Стража! Стража!

           Vimeswonderedaboutthat.He’dboughtsomeapplesinthereonce,andtheredidn’tappeartobeanythingaboutitthatadragoncouldpossiblytakeoffenceat.

           Still,veryconsiderateofthedragon,hethoughtashemadehiswaytotheWatchHouse.Whenyouthinkofallthetimberyards,hayricks,thatchedroofsandoilstoresitcouldhavehitbychance,it’smanagedtoreallyfrighteneveryonewithoutactuallyharmingthecity.

           Raysofearlymorningsunlightwerepiercingthedriftsofsmokeashepushedopenthedoor.Thiswashome.Notthebarelittleroomoverthecandlemaker’sshopinWixon’sAlley,whereheslept,butthisnastybrownroomthatsmeltofunsweptchimneys,SgtColon’spipe,Nobby’smysteriouspersonalproblemand,latterly,Carrot’sarmourpolish.Itwasalmostlikehome.

           No-oneelsewasthere.Hewasn’tentirelysurprised.Heclumpeduptohisofficeandleanedbackinhischair,whosecushionwouldhavebeenthrownoutofitsbasketindisgustbyanincontinentdog,pulledhishelmetoverhiseyes,andtriedtothink.

           Nogoodrushingabout.Thedragonhadvanishedinallthesmokeandconfusion,assuddenlyasithadcome.Timeforrushingaboutsoonenough.Theimportantthingwasworkingoutwheretorushto...

           He’dbeenright.Wadingbird!Butwheredidyoustartlookingforabloodygreatdragoninacityofamillionpeople?

           Hewasawarethathisrighthand,entirelyunbidden,hadpulledopenthebottomdrawer,andthreeofhisfingers,actingonsealedordersfromhishindbrain,hadliftedoutabottle.