Making Money

And gold is the anchor, is it? Moist thought.

He looked around the huge space. There were about a dozen people working there, if you included the golem, whom Moist had learned to think of as part of a species to be treated as 'human for a given value of human', and the pimply boy who made the tea, whom he hadn't.

'You don't seem to need many people,' he said.

'Ah, well, we only do the silver and gold—'

'Gold-ish,' Mr Bent intervened quickly.

'—gold-ish coins here, you see. And unusual stuff, like medals. We make the blanks for the copper and brass, but the outworkers do the rest.'

'Outworkers? A mint with outworkers?

'That's right, sir. Like the widows. They work at home. Huh, you couldn't expect the old dears to totter in here, most of 'em need two sticks to get about!'

'The Mint… that is, the place that makes money… employs people who work at home? I mean, I know it's fashionable, but I mean… well, don't you think it's odd?'

'Gods bless you, sir, there are families out there who've been making a few coppers every evening for generations!' said Shady happily. 'Dad doing the basic punching, mum chasing and finishing, the kids cleanin' and polishin'… it's traditional. Our outworkers are like one big family.'

'Okay, but what about security?'

'If they steal so much as a farthing they can be hanged,' said Bent. 'It counts as treason, you know.'

'What kind of families are you used to?' said Moist, aghast.

'I must point out that no one ever has, though, because they're very loyal,' said the foreman, glaring at Bent.

'It used to be a hand cut off for a first offence,' said Mr Bent the family man.

'Do they make a lot of money?' said Moist, carefully, getting between the two men. 'I mean, in terms of wages?'

'About fifteen dollars a month. It's detailed work,' said Shady. 'Some of the old ladies don't get as much. We get a lot of bad elims.'

Moist stared up at the Bad Penny. It rose through the central well of the building and looked gossamer-frail for something so big. The lone golem plodding along inside had a slate hanging around its neck, which meant it was one of those that couldn't talk. Moist wondered if the Golem Trust knew about it. They had amazing ways of finding golems.

As he watched, the wheel swung gently to a halt. The silent golem stood still.

'Tell me,' said Moist. 'Why bother with gold-ish coins? Why not just, well, make the dollars out of gold? Did you get a lot of clipping and sweating?'

'I'm surprised a gentleman like you knows them names, sir,' said the foreman, taken aback.

'I take a keen interest in the criminal mind,' said Moist, slightly faster than he'd intended. It was true. You just needed a talent for introspection.

'Good for you, sir. Oh yes, we've had them tricks and a lot more, oh yes! I swear we see 'em all. And painting an' plating an' plugging. Even re-casting, sir, adulterated with copper, very neat. I swear, sir, there are people out there that will spend two days scheming and fiddling to make the amount of money they could earn by honest means in one day!'

'No! Really?'

'As I stand here, sir,' said Shady. 'And what kind o' sane mind does that?'

Well, mine, once upon a time, Moist thought. It was more fun. 'I really don't know,' he said.

'So the city council said the dollars were to be gold-ish, mostly navy brass to tell you the truth, 'cos it shines up nice. Oh, they still forge, sir, but it's hard to get right and the Watch comes down heavily on 'em and at least no one's nicking the gold,' said Shady. 'Is that all, sir? Only we've got stuff to finish before our knocking-off time, you see, and if we stay late we have to make more money to pay our overtime, and if the lads is a bit tired we ends up earning the money faster'n we can make it, which leads to a bit of what I can only call a conundrum—'

'You mean that if you do overtime you have to do more overtime to pay for it?' said Moist, still pondering on how illogical logical thinking can be if a big enough committee is doing it.

'That's right, sir,' said Shady. 'And down that road madness lies.'

'It's a very short road,' said Moist, nodding. 'But one last thing, if I may. What do you do about security?'

Bent coughed. 'The Mint is impossible to get into from outside the bank once it is locked, Mr Lipwig. By arrangement with the Watch, off-duty officers patrol both buildings at night, with some of our own guards. They wear proper bank uniforms in here, of course, because the Watch is so shabby, but they ensure a professional approach, you understand.'

Well, yes, thought Moist, who suspected that his experience of coppers was rather more in-depth than that of Bent. The money is probably safe, but I bet you get through a hell of a lot of coffee and pens.

'I was thinking about… during the day,' he said. The Men of the Sheds were watching him with blank stares.

'Oh, that,' said Mr Shady. 'We do that ourselves. We take turns. Boy Charlie's the Security this week. Show him your truncheon, Charlie.'