Description

One second, Sir Sam Vimes is in his previous patrolman type, pursuing a sweet-talking psychopath over the roofs of Ankh-Morpork. The following, he is laying nude in the road, having been delivered back thirty years thanks to several time-adjusting monks who will not leave well enough alone. This Discworld is just a place that Vimes recalls too well, three years before his name, precious spouse, bundle, and approaching first kid. Worse still, the assassin he is seeking hasbeen moved back likewise.