Lorenzo Lotto NativityLorenzo Lotto Madonna and Child with SaintsCamille Pissarro Place du Theatre FrancaisCamille Pissarro Landscape at Chaponval
out across rolling vistas without getting cattle and inconvenient poor people wandering across the lawns. Under Bloody Stupid's errant pencil it was dug fifty feet deep and had claimed three gardeners already.
The maze was so small that people got lost looking for it.
But the PatricianI didn't make any noise . . .
'Ah, Havelock—' he began.
'You have something to tell me, doctor?'
'It's been . . . mislaid.'
'Yes. And no doubt you are anxiously seeking it. Very well. Good day.'
The Patrician hadn't moved his head the whole time. He hadn't even bothered to ask what It was. He bloody well knows, thought Cruces. How is it you can never tell him anything he doesn't rather liked the gardens, in a quiet kind of way. He had certain views about the mentality of most of mankind, and the gardens made him feel fully justified.Piles of paper were stacked on the lawn around the chair. Clerks renewed them or took them away periodically. They were different clerks. All sorts and types of information flowed into the Palace, but there was only one place where it all came together, very much like strands of gossamer coming together in the centre of a web.A great many rulers, good and bad and quite often dead, know what happened; a rare few actually manage, by dint of much effort, to know what's happening. Lord Vetinari considered both types to lack ambition.'Yes, Dr Cruces,' he said, without looking up.How the hell does he do it? Cruces wondered. I know
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