Guards! Guards!

him coming down the street, that here was a member of the Watch trying to look inconspicuous.
    It occurred to Vimes that he knew absolutely nothing about Nobbs outside working hours. He couldn’t even remember where the man lived. All these years he’d known the man and he’d never realized that, in his secret private life, Corporal Nobbs was a bit of a peacock. A very short peacock, it was true, a peacock that had been hit repeatedly with something heavy, perhaps, but a peacock nonetheless. It just went to show, you never could tell.
    He brought his attention back to the business in hand.
    “I want you two,” he said to Nobbs and Colon, “to mingle unobtrusively, or obtrusively in your case, Corporal Nobbs, with people tonight and, er, see if you can detect anything unusual.”
    “Unusual like what?” said the sergeant.
    Vimes hesitated. He wasn’t exactly sure himself. “Anything,” he said, “pertinent.”
    “Ah.” The sergeant nodded wisely. “Pertinent. Right.”
    There was an awkward silence.
    “Maybe people have seen weird things,” said Captain Vimes. “Or perhaps there have been unexplained fires. Or footprints. You know,” he finished, desperately, “signs of dragons.”
    “You mean, like, piles of gold what have been slept on,” said the sergeant.
    “And virgins being chained to rocks,” said Nobbs, knowingly.
    “I can see you’re experts,” sighed Vimes. “Just do the best you can.”
    “This mingling,” said Sergeant Colon delicately, “it would involve going into taverns and drinking and similar, would it?”
    “To a certain extent,” said Vimes.
    “Ah,” said the sergeant, happily.
    “In moderation.”
    “Right you are, sir.”
    “And at your own expense.”
    “Oh.”
    “But before you go,” said the captain, “do either of you know anyone who might know anything about dragons? Apart from sleeping on gold and the bit with the young women, I mean.”
    “Wizards would,” volunteered Nobby.
    “Apart from wizards,” said Vimes firmly. You couldn’t trust wizards. Every guard knew you couldn’t trust wizards. They were even worse than civilians.
    Colon thought about it. “There’s always Lady Ramkin,” he said. “Lives in Scoone Avenue. Breeds swamp dragons. You know, the little buggers people keep as pets?”
    “Oh, her,” said Vimes gloomily. “I think I’ve seen her around. The one with the ‘Whinny If You Love Dragons’ sticker on the back of her carriage?”
    “That’s her. She’s mental,” said Sergeant Colon. “What do you want me to do, sir?” said Carrot.
    “Er. You have the most important job,” said Vimes hurriedly. “I want you to stay here and watch the office.”
    Carrot’s face broadened in a slow, unbelieving grin.
    “You mean I’m left in charge , sir?” he said.
    “In a manner of speaking,” said Vimes. “But you’re not allowed to arrest anyone, understand?” he added quickly.
    “Not even if they’re breaking the law, sir?”
    “Not even then. Just make a note of it.”
    “I’ll read my book, then,” said Carrot. “And polish my helmet.”
    “Good boy,” said the captain. It should be safe enough, he thought. No one ever comes in here, not even to report a lost dog. No one ever thinks about the Watch. You’d have to be really out of touch to go to the Watch for help, he thought bitterly.

    Scoone Avenue was a wide, tree-lined, and incredibly select part of Ankh, high enough above the river to be away from its all-pervading smell. People in Scoone Avenue had old money, which was supposed to be much better than new money, although Captain Vimes had never had enough of either to spot the difference. People in Scoone Avenue had their own personal bodyguards. People in Scoone Avenue were said to be so aloof they wouldn’t even talk to the gods. This was a slight slander. They would talk to gods, if they were well-bred gods of decent family.
    Lady Ramkin’s house was not hard to find. It commanded an outcrop that gave it a magnificent view of the city, if that was your idea of a good time. There were stone dragons on the gatepost, and the gardens had an unkempt overgrown look. Statues of Ramkins long gone loomed up out of the greenery. Most of them had swords and were covered in ivy up to the neck.
    Vimes sensed that this was not because the garden’s owner was too poor to do anything about it, but rather that the garden’s owner thought there were much more important things than ancestors, which was a