Making Money (Discworld 36)

The street shook again.

'Four thousand golems, I think you'll find,' said Flead cheerfully. 'Oh, and here they are now!'

They came along the streets six abreast, wall to wall and ten feet high. Water and mud cascaded off them. The city echoed to their tread.

They did not trample people, but mere market stalls and coaches splintered under their massive feet. They spread out as they moved, fanning out across the city, thundering down side streets, heading for the gates which in Ankh-Morpork were always open, because there was no point in discouraging customers.

And there were the horses, perhaps no more than a score in all the hurrying throng, saddles built into the clay of their backs, overtaking the two-legged golems, and not a man watched but thought: where can I get one of those?

One man-shaped golem alone stopped in the middle of Sator Square, raised a fist as if in salute, dropped on one knee, and went still. The horses halted beside it, as if awaiting riders.

The rest of the golems marched on with the sound of thunder, heading out of the city. And when the many-walled city of Ankh-Morpork had one more wall, out beyond the gates, they stopped. As one, they raised their right hands in a fist. Shoulder to shoulder, ringing the city, the golems... guarded. Silence fell.

In Sator Square, Commander Vimes looked up at the poised fist and then at Moist.

'Am I under arrest?' said Moist meekly.

Vimes sighed. 'Mr Lipwig,' he said, 'there's no word for what you are.'

The palace's big ground-floor council chamber was packed. Most people had to stand. Every guild, every interest group and everyone who just wanted to say they had been there... was there. The crowd overflowed into the palace grounds and out on to the streets. Children were climbing on the golem in the square, despite the efforts of the watchmen who were guarding it.[9]

There was a large axe buried in the big table, Moist noticed; the force of it had split the wood. It had clearly been there for some time. Perhaps it was some kind of warning, or some kind of symbol. This was a council of war, after all, but without the war.

'However, we are already getting some very threatening notes from the other cities,' said Lord Vetinari, 'so it is only a matter of time.'

'Why?' said Archchancellor Ridcully of Unseen University, who had managed to get a seat by dint of elevating its protesting occupant out of it. 'All the things are doin' is standin' around outside the walls, yes?'

'Quite so,' said Vetinari. 'And it's called aggressive defence. That is practically a declaration of war.' He gave a sad little sigh, the sign of a brain shifting down a gear. 'May I remind you of the famous dictum of General Tacticus: "Those who desire war, prepare for war"? Our city is surrounded by a wall of creatures each one of which, I gather, could only be stopped by a siege weapon. Miss Dearheart'  -  he paused to give Adora Belle a sharp little smile  -  'has been kind enough to bring Ankh-Morpork an army capable of conquering the world, although I'm happy to accept her assurance that she didn't actually mean to.'

'Then why don't we?' said Lord Downey, head of the Assassins' Guild.

'Ah, Lord Downey. Yes, I thought someone would say that,' said Vetinari. 'Miss Dearheart? You have studied these golems.'

'I've had half an hour!' Adora Belle protested. 'Hopping on one foot, I might add!'

'Nevertheless, you are our expert. And you have had the assistance of the famously deceased Professor Flead.'

'He kept trying to see up my dress!'

'Please, madam?'

'They have no chem that I can get at,' said Adora Belle. 'There's no way of opening their heads. As far as we can tell they have one overriding imperative, which is to defend the city. And that's all. It's actually carved into their clay.'

'Nevertheless, there is such a thing as pre-emptive defence. That might be considered as "guarding". In your opinion, would they attack another city?'

'I don't think so. Which city would you like me to test them on, my lord?' Moist shuddered. Sometimes Adora Belle just didn't care.

'None,' said Vetinari. 'We are not going to have another wretched empire while I am Patrician. We've only just got over the last one. Professor Flead, have you been able to give them any instructions at all?'

All heads turned to Flead and his portable circle, which had remained near the door out of the sheer impossibility of struggling further into the room.

'What? No! I am certain I have the gist of Umnian, but I cannot make it move a step! I have tried every likely command, to no avail. It is most vexing!' He waved his staff at Dr Hicks. 'Come on, make yourself useful, you fellows. One more try!'

'I think I might be able to communicate with them,' said Moist, staring at the axe, but his voice was lost in the disturbance as the grumbling students tried to manhandle the portable magic circle back through the crowded doorway.

Let me just work out why, he thought. Yep... yep. It's actually... simple. Far too simple for a committee.

'As' chairman of the, Merchant's' Guild gentlemen may, I point out that these thing's represent a valuable labour force in this' city - ' said Mr Robert Parker.[10]