At one end of the yard was a big treadmill, operated by a couple of golems. It powered a creaking endless belt which crossed most of the yard. At the other end, several trolls with broad shovels fed the belt from a heap of trash that was itself constantly refilled by the occasional cart.
Lining the belt itself were golems and trolls and even the occasional human. In the flickering torchlight they watched the moving debris carefully. Occasionally a hand would dart out and pitch something into a bin behind the worker.
'Fish heads, bones, rags, paper... I got twenty-seven different bins so far, including one for gold and silver, 'cos you'd be amazed what gets thrown away by mistake. Tinkle, tinkle, little spoon, wedding ring will follow soon... That's what I used to sing to my little girls. Stuff like your paper of news goes in bin six, Low Grade Paper Waste. I sells most of that to Bob Holtely up in Five and Seven Yard.'
'What does he do with it?' said William, noting the 'Low Grade'.
'Pulps it for lavatory paper,' said Harry. 'The wife swears by it.
Pers'n'ly I cut out the middle man.' He sighed, apparently oblivious
of the sudden sag in William's self-esteem. 'Y'know, sometimes I
stand here of an evenin' when the line is rumbling and the sunset is shinin' on the settlin' tanks and, I don't mind admitting it, a tear comes to my eye.'
'To tell you the truth, it comes to mine, too, sir,' said William.
'Now then, lad... when that kid nicked my first tosheroon, I didn't go around complaining, did I? I knew I'd got an eye for it, see? I carried on, and I found plenty more. And on my eighth birthday I paid a couple of trolls to seek out the man who'd pinched my first one and slap seven kinds of snot out of him. Did you know that?'
'No, Mr King.'
Harry King stared at William through the smoke. William felt that he was being turned over and examined, like something found in the trash.
'My youngest daughter, Hermione... she's getting married at the end of next week,' said Harry. 'Big show. Temple of Offler. Choirs and everything. I'm inviting all the top nobs. Effie insisted. They won't come, o' course. Not for Piss Harry.'
The Times would have been there, though,' said William. 'With coloured pictures. Except we go out of business tomorrow.'
'Coloured, eh? You get someone to paint 'em in, do you?'
'No. We've... got a special way,' said William, hoping against hope that Otto was serious. He wasn't just out on a limb here, he was dangerously out of the tree.
That'd be something to see,' said Harry. He took out his cigar, stared reflectively at the end and put it back in his mouth. Through the smoke he watched William carefully.
William felt the distinct unease of a well-educated man who has to confront the fact that the illiterate man watching him could probably out-think him three times over.
'Mr King, we really need that paper,' he said, to break the thoughtful silence.
There's something about you, Mr de Worde,' said the King. 'I buy and sell clerks when I need them, and you don't smell like a clerk to me. You've got the air about you of a man who'd scrabble through a ton o' shit to find a farthin', and I'm wonderin' why that is.'
'Look, Mr King, will you please sell us some paper at the old price?' said William.
'Couldn't do that. I told you. A deal's a deal. The Engravers've paid me,' said Harry shortly.
William opened his mouth but Goodmountain laid a hand on his arm. The King was clearly working his way to the end of a line of thought.
Harry went over to the window again and stared pensively at the yard with its steaming piles. Then...
'Oh, will you look at that,' he said, stepping back from the window in tremendous astonishment. 'See that cart at the other gate down there?'
They saw the cart.
'I must've told the lads a hundred times, don't leave a cart all laden up and ready to go right by an open gate like that. Someone'll nick it, I told 'em.'
William wondered who'd steal anything from the King of the Golden River, a man with all those red-hot compost heaps.
'That's the last quarter of the order for the Engravers' Guild,' said Harry, to the world in general. I'd have to repay 'em if it got half-inched right out of my yard. I'll have to tell the foreman. He's getting forgetful these days.'
'We should be leaving, William,' said Goodmountain, grabbing William's arm again.