Moist didn't reply.

'Let us talk about angels,' said Lord Vetinari.

'Oh yes, I know that one,' said Moist bitterly. 'I've heard that one. That's the one you got me with after I was hanged—'

Vetinari raised an eyebrow again. 'Only mostly hanged, I think you'll find. To within an inch of your life.'

'Whatever! I was hanged! And the worst part of that was finding out I only got two paragraphs in the Tanty Bugle!

'I confess the editor does appear to believe that it is not a proper crime unless someone is found in three alleys at once, but that is the price of a free Press. And it suits us both, does it not, that Albert Spangler's passage from this world was… unmemorable?'

'Yes, but I wasn't expecting an afterlife like this! I have to do what I'm told for the rest of my life?'

'Correction, your new life. That is a crude summary, yes,' said Vetinari. 'Let me rephrase things, however. Ahead of you, Mr Lipwig, is a life of respectable quiet contentment, of civic dignity and, of course, in the fullness of time a pension. Not to mention the proud gold-ish chain.'

Moist winced at this. 'And if I don't do what you say?'

'Hmm? Oh, you misunderstand me, Mr Lipwig. That is what will happen to you if you decline my offer. If you accept it, you will survive on your wits against powerful and dangerous enemies, with every day presenting fresh challenges. Someone may even try to kill you.'

'What? Why?'

'You annoy people. A hat goes with the job, incidentally.'

'And this job makes real money?'

'Nothing but money, Mr Lipwig. It is in fact that of Master of the Royal Mint.'

'What? Banging out pennies all day?'

'In short, yes. But it is traditionally attached to a senior post at the Royal Bank of Ankh-Morpork, which will occupy most of your attention. You can make money, as it were, in your spare time.'