Guards! Guards!

the great dragons are extinct,” said the Patrician brusquely. “And, besides, their natural habitat was definitely rural. So it seems to me that this one must be mag—”
    “With respect, Lord Vetinari,” said the Archchancellor, “it has often been claimed that dragons are extinct, but the current evidence, if I may make so bold, tends to cast a certain doubt on the theory. As to habitat, what we are seeing here is simply a change of behavior pattern, occasioned by the spread of urban areas into the countryside which has led many hitherto rural creatures to adopt, nay in many cases to positively embrace, a more municipal mode of existence, and many of them thrive on the new opportunities thereby opened to them. For example, foxes are always knocking over my dustbins.”
    He beamed. He’d managed to get all the way through it without actually needing to engage his brain.
    “Are you saying,” said the assassin slowly, “that what we’ve got here is the first civic dragon?”
    “That’s evolution for you,” said the wizard, happily. “It should do well, too,” he added. “Plenty of nesting sites, and a more than adequate food supply.”
    Silence greeted this statement, until the merchant said, “What exactly is it that they do eat?”
    The thief shrugged. “I seem to recall stories about virgins chained to huge rocks,” he volunteered.
    “It’ll starve around here, then,” said the assassin. “We’re on loam.”
    “They used to go around ravening,” said the thief. “Dunno if that’s any help…”
    “Anyway,” said the leader of the merchants, “it seems to be your problem again, my lord.”
    Five minutes later the Patrician was striding the length of the Oblong Office, fuming.
    “They were laughing at me,” said the Patrician. “I could tell!”
    “Did you suggest a working party?” said Wonse.
    “Of course I did! It didn’t do the trick this time. You know, I really am inclined to increase the reward money.”
    “I don’t think that would work, my lord. Any proficient monster slayer knows the rate for the job.”
    “Ha! Half the kingdom,” muttered the Patrician.
    “And your daughter’s hand in marriage,” said Wonse.
    “I suppose an aunt isn’t acceptable?” the Patrician said hopefully.
    “Tradition demands a daughter, my lord.”
    The Patrician nodded gloomily.
    “Perhaps we can buy it off,” he said aloud. “Are dragons intelligent?”
    “I believe the word traditionally is ‘cunning,’ my lord,” said Wonse. “I understand they have a liking for gold.”
    “Really? What do they spend it on?”
    “They sleep on it, my lord.”
    “What, do you mean in a mattress?”
    “No, my lord. On it .”
    The Patrician turned this fact over in his mind. “Don’t they find it rather knobbly?” he said.
    “So I would imagine, sir. I don’t suppose anyone has ever asked.”
    “Hmm. Can they talk?”
    “They’re apparently good at it, my lord.”
    “Ah. Interesting.”
    The Patrician was thinking: if it can talk, it can negotiate. If it can negotiate, then I have it by the short—by the small scales, or whatever it is they have.
    “And they are said to be silver tongued,” said Wonse. The Patrician leaned back in his chair.
    “Only silver?” he said.
    There was the sound of muted voices in the passageway outside and Vimes was ushered in.
    “Ah, Captain,” said the Patrician, “what progress?”
    “I’m sorry, my lord?” said Vimes, as the rain dripped off his cape.
    “Towards apprehending this dragon,” said the Patrician firmly.
    “The wading bird?” said Vimes.
    “You know very well what I mean,” said Vetinari sharply.
    “Investigations are in hand,” said Vimes automatically.
    The Patrician snorted. “All you have to do is find its lair,” he said. “Once you have the lair, you have the dragon. That’s obvious. Half the city seems to be looking for it.”
    “If there is a lair,” said Vimes.
    Wonse looked up sharply.
    “Why do you say that?”
    “We are considering a number of possibilities,” said Vimes woodenly.
    “If it has no lair, where does it spend its days?” said the Patrician.
    “Inquiries are being pursued,” said Vimes.
    “Then pursue them with alacrity. And find the lair,” said the Patrician sourly.
    “Yes, sir. Permission to leave, sir?”
    “Very well. But I shall expect progress by tonight, do you understand?”
    Now why did I wonder if it has a lair? Vimes thought, as he stepped out into the daylight