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The air seemed to glitter as the troll stood up, shimmering as he spoke. His voice appeared to come from twilight canyons far away. It wasn’t just sound, it had a presence in its own right.
‘Yes, that is so. Sir Harry, I suggest now that even though you have a handshake deal with Mister Simnel, there should be three shares in this enterprise, to avoid deadlock, with the third and very small share in the hands of the city, to wit, Lord Vetinari. The purpose of the arrangement is in case Mister Simnel and you, Sir Harry, are unable to agree on a matter connected with what we are all calling the “railway”. Lord Vetinari will have the casting vote to end that deadlock. But the city will not take any dividends; its income will come, as always, from straightforward taxation, which I am sure Lord Vetinari will consider an important part of this enterprise.
‘The small print will be a little more complicated, and of course if Mister Simnel’s locomotives catch on there will be opportunities to sell extra shares in the future. If you both agree, gentlemen, I will deal with that aspect and you may be certain that in compliance with Sir Harry’s instructions Mister Simnel and his family will have a significant share in the business.’
As slowly as he had stood up, Mr Thunderbolt sat down again, and Moist von Lipwig and Sir Harry King looked at one another.
Harry, beaming, said, ‘I suppose I’d better get the lad in, then,’ and nodded to Thunderbolt to open the door.
A few minutes later Dick Simnel sat uncomfortably in his seat, trying not to make anything greasy, without much hope and even less success.
Harry appeared not to notice and said cheerfully, ‘Now then, lad, it’s like this. You reckon that with enough money you could make engines larger and more powerful than Iron Girder, right? And with long enough, er, rails, you could get to all the other cities? Well, lad, I’ll bankroll you in this enterprise until you’re in a position to prove that this is possible.’
He stopped talking for a moment, looked at the ceiling and said, ‘Tell me: how long d’you think that’ll be?’
The engineer looked thoughtful and somewhat baffled and said, ‘I couldn’t rightly say, sir, but the more the money jingles the faster the wheels’ll turn. I mean, if I can hire the best skilled workers and, well, sir, I’ve made my calculations, done a lot of testing and I reckon I could have a new engine ready for …’
Moist held his breath.
‘One thousand dollars.’
Moist glanced at the face of Harry King, who flicked the ash from his cigar and said, in a deadpan way, ‘A thousand dollars? And how soon can you have it on the rails, lad?’
Simnel took his small sliding device out of his pocket, played with it for a minute or so and said, ‘How about two months?’ He fiddled with the device again and added, ‘Around teatime.’
Moist was fidgeting at this point, and he chimed in with, ‘Excuse me, I know you said that Simnels have been working on steam for years and that other people might have been too, but do you know if anybody else has anything like this? Might they steal a march on you even if they don’t have your secrets?’
To his surprise Simnel said cheerfully, ‘Oh yes, sir, about four or five of them, but none of them have yet produced even a working concept like Iron Girder. They’re making all t’mistakes my dad did, and making a few others of their own an’ all, from what I hear. Superheated steam doesn’t give you a chance. Get it wrong and it’ll tek t’flesh off your bones. Now me, sir, well, I’m a stickler for measurements, tiny teeny weeny measurements. They ain’t very exciting but that’s the soul and centre of being an engineering artificer.
‘Unfortunately, my granddad and my dad were a bit slapdash about them, seeing as they didn’t have the proper knowing of them, but measurements is your saving grace if you want to raise steam. Me mum paid for me to get a better learning, being as ’er side of the family had money from …’ he paused, ‘fishing, and one of my uncles made theodolites and other delicate instruments, and I thought to meself, well, this is very helpful, especially when he taught me ’ow to blow glass, and what I need glass for is my own little secret …’
Simnel looked anxious for a moment and said, ‘I’ll need a shedload of iron, especially for t’tracks themselves. And, of course, then there’s the question of laying t’tracks through people’s land … someone’ll have to talk to the landowners. I’m an engineer, always will be, and I’m not sure I know how to ’aggle with the big nobs.’
‘Ah, as it happens we have a born haggler with us right now,’ said Harry. ‘What do you say, Mister Lipwig? Do you want to be a part of it?’
Moist opened his mouth to speak.
‘There you are, then, young Dick. We’ll use Mister Lipwig for any negotiations. He’s the kind of man who’d follow you into a revolving door and still come out in front. And he speaks posh, when necessary. Of course, he’s a bit of a scoundrel, but aren’t we all in this business?’
‘I don’t think I am, sir,’ said Simnel cautiously, ‘but I know what you mean. If you don’t mind, I’d like to suggest that my first track is laid all the way back to Sto Lat. Well, not exactly Sto Lat, it’s a place on the outskirts called Swine Town, there being so many pigs in the area. That’s where the rest of my gear and machinery is stored.’
Simnel looked nervously at Sir Harry, who was pursing his lips. ‘It’s a long way, lad, must be twenty-five miles or more, and you’d be right out in the sticks there.’
Moist couldn’t hold his tongue. ‘Yes! But they wouldn’t be the sticks for long, would they? Try and get fresh milk in the city … it’s always bad cheese by the time it gets to you, and then there are things like strawberries, watercress, lettuce, you know, ever
ything with a limited shelf life! The areas that have the railways’ll be more prosperous than those that don’t! It was the same at first with the clacks. Everybody said they didn’t want the towers, and now anybody who’s anybody wants one at the bottom of their garden. The Post Office’ll be on your side too, moving the mails faster and all that, and I can assure you that the Royal Bank will be right behind you, and indeed, Mister Simnel, I’ll invite you to join me in my office as soon as possible to discuss our special banking facilities …’
Harry King slapped his thigh and said, ‘Mister Lipwig, didn’t I say it: you’re a man who sees an opportunity when it’s in front of him!’
Moist smiled. ‘Well, Harry, I think it’s in front of all of us now.’
In fact, in his mind’s eye Moist could see lots of opportunities and plenty of room for problems, and here right in the middle of it all was Moist von Lipwig. It couldn’t get better than this! His smile widened, inside and out.
It wasn’t about the money. It had never been about the money. Even when it was about the money, it wasn’t entirely about the money. Well, it was slightly about the money, but most of all it was about what the dwarfs called the craic. The sheer pleasure about what you were doing and where you were doing it. He could feel the future catching him up. He could see it beckoning. But, of course, sooner or later someone would try to kill him. That usually happened, but you had to take the chance. It seemed to be a necessary part of the whole thing, whatever the whole thing actually was. You always had to take the chance. Any chance.
Harry gave Moist a sideways glance and said, over his shoulder, ‘Mister Simnel, if you’ve got a lot of your valuable stuff in a shed up there in Pig City or wherever, would you mind me sending a couple of my …’ Harry paused, seeking for a genteel wording, ‘… my useful gentlemen to keep an eye on the place for you?’
Simnel looked puzzled and said, ‘It’s really a quiet old place, sir.’
