Стража! Стража!

           "Chuckusthematches,Sergeant,"saidNobby.

           Colontossedthebundleofevilyellow-headedlucifersacrosstheleads.Nobbystruckone,whichwasimmediatelyblownout.Shredsoffogdriftedpasthim.

           "Wind’sgettingup,"heobserved.

           "Good.Can’tstandthisfog,"saidColon."WhatwasIsaying?"

           "Youweresayingthedragon’llbemilesaway,"promptedNobby.

           "Oh.Right.Well,itstandstoreason,doesn’tit?Imean,Iwouldn’thangaroundhereifIcouldflyaway.IfIcouldfly,Iwouldn’tbesittingonaroofonsomemankyoldstatue.IfIcouldfly,I’d-"

           "Whatstatue?"saidNobby,cigarettehalfwaytohismouth.

           "Thisone,"saidColon,thumpingthestone."Anddon’ttrytogivemethewillies,Nobby.Youknowthere’shundredsofmouldyoldstatuesuponSmallGods."

           "NoIdon’t,"saidNobby."WhatIdoknowis,theywerealltakendownlastmonthwhentheyre-leadedtheroof.There’sjusttheroofandthedomeandthat’sit.Youhavetotakenoticeoflittlethingslikethat,"headded,"whenyou’redetectoring."

           InthedampsilencethatfollowedSergeantColonlookeddownatthestonehewassittingon.Ithadataper,andascalypattern,andasortofindefinabletail-likequality.Thenhefolloweditslengthupandintotherapidly-thinningfog.

           OnthedomeofSmallGodsthedragonraiseditshead,yawned,andunfoldeditswings.

           Theunfoldingwasn’tasimpleoperation.Itseemedtogoonforsometime,asthecomplexbiologicalmachineryofribsandpleatsslidapart.