The calender of the Theocracy of Muntab counts down, not up. No-one knows why, but it might not be a good idea to hang around and find out.
The duke had a mind that ticked like a clock and, like a clock, it regularly went cuckoo.
"There must be a hundred silver dollars in here," moaned Boggis, waving a purse. "I mean, that's not my league. That's not my class. I can't handle that sort of money. You've got to be in the Guild of Lawyers or something to steal that much."
"I'd like to know if I could compare you to a summer's day. Because -- well, June 12th was quite nice, and..."
"'Tis not right, a woman going into such places by herself." Granny nodded. She thoroughly approved of such sentiments so long as there was, of course, no suggestion that they applied to her.
Above the hearth was a huge pokerwork sign saying "Mother". No tyrant in the whole history of the world had ever achieved a domination so complete.
"A man could go far, knowing his rights like you do," said Granny. "But right now he should go home."
"I daresay," said Granny, pushing the Fool aside and stepping over a writhing taproot. "If anyone locked me in a dungeon, there'd be screams."
"He didn't take any notice!" whispered Tomjon. "A born critic," said the dwarf.
"Actors," said Granny, witheringly. "As if the world weren't full of enough history without inventing more."
In fact, no gods anywhere play chess. They prefer simple, vicious games, where you Do Not Achieve Transcendence but Go Straight to Oblivion; a key to the understanding of all religion is that a god's idea of amusement is Snakes and Ladders with greased rungs.
"Yes, bugger all that." said Nanny. "Let's curse somebody."
On nights such as these the gods, as has already been pointed out, play games other than chess with the fates of mortals and the thrones of kings. It is important to remember that they always cheat, right up to the end...
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