Amazingly, former arch-swindler-turned-Postmaster General Moist von Lipwig has somehow managed to get the woefully inefficient Ankh-Morpork Post Office running like . . . well, not like a government office at all. Now the supreme despot Lord Vetinari is asking Moist if he'd like to make some real money. Vetinari wants Moist to resuscitate the venerable Royal Mint—so that perhaps it will no longer cost considerably more than a penny to make a penny. Moist doesn't want the job. However, a request from Ankh-Morpork's current ruling tyrant isn't a “request” per se, more like a “once-in-a-lifetime-offer-you-can-certainly-refuse-if-you-feel-you've-lived-quite-long-enough.” So Moist will just have to learn to deal with elderly Royal Bank chairman Topsy (née Turvy) Lavish and her two loaded crossbows, a face-lapping Mint manager, and a chief clerk who's probably a vampire. But he'll soon be making lethal enemies as well as money, especially if he can't figure out where all the gold has gone.
Just like the forthright and reassuring grasp of my late husband. No honest man has a handshake as honest as that. How in the world has it taken you so long to find the financial sector?
Cammiecompartió una citahace 4 años
“Perhaps you could assuage my curiosity, madam?” he said. “Since the ink is drying on the lease?” Miss Dearheart looked around the room conspiratorially, as if the heavy old bookcases concealed a multitude of ears. “Can you keep a secret, Mr. Blister?” “Oh, indeed, madam. Indeed!” She looked around cautiously. “Even so, this should be said quietly,” she hissed. He nodded hopefully, leaned forward, and for the first time in many years felt a woman’s breath in his ear: “So can I,” she said. That was nearly three weeks ago…