He had been
trained in the ways of the ninja. He spent most of his life,
dispensing of the rich and powerful for the rich and powerful. He'd
come over to this strange land on a boat five years ago. He had taken
commissions in Quirm, Sto lat, Genua but until now never in
Ankh-Morpork. Though he thought their assassins arrogant fools he
knew about the power they wielded.
That was going to change soon,
he had been given a commission to kill the city's ruler. It had been
laughingly easy to get through the security of the palace with his
stealth and his skills. He watched and waited until well after
midnight.
He wondered why everyone was frightened of this Lord
Vetinari, true the man had been trained as assassin but hadn't been
active as one in decades, he had bad leg, he was over forty.
The
ninja entered silently through a window, the Patrican's back was
turned he seated doing some paper work. The ninja was poised ready to
strike. Then the patrician spun around. The ninja caught a glimpse of
something metal in the man's hand, he tried to dodge, but the strike
was sudden, so fast he hardly had time to blink. Yet, there pain,
there the knife blade imbedded deep in his chest and the blood was
pouring out, so much of it. As he sunk to his knees dying, he saw the
tall, pale man standing over him, watching him with a look of mild
interest.
When he was sure the ninja was dead. Lord Vetinari,
picked up his speaking tube.
"Drumknott, there is a corpse I need disposed of. Also tell the housekeeper to change the carpet. And I'd like to have a talk with the head of palace guard. This is the sixth ninja I've personally had to deal with this year alone."