Men at Arms

I have?”
    There was a pause while they picked up Corporal Nobbs and patted him on the back until he settled down.
    “Very well,” said Sergeant Colon, “what you must do now is take your truncheon like so , and on the command one, proceed smartly to Harthur and on the command two, tap him smartly upon the bonce. Hwun…two…”
    The truncheon bounced off Arthur’s helmet.
    “Very good, only one thing wrong. Anyone tell me what it was?”
    They shook their heads.
    “From behind ,” said Sergeant Colon. “You hit ’em from behind . No sense in risking trouble, is there? Now you have a go, Lance-Constable Cuddy.”
    “But sarge—”
    “Do it.”
    They watched.
    “Perhaps we could fetch him a chair?” said Angua, after an embarrassing fifteen seconds.
    Detritus sniggered.
    “Him too little to be a guard,” he said.
    Lance-Constable Cuddy stopped jumping up and down.
    “Sorry, sergeant,” he said, “this isn’t how dwarfs do it, see?”
    “It’s how guards do it,” said Sergeant Colon. “All right, Lance-Constable Detritus— don’t salute —you give it a try.”
    Detritus held the truncheon between what must technically be called thumb and forefinger, and smashed it over Arthur’s helmet. He stared reflectively at the truncheon’s stump. Then he bunched up his, for want of a better word, fist, and hammered Arthur over what was briefly its head until the stake was driven three feet into the ground.
    “Now the dwarf, he can have a go,” he said.
    There was another embarrassed five seconds. Sergeant Colon cleared his throat.
    “Well, yes, I think we can consider him thoroughly apprehended,” he said. “Make a note, Corporal Nobbs. Lance-Constable Detritus— don’t salute! —deducted one dollar for loss of truncheon. And you’re supposed to be able to ask ’em questions afterwards.”
    He looked at the remains of Arthur.
    “I think around about now is a good time to demonstrate the fine points of harchery,” he said.

    Lady Sybil Ramkin looked at the sad strip of leather that was all that remained of the late Chubby.
    “Who’d do something like this to a poor little dragon?” she said.
    “We’re trying to find out,” said Vimes. “We…we think maybe he was tied up next to a wall and exploded.”
    Carrot leaned over the wall of a pen.
    “Coochee-coochee-coo?” he said. A friendly flame took his eyebrows off.
    “I mean, he was as tame as anything,” said Lady Ramkin. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly, poor little thing.”
    “How could someone make a dragon blow up?” said Vimes. “Could you do it by giving it a kick?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Sybil. “You’d lose your leg, mind you.”
    “Then it wasn’t that. Any other way? So you wouldn’t get hurt?”
    “Not really. It’d be easier to make it blow itself up. Really, Sam, I don’t like talking about—”
    “I have to know.”
    “Well…at this time of year the males fight. Make themselves look big, you know? That’s why I always keep them apart.”
    Vimes shook his head. “There was only one dragon,” he said.
    Behind them, Carrot leaned over the next pen, where a pear-shaped male dragon opened one eye and glared at him.
    “Whosagoodboyden?” murmured Carrot. “I’m sure I’ve got a bit of coal somewhere—”
    The dragon opened the other eye, blinked, and then was fully awake and rearing up. Its ears flattened. Its nostrils flared. Its wings unfurled. It breathed in. From its stomach came the gurgle of rushing acids as sluices and valves were opened. Its feet left the floor. Its chest expanded—
    Vimes hit Carrot at waist height, bearing him to the ground.
    In its pen the dragon blinked. The enemy had mysteriously gone. Scared off!
    It subsided, blowing off a huge flame.
    Vimes unclasped his hands from his head and rolled over.
    “What’d do you do that for, captain?” said Carrot. “I wasn’t—”
    “It was attacking a dragon!” shouted Vimes. “One that wouldn’t back down!”

He pulled himself to his knees and tapped Carrot’s breastplate.
    “You polish that up real bright!” he said. “You can see yourself in it. So can anything else!”
    “Oh, yes, of course there’s that ,” said Lady Sybil. “Everyone knows you should keep dragons away from mirrors—”
    “Mirrors,” said Carrot. “Hey, there were bits of—”
    “Yes. He showed Chubby a mirror,” said Vimes.
    “The poor little thing must have been trying to make himself bigger than himself,” said Carrot.
    “We’re