Guards! Guards!

Nobby not to try to sell the furnishings. Going Up in the World is a metaphor, which I am learning about, it is like Lying but more decorative. There are proper carpets to spit on. Twice today groups of people have tried to search the cellars here for the dragon, it is amazing. And digging up people’s privies and poking into attics, it is like a Fever. One thing is, people haven’t got time for much else, and Sgt. Colon says, when you go out on your Rounds and shout Twelve of the Clock and All’s Well while a dragon is melting the street you feel a bit of a Burke.
I have moved out of Mrs. Palm’s because, there are dozens of bedrooms here. It was sad and they made me a cake but I think it is for the best, although Mrs. Palm never charged me rent which was very nice of her considering she is a widow with so many fine daughters to bring up plus dowries ekcetra.
Also I have made friends with this ape who keeps coming around to see if we have found his book. Nobby says it is a flea-ridden moron because it won 18d off him playing Cripple Mr. Onion, which is a game of chance with cards which I do not play, I have told Nobby about the Gambling (Regulation) Acts, and he said Piss off, which I think is in violation of the Decency Ordinances of 1389 but I have decided to use my Discretion.
Capt Vimes is ill and is being looked after by a Lady. Nobby says it is well known she is Mental, but Sgt. Colon says its just because of living in a big house with a lot of dragons but she is worth a Fortune and well done to the Capt for getting his feet under the table. I do not see what the furniture has to do with it. This morning I went for a walk with Reet and showed her many interesting examples of the iron-work to be found in the city. She said it was very interesting. She said I was quite different to anyone she’s ever met. Your loving son, Carrot.X
PS I hope Minty is keeping well.
    He folded the paper carefully and shoved it into the envelope.
    “Sun’s going down,” said Sergeant Colon.
    Carrot looked up from his sealing wax.
    “That means it will be night soon,” Colon went on, accurately.
    “Yes, Sergeant.”
    Colon ran a finger around his collar. His skin was impressively pink, the result of a morning’s scrubbing, but people were still staying at a respectful distance.
    Some people are born to command. Some people achieve command. And others have command thrust upon them, and the sergeant was now included in this category and wasn’t very happy about it.
    Any minute now, he knew, he was going to have to say that it was time they went out on patrol. He didn’t want to go out on patrol. He wanted to find a nice sub-basement somewhere. But nobblyess obligay —if he was in charge, he had to do it.
    It wasn’t the loneliness of command that was bothering him. It was the being-fried-alive of command that was giving him problems.
    He was also pretty sure that unless they came up with something about this dragon very soon then the Patrician was going to be unhappy. And when the Patrician was unhappy, he became very democratic. He found intricate and painful ways of spreading that unhappiness as far as possible. Responsibility, the sergeant thought, was a terrible thing. So was being horribly tortured. As far as he could see, the two facts were rapidly heading toward one another.
    And thus he was terribly relieved when a small coach pulled up outside the Yard. It was very old, and battered. There was a faded coat of arms on the door. Painted on the back, and rather newer, was the little message: Whinny If You Love Dragons .
    Out of it, wincing as he got down, stepped Captain Vimes. Following him was the woman known to the sergeant as Mad Sybil Ramkin. And finally, hopping down obediently on the end of its lead, was a small—
    The sergeant was too nervous to take account of actual size.
    “Well, I’ll be mogadored! They’ve only gone and caught it!”
    Nobby looked up from the table in the corner where he was continually failing to learn that it is almost impossible to play a game of skill and bluff against an opponent who smiles all the time. The Librarian took advantage of the diversion to help himself to a couple of cards off the bottom of the pack.
    “Don’t be daft. That’s just a swamp dragon,” said Nobby. “She’s all right, is Lady Sybil. A real lady.”
    The other two guards turned and stared at him. This was Nobby talking.
    “You two can bloody well stop that,” he said. “Why shouldn’t I know