a long time, havent you? Youll know where to hire men with ropes, steeplejacks, that sort of thing? I want those letters back on our building by midday, okay?
Thatll cost a lot of money, Mr Lipwig, said Groat, staring at him in amazement. Moist pulled a bag out of his pocket, and jingled it. One hundred dollars should more than cover it? he said. Mr Hugo was very apologetic and very, very inclined to be helpful. Says he bought them years ago off a man in a pub and is only too happy to pay for them to be returned. Its amazing how nice people can be, if approached in the right way. There was a clang from the other side of the street. Mr Pump had already removed the H, without any apparent effort. Speak softly and employ a huge man with a crowbar, thought Moist. This might be bearable after all. The weak sunlight glinted on the S as it was swung into position. There was quite a crowd. People in Ankh-Morpork always paid attention to people on rooftops, in case there was a chance of an interesting suicide. There was a cheer, just on general principles, when the last letter was hammered back into place. Four dead men, Moist thought, looking up at the roof. I wonder if the Watch would talk to me? Do they know about me? Do they think Im dead? Do I want to speak to policemen? No! Damn! The only way I can get out of this is by running forward, not going back. Bloody, bloody Vetinari. But theres a way to win. He could make money! He was part of the government, wasnt he? Governments took money off people. Thats what they were for. He had people skills, hadnt he? He could persuade people that brass was gold that had got a bit tarnished, that glass was diamond, that tomorrow there was going to be free beer. Hed outfox them all! He wouldnt try to escape, not yet! If a golem could buy its freedom, then so could he! Hed buckle down and bustle and look busy and hed send all the bills to Vetinari, because this was government work! How could the man object? And if Moist von Lipwig couldnt cream a little somethi— a big something off the top, and the bottom, and maybe a little off the sides, then he didnt deserve to! And then, when it was all going well and the cash was rolling in . . . well, then thered be time to make plans for the big one. Enough money bought a lot of men with sledgehammers. The workmen pulled themselves back on to the flat roof. There was another ragged cheer from a
crowd that reckoned it hadnt been bad entertainment even if no one had fallen off. What do you think, Mr Groat? he said. Looks nice, sir, looks nice, said Groat, as the crowd dispersed and they walked back to the Post Office building. Not disturbing anything, then? said Moist. Groat patted the surprised Moist on the arm. I dont know why his lordship sent you, sir, really I dont, he whispered. You mean well, I can see. But take my advice, sir, and get out of here. Moist glanced towards the buildings doors. Mr Pump was standing beside them. Just standing, with his arms hanging down. The fire in his eyes was a banked glow. I cant do that, he said. Nice of you to say so, sir, but this place isnt for a young man with a future, said Groat. Now, Stanley, hes all right if hes got his pins, but you, sir, you could go far.
No-o, I dont think I can, said Moist. Honestly. My place, Mr Groat, is here.
Gods bless you for saying that, sir, gods bless you, said Groat. Tears were beginning to roll down his face. We used to be heroes, he said. People wanted us. Everyone watched out for us. Everyone knew us. This was a great place, once. Once, we were postmen! Mister! Moist turned. Three people were hurrying towards him, and he had to quell an automatic urge to turn and run, especially when one of them shouted, Yes, thats him! He recognized the greengrocer from this morning. An elderly couple were trailing behind him. The older man, who had the determined face and upright bearing of a man who subdued cabbages daily, stopped an inch in front of Moist and bellowed: Are you the postman, young man?
Yes, sir, I suppose I am, said Moist. How can I—
You delivered me this letter from Aggie here! Im Tim Parker! the man roared. Now, theres some peopled say it was a little bit on the late side!
Oh, said Moist. Well, I—
That took a bit of nerve, young man!
Im very sorry that— Moist began. People skills werent much good in the face of Mr Parker. He was one of the impervious people, whose grasp of volume control was about as good as his understanding of personal space. Sorry? Parker shouted. Whatve you got to be sorry about? Not your fault, lad. You werent even born! More fool me for thinking she didnt care, eh? Hah, I was so downhearted, lad, I went right out and joined the . . . His red face wrinkled. You know . . . camels, funny hats, sand, where you go to forget . . .
The Klatchian Foreign Legion? said Moist. That was it! And when I came back I met Sadie, and Aggie had met her Frederick, and we both got settled and forgot the other one was alive and then blow me down if this letter didnt arrive from Aggie! Me and my lad have spent half the morning tracking her down! And to cut a long story short, lad, were getting married Satday! cos of you, boy! Mr Parker was one of those men who turn into teak with age. When he slapped Moist on the back it was like being hit with a chair. Wont Frederick and Aggie object— Moist wheezed. I doubt it! Frederick passed away ten years ago and Sadies been buried up in Small Gods for the last five! Mr Barker bellowed cheerfully. And we were sorry to see them go but, as Aggie says, it was all meant to be and you was sent by a higher power. And I say it took a man with real backbone to come and deliver that letter after all this time. Theres many that would have tossed it aside like it was of no account! Youd do me and the future second Mrs Parker a great favour if you
was to be a guest of honour at our wedding, and I for one wont take no for an answer! Im Grand Master of the Guild of Merchants this year, too! We might not be posh like the Assassins or the Alchemists but theres a lot of us and I shall put in a word on your behalf, you can depend on that! My lad George here will be down later on with the invitations for you to deliver, now youre back in business! It will be a great honour for me, my boy, if you would shake me by the hand . . . He thrust out a huge hand. Moist took it, and old habits died hard. Firm grip, steady gaze . . . Ah, youre an honest man, all right, said Parker. Im never mistaken! He clapped his hand on Moists shoulder, causing a knee joint to crunch. Whats your name, lad?
