'That was my dear father. I am, in fact, rather richer. When one has a great deal of money, I am afraid, it is hard to achieve simplicity. One does one's best.' He sighed.
'You could try giving it away,' said Conina.
He sighed again. 'That isn't easy, you know. No, one just has to try to do a little with a lot.'
'No, no, but look', 'Ah. Named after a religious sect,' said Conina knowingly.
Creosote gave her a long look. 'No,' he said slowly, 'I don't think so. I think we named them after the way they push people's faces through the back of their heads. Dreadful, really.'
He picked up the parchment he had been writing on, and continued, 'I seek said Rincewind, spluttering bits of stick, 'they say, I mean, everything you touch turns into gold, for goodness sake.''That could make going to the lavatory a bit tricky,' said Conina brightly. 'Sorry.''One hears such stories about oneself,' said Creosote, affecting not to have heard. 'So tiresome. As if wealth mattered. True riches lie in the treasure houses of literature.''The Creosote I heard of,' said Conina slowly, 'was head of this band of, well, mad killers. The original Assassins, feared throughout hubward Klatch. No offence meant.''Ah yes, dear father,' said Creosote junior. 'The hashishim. Such a novel idea.[15] But not really very efficient. So we hired Thugs instead.'
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