Making Money

In the booming city golems were worth their weight in gold. They would accept small wages but they earned them for twenty-four hours a day. It was still a bargain — stronger than trolls, more reliable than oxen, and more indefatigable and intelligent than a dozen of each, a golem could power every machine in a workshop.

This didn't make them popular. There was always a reason to dislike a golem. They didn't drink, eat, gamble, swear or smile. They worked. If a fire broke out, they hurried en masse to put it out and then walked back to what they had been doing. No one knew why a creature that had been baked into life had the urge to do this, but all it won them was a kind of awkward resentment. You couldn't be grateful to an unmoving face with glowing eyes.

'How many are down there?' said Moist.

'I told you. Four.'

Moist felt relieved. 'Well, that's good. Well done. Can we have a proper celebratory meal tonight? Of something the animal wasn't so attached to? And then, who knows—'

'There may be a snag,' said Adora Belle slowly.

'No, really?'

'Oh, please.' Adora Belle sighed. 'Look, the Umnians were the first golem-builders, do you understand? Golem legend says that the Umnians invented golems. It's easy to believe, too. Some priest baking a votive offering says the right words, and the clay sits up. It was their only invention. They didn't need any more. Golems built their city, golems tilled their fields. They invented the wheel, but as a children's toy. They didn't need wheels, you see. You don't need weapons, either, when you've got golems instead of city walls. You don't even need shovels—'

'You're not going to tell me they built fifty-foot-high killer golems, are you?'

'Only a man would think of that.'

'It's our job,' said Moist. 'If you don't think of fifty-foot-high killer golems first, someone else will.'

'Well, there's no evidence of them,' said Adora Belle briskly. 'The Umnians never even worked iron. They did work bronze, though… and gold.'

There was something about the way 'gold' was left hanging there that Moist didn't like.

'Gold,' he said.

'Umnian is the most complex language ever,' said Adora Belle quickly. 'None of the Trust golems know much about it, so we can't be certain—'

'Gold,' said Moist, but his voice was leaden.

'So when the digging team found caves down there we came up with a plan. The tunnel was getting unstable anyway so they closed it off, we said it had collapsed, and by now some of the team will have brought the golems out under the sea and are bringing them underwater all the way into the city,' said Adora Belle.

Moist pointed at the golem's arm in its bag, 'That one isn't gold,' he said hopefully.

'We found a lot of golem remains about halfway down,' said Adora Belle with a sigh. 'The others are deeper… er, perhaps because they're heavier.'

'Gold's twice the weight of lead,' said Moist gloomily.

'The buried golem is singing in Umnian,' said Adora Belle. 'I can't be certain of our translation, so I thought, let's start by getting them into Ankh-Morpork, where they'll be safe.'

Moist took a deep breath. 'Do you know how much trouble you can get into by breaking a contract with a dwarf?'

'Oh, come on! I'm not starting a war!'

'No, you're starting a legal action! And with the dwarfs that's even worse! You told me the contract said you couldn't take precious metals off the land!'

'Yes, but these are golems. They're alive.'

'Look, you've taken—'

'—may have taken—'

'—all right, may have taken, good grief, tons of gold out of dwarf land—'

'Golem Trust land—'

'All right, but there was a covenant! Which you broke when you took—'

'—didn't take. It walked off by itself,' said Adora Belle calmly.

'For heavens' sake, only a woman could think like this! You think because you believe there's a perfectly good justification for your actions the legal issues don't matter! And here am I, this close to persuading people here that a dollar doesn't have to be round and shiny and I'm finding that at any minute four big shiny beaming golems are going to stroll into town, waving and glittering at everybody!'

'There's no need to get hysterical,' said Adora Belle.

'Yes, there is! What there isn't a need for is staying calm!'

'Yes, but that's when you come alive, right? That's when your brain works best. You always find a way, right?'

And there was nothing you could do about a woman like that. She just turned herself into a hammer and you ran right into her.

Fortunately.

They'd reached the entrance to the university. Above them loomed the forbidding statue of Alberto Malich, the founder. It had a chamber pot on its head. This had inconvenienced the pigeon which, by family tradition, spent most of its time perched on Alberto's head and now wore on its own head a miniature version of the same pottery receptacle.

Must be Rag Week again, thought Moist. Students, eh? Love 'em or hate 'em, you're not allowed to hit 'em with a shovel.