Tick, tick, tick. Click.
Vimes scowled at the board. That was another of his trolls taken out with a quiet, near instantaneous move.
“Your move, Vimes.”
Lord Vetinari stared at him over steepled fingers and Vimes found himself wondering again how he got roped into this. All the while the clock ticked away counting down their time.
It was unspoken fact that no one dared give voice to, yet finely distilled rumours already flowed from the palace and spread like alcohol in a dwarf bar throughout the city. The Patrician’s health was failing.
No doubt there were some few who saw opportunity and schemes were whispered from ear to ear, but the Patrician was one step ahead with a man who spent his life so many steps ahead that were he to fall there would be no one to catch him before he was up and running again.
“Lipwig,” Vimes said flatly while moving a troll toward a group of dwarfs. The ticking of the clock beside them started to grate on his nerves. His mind wa