Chapter 25 - A Game Afoot

"Oh this does promise to be entertaining." The Lady smiled gently, her glowing green eyes somehow betraying how very amused she was.

Fate on the other hand, affected boredom. "I find it tiresome." He waved a flaccid hand, taking in The Shyster, newly placed on the board. "How…" a pointed look at The Lady, "fortunate, that the Grey Lady was able to find the one advocate, in a city simply filthy with the unwilling, the only one who would not only challenge Old Moldy, but would actually relish the battle."

He bent slightly, seeming to examine the portly and somewhat frumpy figure in detail where it sat next to the Grey Lady. Tapping a finger against his mouth, he sighed and straightened. "But I am afraid that fate is working against him."

The Lady raised her eyebrows. "Oh? So you feel the tide is turning in your favor?"

"You believe it is not? Did I not insist that The Governess be removed from the Game?"

"Hmmm… and you perceive that you found sufficient agreement among our brethren, though I disagreed. And still do."

"My arguments were sound. Her existence as a part-time anthropomorphic personification made her against the rules."[1]

Anoia spoke up from the side. "Did anyone happen to see whether… she took… The Poker with her? Or is it stuck in a corner somewhere?"[2]

There was a collective shudder among the gods surrounding the Game Table.

The Lady cleared her throat, and dragged the conversation back on topic. "Very well. Since you have, as you say, maneuvered The Governess from The Game, will you likewise attempt the removal of The Tyrant for similar reasons?"

Fate looked carefully at the lean figure standing in the corner of the board. There were a few mutters from around the table.[3]

"No..." Fate began doubtfully, "He may be required as a counter to those interfering Auditors."

A voice in the back of the throng piped up "Hey, wonder what would happen if you gave The Poker to The Tyrant?"

There was another collective shudder, and a couple of the lesser gods began praying to themselves.

Fate glared at the unseen speaker. "No. Next thing you know he'd be knocking on the gate to join us at the table."[4]

The Lady shook her head, and tried to change the subject. "And the Grey Lady?"

"I advocated as much, I admit, earlier in The Game. But now, she becomes less formidable by the day." Fate's mouth turned into a sneer. "And there are options should she continue to be problematic."

"As fun as it all sounds, I still don't see why we need a representative at a hearing about gold." Archchancellor Ridcully waved his hand. "Nothing against gold, mind you. But generally the university is less concerned with such mundane things as discly wealth."

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. "Which is, I am sure, why you eschew such discly things as taxes as well."

Ridcully laughed, "That almost sounded an accusation, Havelock."

The other eyebrow went up to join the first. "Perish the thought, Mustrum."

Watching the two of them, masters of their respective domains, banter back and forth was like watching a tsunami rolling across the deep sea. There didn't appear to be much going on at the surface, but if it hit a serious obstacle, absolute mayhem would result.

Finally Ridcully laughed and slapped Vetinari's desk. "Right then. Things were getting boring for Mister Stibbons anyway." He shook his head. "I'll never understand how he manages not to die of it with all that paperwork 'n such that he seems to love so much. I'm sure he can be persuaded to volunteer for something unique."[5]

Vetinari's fingers did a quick pattern on the desk. "Don't you think that a wizard with a bit more… tenure… would be advisable for such an august panel? After all, the other two will likely be ranking peers. We must consider appearances as well."

"Hmm… d'ya think so?" Ridcully appeared lost in thought, then smiled. "You know, you're right. Stibbons would be the absolute worst choice for this. Yes, I'll just have to consider someone else. Someone with tenure it is!"

"Excellent. I knew you would understand."

Oh I do, Havelock. And I have just the wizard for the job.

"As I was saying, all you have to do is sit and listen. I'm sure whatever congenital idiots are chosen for the other two seats will ask all the questions needed. No don't shake your head yet, let me finish. And Havelock specifically asked for a Wizard with tenure and presence. You're perfect for the task. Stop looking at me like that."

There was a pause.

"I am the Archchancellor, y'know. I could order you to do it."

There was a longer silence. One could call it pregnant. With triplets. "Stop looking at me like that. I could you know."

Another long silence. Quintuplets at least.

"Fine, I'll double your banana allowance."

"Ook."

"And you can throw the peels at Slant."

"Ook!"

"That's the spirit!"[6]

[1] Susan Sto Helit, being the Daughter of Death's adopted daughter, has been asked to fill in from time to time. She updated the traditional outfit a bit, but hasn't publicized it much out of fear the male suicide rate might increase dramatically. Girls with scythes are hot.

[2] Anoia was the Goddess of Things That Get Stuck in Drawers, but she was thinking of branching out.

[3] The Tyrant was one of the odder pieces. It always seemed to end up in the corner of the board, no matter where they tried to put it. And it never seemed to do anything, but they felt sure it was somehow involved in everything, so they mostly left it alone.

[4] Which is of course preposterous. Like he would knock on the gate. More likely they'd wake up the next morning to find him in charge and hiring staff.

[5] In fact, Stibbons was currently holding down seven full time positions at the University, and complained constantly that he was the only one doing any work. Ridcully reasoned that since he kept doing it all anyway, it must mean he actually was enjoying himself. Managers the universe over have made a similar mistake, which usually ends up with someone's office equipment being surgically removed from their supervisor's orifice(s).

[6] Demand not that wizards meddle in affairs of state, for they are subtle and prone to take revenge in a most dramatic manner. (Ook! Ook!)