Thud!

speed.
    Vimes pushed back his chair. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Shine, but all you are giving me is riddles and—”
    “Sit down , Commander.” The quite voice had a schoolteacher harmonic to it that folded Vimes’s legs under him. “Good,” said Mr. Shine. “Eight trolls, thirty-two dwarfs. Dwarfs always start. A dwarf is small and fast and can run as many squares as possible in any direction. A troll—because we’re stupid and drag our clubs, as everyone knows—can only move one square in any direction. There are other types of moving, but what do you see so far?”
    Vimes tried to concentrate. It was hard. This was a game, it wasn’t real . Besides, the answer was so obvious that it couldn’t be the right one.
    “It looks like the dwarfs must win every time,” he ventured.
    “Ah, natural suspicion, I like that. In fact, among the best players, the bias is slightly in favor of the trolls,” said Mr. Shine. “This is largely because a troll can, in the right circumstances, do a lot of damage. How are your ribs, by the way?”
    “All the better for you asking,” said Vimes sourly. He’d forgotten them for twenty blessed minutes; now they ached again.
    “Good. I’m glad Brick has found Detritus. He has a good brain if he can be persuaded to stop frying it every half an hour. Back to our game…advantages to either side do not matter, in fact, because a complete game consists of two battles. In one, you must play the dwarfs. In the other, you must play the trolls. As you may expect, dwarfs find it easy to play the dwarf side, which needs a strategy and mode of attack that comes easy to a dwarf. Something similar applies to the trolls. But to win , you must play both sides. You must, in fact, be able to think like your ancient enemy. A really skilled player—well, take a look, Commander. Look toward the back of the room, where my friend Phyllite is playing against Nils Mousehammer.”
    Vimes turned.
    “What am I looking for?” he said.
    “Whatever you see.”
    “Well, that troll over there is wearing what looks like a large dwarf helmet…”
    “Yes, one of the dwarf players made it for him. And he speaks quite passable dwarfish.”
    “He’s drinking out of a horn, like the dwarfs do…”
    “He had to have one made in metal! Troll beer would melt ordinary horn. Nils can sing quite a lot of the troll history chant. Look at Gabbro, over there. Good troll boy, but he knows all there is to know about dwarf battle bread. In fact, I believe that’s a boomerang croissant on the table next to him. Purely for ceremonial purposes, of course. Commander?”
    “Hmm?” said Vimes, turning his head. “What?” A slightly built dwarf at one of the tables was watching him with interest, as though he was some kind of fascinating monster.
    Mr. Shine chuckled. “To study the enemy, you have to get under his skin. When you’re under his skin, you start to see the world through his eyes. Gabbro is so good at playing from the dwarf viewpoint that his troll game is suffering, and he wants to go to Copperhead to learn from some of the dwarf thudmeisters there. I hope he does; they’ll teach him how to play like a troll. None of these lads here were out getting fighting drunk last night. And thus we wear down mountains. Water dripping on a stone, dissolving and removing. Changing the shape of the world, one drop at a time. Water dripping on a stone, Commander. Water flowing underground, bubbling up in unexpected places.”
    “I think you’re going to need a bit more of a gush,” said Vimes. “I don’t think a bunch of people playing games is going to break down a mountain anytime soon.”
    “It depends on where the drops fall,” said Mr. Shine. “In time, they may wash away a valley, at least. You should ask yourself: why was I so keen to get into that mine?”
    “Because there had been a murder!”
    “And that was the only reason?” said the shrouded Mr. Shine.
    “Of course!”
    “And everyone knows what gossips dwarfs are,” said Mr. Shine. “Well, I am sure you will do your best, Commander. I hope you find the murderer before the Dark catches up with them.”
    “Mr. Shine, some of my officers have lit candles around that damn symbol!”
    “Good thinking, I’d say.”
    “So you really believe that it’s some kind of a threat? How come you know so much about dwarf signs, anyway?”
    “I have studied them. I accept the fact of their existence. Some of your officers believe. Most dwarfs