Стража! Стража!

           I’veevenseenagreenfly.ButIain’tneverseenadragonfly."

           "Ofcourseyouhave,youpillock,"saidNobbyurgently."Look,I’mnotmessingabout!Hehadwingsonhimlike,like,likegreatbigwings!"

           SergeantColonturnedmajestically.Thecorporal’sfacehadgonesowhitethatitshowedupinthedarkness.

           "Honest,Sergeant!"

           SgtColonturnedhiseyestothedampskyandtherain-washedmoon.

           "Allright,"hesaid,"showme."

           Therewasaslitheringnoisebehindhim,andacoupleofrooftilessmashedontothestreet.

           Heturned.Andthere,ontheroof,wasthedragon.

           "There’sadragonontheroof!"hewarbled."Nobby,it’sadragonontheroof!WhatshallIdo,Nobby?There’sadragonontheroof!It’slookingrightatme,Nobby!"

           "Forastart,youcoulddoyourtrousersup,"saidNobby,frombehindthenearestwall.

           Evenshornofherlayersofprotectiveclothing,LadySybilRamkinwasstilltoweringlybig.Vimesknewthatthebarbarianhublanderfolkhadlegendsaboutgreatchain-mailed,armour-bra’d,carthorse-ridingmaidenswhoswoopeddownonbattlefieldsandcarriedoffdeadwarriorsontheircroppertoagloriousroisteringafterlife,whilesinginginapleasingmezzo-soprano.LadyRamkincouldhavebeenoneofthem.Shecouldhaveledthem.Shecouldhavecarriedoffabattalion.Whenshespoke,everywordwaslikeaheartyslaponthebackandclangedwiththearistocraticself-assuranceofthetotallywell-bred.Thevowelsoundsalonewouldhavecutteak.