Guards! Guards!

foom !”
    “Yeah, they do that,” said Brother Doorkeeper. “My uncle kicked a swamp dragon once. He found it eating his pumpkins. Damn thing nearly took his leg off.”
    The Supreme Grand Master sighed. A few more hours, yes, and then no more of this. The only thing he hadn’t decided was whether to let them alone—who’d believe them, after all?—or send the Guard to arrest them for being terminally stupid.
    “No,” he said patiently, “I mean the dragon will vanish. We’ll have sent it back. End of dragon.”
    “Won’t people be a bit suspicious?” said Brother Plasterer. “Won’t they expect lumps of dragon all over the place?”
    “No,” said the Supreme Grand Master triumphantly, “because one touch from the Sword of Truth and Justice will totally destroy the Spawn of Evil!”
    The Brethren stared at him.
    “That’s what they’ll believe, anyway,” he added. “We can provide a bit of mystic smoke at the time.”
    “Dead easy, mystic smoke,” said Brother Fingers.
    “No bits, then?” said Brother Plasterer, a shade disappointed.
    Brother Watchtower coughed. “Dunno if people will accept that,” he said. “Sounds a bit too neat, like.”
    “Listen,” snapped the Supreme Grand Master, “they’ll accept anything! They’ll see it happen ! People will be so keen to see the boy win, they won’t think twice about it! Depend upon it! Now…let us commence…”
    He concentrated.
    Yes, it was easier. Easier every time. He could feel the scales, feel the rage of the dragon as he reached into the place where the dragons went and took control.
    This was power, and it was his.

    Sergeant Colon winced. “Ow.”
    “Don’t be a big softly,” said Lady Ramkin cheerfully, tightening the bandage with a well-practiced skill handed down through many generations of Ramkin womenfolk. “He hardly touched you.”
    “And he’s very sorry ,” said Carrot sharply. “Show the sergeant how sorry you are. Go on.”
    “Oook,” said the Librarian, sheepishly.
    “Don’t let him kiss me!” squeaked Colon.
    “Do you think picking someone up by their ankles and bouncing their head on the floor comes under the heading of Striking a Superior Officer?” said Carrot.
    “I’m not pressing charges, me,” said the sergeant hurriedly.
    “Can we get on?” said Vimes impatiently. “We’re going to see if Errol can sniff out the dragon’s lair. Lady Ramkin thinks it’s got to be worth a try.”
    “You mean set a deep hole with spring-loaded sides, tripwires, whirling knife blades driven by water power, broken glass and scorpions, to catch a thief, Captain?” said the sergeant doubtfully. “Ow!”
    “Yes, we don’t want to lose the scent,” said Lady Ramkin. “Stop being a big baby, Sergeant.”
    “Brilliant idea about using Errol, ma’am, if I may make so bold,” said Nobby, while the sergeant blushed under his bandage.
    Vimes was not certain how long he would be able to put up with Nobby the social mountaineer.
    Carrot said nothing. He was gradually coming to terms with the fact that he probably wasn’t a dwarf, but dwarf blood flowed in his veins in accordance with the famous principle of morphic resonance, and his borrowed genes were telling him that nothing was going to be that simple. Finding a hoard even when the dragon wasn’t at home was pretty risky. Anyway, he was certain he’d know if there was one around. The presence of large amounts of gold always made a dwarf’s palms itch, and his weren’t itching.
    “We’ll start by that wall in the Shades,” said the captain.
    Sergeant Colon glanced sideways at Lady Ramkin, and found it impossible to show cowardice in the face of the supportive. He contented himself with, “Is that wise, Captain?”
    “Of course it isn’t. If we were wise, we wouldn’t be in the Watch.”
    “I say! All this is tremendously exciting,” said Lady Ramkin.
    “Oh, I don’t think you should come, m’lady—” Vimes began.
    “— Sybil , please!—”
    “—it’s a very disreputable area, you see.”
    “But I’m sure I shall be perfectly safe with your men,” she said. “I’m sure vagabonds just melt away when they see you.”
    That’s dragons, thought Vimes. They melt away when they see dragons, and just leave their shadows on the wall. Whenever he felt that he was slowing down, or that he was losing interest, he remembered those shadows, and it was like having dull fire poured down his backbone. Things like that shouldn’t be