Discworld 33 Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

Author:Terry Pratchett [Pratchett, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf
Published: 2011-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

There was a stir in the crowd as Moist crossed the street. To his unspeakable relief he saw Mr Spools, standing with one of the serious men from his printery. Spools hurried over to him.

‘I, er, have several thousand of both of the, er, items,' he whispered, pulling out a package from under his coat. ‘Pennies and twopennies. They're not the best we can do but I thought you might be in want of them. We heard the clacks was down again.'

‘You're a life saver, Mr Spools. If you could just take them inside. By the way, how much is a clacks message to Sto Lat?'

‘Even a very short message would be at least thirty pence, I think,' said the engraver.

‘Thank you.' Moist stood back and cupped his hands. ‘Ladies and gentlemen!' he shouted. ‘The Post Office will be open in five minutes for the sale of penny and twopenny stamps! In addition, we will be taking mail for Sto Lat! First express delivery to Sto Lat leaves on the hour, ladies and gentlemen, to arrive this morning. The cost will be ten pence per standard envelope! I repeat, ten pence! The Royal Mail, ladies and gentlemen! Accept no substitutes! Thank you!'

There was a stir from the crowd, and several people hurried away.

Moist led Mr Spools into the building, politely closing the door in the face of the crowd. He felt the tingle he always felt when the game was afoot. Life should be made of moments like this, he decided. With his heart singing, he poured out orders.

‘Stanley!'

‘Yes, Mr Lipwig?' said the boy, behind him.

‘Run along to Hobson's Livery Stable and tell them I want a good fast horse, right? Something with a bit of fizz in its blood! Not some feagued-up old screw, and I know the difference! I want it here in half an hour! Off you go! Mr Groat?'

‘Yessir!' Groat actually saluted.

‘Rig up some kind of table for a counter, will you?' said Moist. ‘In five minutes, we open to accept mail and sell stamps! I'm taking letters to Sto Lat while the clacks is down and you're Acting Postmaster while I'm gone! Mr Spools!'

‘I'm right here, Mr Lipwig. You really don't have to shout,' said the engraver reproachfully.

‘Sorry, Mr Spools. More stamps, please. I'll need some to take with me, in case there's mail to come back. Can you do that? And I'll need the fives and the dollar stamps as soon as— Are you all right, Mr Groat?'

The old man was swaying, his lips moving soundlessly.

‘Mr Groat?' Moist repeated.

‘Acting Postmaster...' mumbled Groat.

‘That's right, Mr Groat.'

‘No Groat has ever been Acting Postmaster...' Suddenly Groat dropped to his knees and gripped Moist round the legs. ‘Oh, thank you, sir! I won't let you down, Mr Lipwig! You can rely on me, sir! Neither rain nor snow nor glom of—'

‘Yes, yes, thank you, Acting Postmaster, thank you, that's enough, thank you,' said Moist, trying to pull away. ‘Please get up, Mr Groat. Mr Groat, please!'

‘Can I wear the winged hat while you're gone, sir?' Groat pleaded.

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