JD-Kloosterman

“I don’t know how things got so unpleasant,” said High Overseer Campbell as they walked into the meeting room. “A whore dies, and now all this.” You wouldn’t understand it, would you. Vimes thought. A stuffed shirt like you, on his high ivory tower, probably doesn’t think of whores much beyond the waist or chest. Doesn’t think that even whores have families and loved ones who notice when they’re gone. That’s why you had one killed, because you thought no one would notice. But I’ve got you now, you bastard, and you’re going to swing, privilege of the clergy or not. No one had ever accused Vimes of being religious. He occasionally dropped into the temple of Io, but High Priest Ridcully had always struck him as disgustingly fat for a religious man. Campbell, however, got under his skin on a whole new level. All of the Overseers, for that matter, got under his skin. He didn’t understand how they’d managed to gain so much influence in Ankh-Morpork in so short a time. “If I may ask, any