A desk was covered in paperwork. Beside it, on a small table, was an octagonal board covered in little playing pieces. Vimes sighed. He hated games. They made the world look too simple.
"Oh, do you play at all, Commander?"" said Helmclever with the hungry look of the true enthusiast. Vimes knew the type, too. Show polite interest, and you'll bet there all night.
"Lord Vetinari does. It's never interested me," said Vimes.* "Helmclever's not a common dwarf name. You're not related to the Helmclevers in Tallow Lane, are you?"
* Vimes had never got on with any game much more complex than darts. Chess in particular had always annoyed him. It was the dumb way the pawns went off and slaughtered their fellow pawns while the kings lounged about doing nothing that always got to him; if only the pawns united, maybe talked the rooks around, the whole board could've been a republic in a dozen moves.
Terry Pratchett, Thud!
