'Hand over. Make a gift of. Seriously.'
'How? Why?'
'All in good time!'
'You are smirking at me, Moist!'
No, I've frozen because I've just heard what my mouth said, Moist thought. I don't have a clue, I've just got some random thoughts. It's...
'It's about desert islands,' he said. 'And why this city isn't one.'
'And that's it?'
Moist rubbed his forehead. 'Miss Cripslock, Miss Cripslock... this morning I got up with nothing in mind but to seriously make headway with the Post Office paperwork and maybe lick the problem of that Special 25p Cabbage Green Special stamp. You know, the one that'll grow into a cabbage if you plant it? How can you expect me to come up with a new fiscal initiative by teatime?'
'All right, but - '
'It'll take me at least until breakfast.'
He saw her write that down. Then she tucked the notebook in her handbag.
'This is going to be fun, isn't it?' she said, and Moist thought: never trust her when she's put her notebook away, either. She's got a good memory.
'Seriously, I think this is an opportunity for me to do something big and important for my adopted city,' said Moist, in his sincere voice.
'That's your sincere voice,' she said.
'Well, I'm being sincere,' said Moist.
'But since you raise the subject, Moist, what were you doing with your life before the citizens of Ankh-Morpork greeted you with open palms?'
'Surviving,' said Moist. 'In Uberwald the old empire was breaking up. It was not unusual for a government to change twice over lunch. I worked at anything I could to make a living. By the way, I think you meant "arms" back there,' he added.
'And when you got here you impressed the gods so much that they led you to a treasure trove so that you could rebuild our Post Office.'
'I'm very humble about that,' said Moist, trying to look it.
'Ye-ess. And the god-given gold was all in used coinage from the Plains cities...'
'You know what, I've often lain awake wondering about that myself,' said Moist, 'and I reached the conclusion that the gods, in their wisdom, decided that the gift should be instantly negotiable.' I can go on like this for as long as you like, he thought, and you're trying to play poker with no cards. You can suspect all you like, but I gave that money back! Okay, I stole it in the first place, but giving it back counts for something, doesn't it? The slate is clean, isn't it? Well, acceptably grubby, yes?
The door opened slowly, and a young and nervous woman crept in, holding a plate of cold chicken. Mr Fusspot brightened up as she placed it in front of him.
'Sorry, can we get you a coffee or something?' said Moist, as the girl headed back towards the door.
Sacharissa stood up. 'Thank you, but no. I'm on a deadline, Mr Lipwig. I'm sure we'll be talking again very soon.'
'I'm certain of it, Miss Cripslock,' said Moist.
She took a step towards him and lowered her voice. 'Do you know who that girl was?'
'No, I hardly know anyone yet.'
'So you don't know if you can trust her?'
'Trust her?'
Sacharissa sighed. 'This is not like you, Moist. She's just given a plate of food to the most valuable dog in the world. A dog that some people might like to see dead.'