Making Money (Discworld 36)

'Pretty soon, yes,' he ventured.

The secretary handed Vetinari a small box.

'That's the box for your signet ring,' said Moist.

'Well done, Mr Lipwig, observant as ever! Do take it.'

Guardedly, Moist picked up the ring. It was black and had an odd, organic feel to it. The V seemed to stare at him.

'Do you find anything unusual about it?' said Vetinari, watching him carefully.

'Feels warm,' said Moist.

'Yes it does, doesn't it,' said Vetinari. 'That is because it is made of stygium. It's called a metal, but I strongly believe that it is an alloy, and a magically constructed one at that. The dwarfs sometimes find it in the Loko region, and it is extremely expensive. One day I shall write a monograph on its fascinating history, but for now all I will say is that it is usually only of interest to those who by inclination or lifestyle move in darkness  -  and also, of course, to those who find a life without danger hardly worth living. It can kill, you see. In direct sunshine it heats within a few seconds to a temperature that will melt iron. No one knows why.'

Moist glanced up at the hazy sky. The boiled-egg glow of the sun drifted into another bank of fog. The ring cooled.

'Occasionally there is a fad among young assassins for stygium rings. Classically, they wear an ornate black glove over the ring during the day. It's all about risk, Mr Lipwig. It's about living with Death in your pocket. I swear, there are people who will pull a tiger's tail for mischief. Of course, people who are interested in coolth rather than danger just wear the glove. Be that as it may, less than two weeks ago the only man in the city who carries a stock of stygium and knows how to work it was murdered, late at night. The murderer dropped a peppermint bomb afterwards. Who do you think did it?'

I'm not going to look up, thought Moist. This is just a game. He wants me to sweat. 'What was taken?' he said.

'The Watch does not know because, you see, what was taken was, de facto, not there.'

'All right, what was left behind?' said Moist, and thought: he's not looking at the sky, either...

'Some gems and a few ounces of stygium in the safe,' said Vetinari. 'You didn't ask how the man was killed.'

'How was - '

'Crossbow shot to the head, while he was seated. Is this exciting, Mr Lipwig?'

'Hit man, then,' said Moist desperately. 'It was planned. He didn't pay a debt. Perhaps he was a fence and tried to pull a scam. There's not enough information!'

'There never is,' said Vetinari. 'My cap comes back from the cleaners subtly changed, and a young man who works there dies in a brawl. A former gardener here comes in at dead of night to buy a rather worn pair of Drumknott's old boots. Why? Perhaps we shall never know. Why was a picture of myself stolen from the Royal Art Gallery last month? Who benefits?'

'Uh, why was this stygium left in the safe?'

'Good question. The key was in the man's pocket. So what is our motive?'

'Not enough information! Revenge? Silence? Maybe he's made something he shouldn't? Can you make a dagger out of this stuff?'

'Ah, I think you are getting warm, Mr Lipwig. Not about a weapon, because accretions of stygium much bigger than a ring tend to explode without warning. But he was a rather greedy man, that is true.'

'An argument over something?' said Moist. Yes, I am getting warm, thank you! And what are the tongs for? To pick it up after it's dropped through my hand?

The light was growing; he could see faint shadows on the wall, he felt the sweat trickle down his spine -

'An interesting thought. Do give me that ring back,' said Vetinari, proffering the box.

Hah! So it was just a show to scare me, after all, Moist thought, flicking the wretched ring into the box. I've never even heard of stygium before! He must have made it up -

He sensed the heat and saw the ring blaze white-hot as it fell into the box. The lid snapped shut, leaving a purple hole in Moist's vision.

'Remarkable, isn't it?' said Vetinari. 'Incidentally, I think you were needlessly silly to hold it all that time. I'm not a monster, you know.'

No, monsters don't play tricks with your brain, thought Moist. At least, while it's still inside your head...

'Look, about Owlswick, I didn't mean - ' he began, but Vetinari held up a hand.