Стража! Стража!

           Colontriedtoindicatebyhisexpressionthathedidn’t.

           "Doyouthinkthat’sagoodidea,sir?"heventured.

           Vimesgavehimablanklook."Yes,Sergeant,Ido.Itwasoneofmine,"hesaidcoldly."Nowgoandseetoil."

           WhenhewaslefttohimselfVimeswashedandshavedincoldwater,andthenrummagedinhiscampaignchestuntilheunearthedhisceremonialbreastplateandredcloak.Well,thecloakhadbeenredonce,andstillwas,hereandthere,althoughmostofitresembledasmallnetusedverysuccessfullyforcatchingmoths.Therewasalsoahelmet,defiantlywithoutplumes,fromwhichthemolecule-thickgoldleafhadlongagopeeled.

           He’dstartedsavingupforanewcloak,once.Whateverhadhappenedtothemoney?

           Therewasno-oneintheguardroom.ErrollayinthewreckageofthefourthfruitboxNobbyhadscroungedforhim.Theresthadallbeeneaten,orhaddissolved.

           Inthewarmsilencetheeverlastingrumblingofhisstomachsoundedespeciallyloud.Occasionallyhewhimpered.

           "What’supwithyou,boy?"hesaid.

           Thedoorcreakedopen.Carrotcamein,sawVineshunkereddownbytheravagedbox,andsaluted.

           "We’reabitworriedabouthim,Captain,"hevolunteered."Hehasn’teatenhiscoal.Justliestheretwitchingandwhiningallthetime.Youdon’tthinksomething’swrongwithhim,doyou?"

           "Possibly,"saidVimes."Buthavingsomethingwrongwiththemisquitenormalforadragon.Theyalwaysgetoverit.Onewayoranother."

           Errolgavehimamournfullookandclosedhiseyesagain.