Going Postal Read Free Page A

you wouldnevertheless have turned out to be extremely good at it,” said Lord Vetinari sharply. “It just goes to show: you never know until you try.”
    “But when you sentenced me—”
    Vetinari raised a pale hand. “Ah?” he said. Moist’s brain, at last aware that it needed to do some work here, stepped in and replied:
    “Er…when you…sentenced…Alfred Spangler—”
    “Well done. Do carry on.”
    “—you said he was a natural-born criminal, a fraudster by vocation, a habitual liar, a perverted genius, and totally untrustworthy!”
    “Are you accepting my offer, Mr. Lipwig?” said Vetinari sharply.
    Moist looked at him. “Excuse me,” he said, standing up, “I’d just like to check something.”
    There were two men dressed in black standing behind his chair. It wasn’t a particularly neat black, more the black worn by people who just don’t want little marks to show. They looked like clerks, until you met their eyes.
    They stood aside as Moist walked toward the door, which, as promised, was indeed there. He opened it very carefully. There was nothing beyond, and that included a floor. In the manner of one who is going to try all possibilities, he took the remnant of the spoon out of his pocket and let it drop. It was quite a long time before he heard the jingle.
    Then he went back and sat in the chair.
    “The prospect of freedom?” he said.
    “Exactly,” said Lord Vetinari. “There is always a choice.”
    “You mean…I could choose certain death?”
    “A choice, nevertheless,” said Vetinari. “Or, perhaps, an alternative. You see, I believe in freedom, Mr. Lipwig. Not many people do, although they will, of course, protest otherwise. And no practical definition of freedom would be completely without the freedom to take the consequences.Indeed, it is the freedom upon which all the others are based. Now…will you take the job? No one will recognize you, I am sure. No one ever recognizes you, it would appear.”
    Moist shrugged. “Oh, all right. Of course, I accept as natural-born criminal, habitual liar, fraudster, and totally untrustworthy perverted genius.”
    “Capital! Welcome to government service!” said Lord Vetinari, extending his hand. “I pride myself on being able to pick the right man. The wage is twenty dollars a week and, I believe, the postmaster general has the use of a small apartment in the main building. I think there’s a hat, too. I shall require regular reports. Good day.”
    He looked down at his paperwork. He looked up.
    “You appear to be still here, Postmaster General?”
    “And that’s it ?” said Moist, aghast. “One minute I’m being hanged, next minute you’re employing me?”
    “Let me see…yes, I think so. Oh, no. Of course. Drumknott, do give Mr. Lipwig his keys.”
    The clerk stepped forward, handed Moist a huge, rusted key-ring full of keys, and proffered a clipboard.
    “Sign here, please, Postmaster General,” he said.
    Hold on a minute , Moist thought, this is only one city. It’s got gates. It’s completely surrounded by different directions to run. Does it matter what I sign?
    “Certainly,” he said, and scribbled his name.
    “Your correct name, if you please,” said Lord Vetinari, not looking up from his desk. “What name did he sign, Drumknott?”
    The clerk craned his head. “Er…Ethel Snake, my lord, as far as I can make out.”
    “ Do try to concentrate, Mr. Lipwig,” said Vetinari wearily, still apparently reading the paperwork.
    Moist signed again. After all, what would it matter in the long run? And it would certainly be a long run, if he couldn’t find a horse.
    “And that only leaves the matter of your parole officer,” said Lord Vetinari, still engrossed in the paper before him.
    “Parole officer?”
    “Yes. I’m not completely stupid, Mr. Lipwig. He will meet you outside the Post Office building in ten minutes. Good day.”
    When Moist had left, Drumknott coughed politely and said, “Do you think he’ll