Lipwig, sir. Moist von Lipwig, Moist said. He was afraid hed gone deaf in one ear. A von, eh, said Parker. Well, youre doing damn well for a foreigner, and I dont care who knows it! Got to be going now. Aggie wants to buy fripperies! The woman came up to Moist, stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. And I know a good man when I see one, she said. Do you have a young lady?
What? No! Not at all! Er . . . no! said Moist. Im sure you shall, she said, smiling sweetly. And while were very grateful to you, I would advise you to propose in person. We do so much look forward to seeing you on Saturday! Moist watched her scurry away after her long-lost swain. You delivered a letter? said Groat, horrified. Yes, Mr Groat. I didnt mean to, but I just happened to be—
You took one of the old letters and you delivered it? said Groat, as if the concept was something he could not fit into his head— His head was all over the wall . . . Moist blinked. We are supposed to deliver the mail, man! Thats our job! Remember?
You delivered a letter . . . breathed Groat. What was the date on it?
I cant remember! More than forty years ago?
What was it like? Was it in good condition? Groat insisted. Moist glared at the little postman. A small crowd was forming around them, as was the Ankh- Morpork way. It was a forty-year-old letter in a cheap envelope! he snarled. And thats what it looked like! It never got delivered and it upset the lives of two people. I delivered it and its made two people very happy. What is the problem, Mr Groat— Yes, what is it? This was to a woman who was tugging at his sleeve. I said is it true youre opening the old place again? she repeated. My grandad used to
work there!
Well done him, said Moist. He said there was a curse! said the woman, as if the idea was rather pleasing. Really? said Moist. Well, I could do with a good curse right now, as a matter of fact.
It lives under the floor and drives you maaad! she went on, enjoying the syllable so much that she seemed loath to let it go. Maaad!
Really, said Moist. Well, we do not believe in going crazy in the postal service, do we, Mr Gro— He stopped. Mr Groat had the expression of one who did believe in going crazy. You daft old woman! Groat yelled. What did you have to tell him that for?
Mr Groat! snapped Moist. I wish to speak to you inside! He grabbed the old man by the shoulder and very nearly carried him through the amused crowd, dragged him into the building and slammed the door.
Ive had enough of this! he said. Enough of dark comments and mutterings, do you understand? No more secrets. Whats going on here? What went on here? You tell me right now or— The little mans eyes were full of fear. This is not me, Moist thought. This is not the way. People skills, eh? You tell me right now, Senior Postman Groat! he snapped. The old mans eyes widened. Senior Postman?
I am the postmaster in this vicinity, yes? said Moist. That means I can promote, yes? Senior Postman, indeed. On probation, of course. Now, will you tell me what—
Dont you hurt Mr Groat, sir! said a ringing voice behind Moist. Groat looked past Moist into the gloom and said: Its all right, Stanley, theres no need for that, we dont want a Little Moment. To Moist he whispered: Best you put me down gently, sir . . . Moist did so, with exaggerated care, and turned round. The boy was standing behind him with a glazed look on his face and the big kettle raised. It was a heavy kettle. You mustnt hurt Mr Groat, sir, he said hoarsely. Moist pulled a pin out of his lapel. Of course not, Stanley. By the way, is this a genuine Clayfeather Medium Sharp? Stanley dropped the kettle, suddenly oblivious of everything but the inch of silvery steel between Moists fingers. One hand was already pulling out his magnifying glass. Let me see, let me see, he said, in a level, thoughtful voice. Oh, yes. Ha. No, sorry. Its an easy mistake to make. Look at the marks on the shoulder, here. See? And the head was never coiled. This is machine-made. Probably by one of the Happily brothers. Short run, I imagine. Hasnt got their sigil, though. Could have been done by a creative apprentice. Not worth much, Im afraid, unless you find someone who specializes in the minutiae of the Happily pinnery.
Ill, er, just make a cup of tea, shall I? said Groat, picking up the kettle as it rolled backwards and forwards on the floor. Well done again, Mr Lipwig. Er . . . Senior Postman Groat, right?
Off you go with, yes, probationary Senior Postman Groat, Stanley, said Moist, as kindly as he could manage. He looked up and added sharply: I just want to talk to Mr Pump here. Stanley looked round at the golem, who was right behind him. It was astonishing how quietly a golem could move; hed crossed the floor like a shadow and now stood with one still fist raised like the wrath of gods. Oh, I didnt see you standing there, Mr Pump, said Stanley cheerfully. “Why is your hand up? The holes in the golems face bathed the boy in red light. I . . . Wanted To Ask The Postmaster A Question? said the golem slowly. Oh. All right, said Stanley, as if he hadnt been about to brain Moist a moment before. Do you want your pin back, Mr Lipwig? he added, and when Moist waved him away he went on, All right, Ill put it in next months charity pin auction. When the door had shut behind him, Moist looked up at the golems impassive face. You lied to him. Are you allowed to lie, Mr Pump? he said. And you can lower that arm, by the way.
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