Guards! Guards!

should hurry up,” whispered Vimes. “It’s getting rather restive. Is all this necessary?”
    “Well, I believe one can summarize,” said Carrot. “In exceptional circumstances, according to Bregg’s Rules for—”
    “It may come as a surprise, but these are exceptional circumstances, Carrot,” said Vimes. “And they’re going to be really astonishingly exceptional if Colon doesn’t hurry up with that rope.”
    More rubble moved as the dragon strained to get up. There was a thump as a heavy beam was shouldered aside. The crowd began to run for it.
    It was at this point that Errol came back over the rooftops in a series of minor explosions, leaving a trail of smoke rings. Dipping low, he buzzed the crowd and sent the front rank stumbling backward.
    He was also wailing like a foghorn.
    Vimes grabbed Carrot and stumbled down the heap as the king started to scrabble desperately to get free.
    “He’s come back for the kill!” he shouted. “It probably took him all this time just to slow down!”
    Now Errol was hovering over the fallen dragon, and hooting shrilly enough to bust bottles.
    The great dragon stuck its head up in a cascade of plaster dust. It opened its mouth but, instead of the lance of white fire that Vimes tensed himself to expect, it merely made a noise like a kitten. Admittedly a kitten shouting into a tin bath at the bottom of a cave, but still a kitten.
    Broken spars fell aside when the huge creature got unsteadily to its feet. The great wings opened, showering the surrounding streets with dust and bits of thatch. Some of it clanged off the helmet of Sergeant Colon, hurrying back with what looked like a small washing line coiled over his arm.
    “You’re letting it get up!” Vimes shouted, pushing the sergeant to safety. “You’re not supposed to let it get up, Errol! Don’t let it get up!”
    Lady Ramkin frowned. “That’s not right,” she said. “They never usually fight like that. The winner usually kills the loser.”
    “Right on!” shouted Nobby.
    “And then half the time he explodes with the excitement in any case.”
    “Look, it’s me !” Vimes yelled, as Errol hovered unconcernedly over the scene. “I bought you the fluffy ball! The one with the bell in it! You can’t do this to us!”
    “No, wait a minute,” said Lady Ramkin, laying a hand on his arm. “I’m not sure we haven’t got hold of the wrong end of the stick here—”
    The great dragon leapt into the air and brought its wings down with a whump that flattened a few more buildings. The huge head swung around, the bleary eyes caught sight of Vimes.
    There seemed to be some thought going on inside them.
    Errol arced across the sky and hovered protectively in front of the captain, facing the thing down. For a moment it looked as though he might be turned into a small flying charcoal biscuit, and then the dragon lowered its gaze in a slightly embarrassed way and started to rise.
    It climbed in a wide spiral, gathering speed as it did so. Errol went with it, orbiting the huge body like a tug around a liner.
    “It’s—it’s as though he’s fussing over it,” said Vimes.
    “Add up the bastard!” shouted Nobby enthusiastically.
    “Total, Nobby,” said Colon. “You mean ‘total.’”
    Vimes felt Lady Ramkin’s gaze on the back of his neck. He looked at her expression.
    Realization dawned. “Oh,” he said.
    Lady Ramkin nodded.
    “Really?” said Vimes.
    “Yes,” she said. “I really ought to have thought of it before. It was such a hot flame, of course. And they’re always so much more territorial than the males.”
    “Why don’t you fight the bastard!” shouted Nobby, at the dwindling dragons.
    “Bitch, Nobby,” said Vimes quietly. “Not bastard. Bitch.”
    “Why don’t you fi–what?”
    “It’s a member of the female gender,” explained Lady Ramkin.
    “What?”
    “We meant that if you tried your favorite kick, Nobby, it wouldn’t work,” said Vimes.
    “It’s a girl ,” translated Lady Ramkin.
    “But it’s sodding enormous !” said Nobby.
    Vimes coughed urgently. Nobby’s rodent eyes slid sideways to Sybil Ramkin, who blushed like a sunset.
    “A fine figure of a dragon, I mean,” he said quickly.
    “Er. Wide, egg-bearing hips,” said Sergeant Colon anxiously.
    “Statueskew,” Nobby added fervently.
    “Shut up,” said Vimes. He brushed the dust off the remains of his uniform, adjusted the hang of his breastplate, and set his helmet on squarely. He patted it