Стража! Стража!

           Hewouldbelateron,ofcourse.Byeveninghe’dbefurious.Drunkandfurious.Butnotyet.Notyet.Ithadn’treallysunkin,andheknewhewasjustgoingthroughthemotionsasapreventativeagainstthinking.

           Errolstirredsluggishlyinhisbox,raisedhisheadandwhined.

           "What’sthematter,boy?"saidVimes,reachingdown."Upsetstomach?"

           Thelittledragon’sskinwasmovingasthoughheavyindustrywasbeingcarriedoninside.NothinginDiseasesoftheDragonsaidanythingaboutthis.Fromtheswollenstomachcamesoundslikeadistantandcomplicatedwarinanearthquakezone.

           Thatsurelywasn’tright.SybilRamkinsaidyouhadtopaygreatattentiontoadragon’sdiet,sinceevenaminorstomachupsetwoulddecoratethewallsandceilingwithpatheticbitsofscalyskin.Butinthepastfewdays...well,therehadbeencoldpizzas,andtheashfromNobby’shorribledog-ends,andall-in-allErrolhadeatenmoreorlesswhatheliked.Whichwasjustabouteverything,tojudgebytheroom.Nottomentionthecontentsofthebottomdrawer.

           "Wereallyhaven’tlookedafteryouverywell,havewe?"saidVimes."Treatedyoulikeadog,really."Hewonderedwhateffectsqueakyrubberhipposhadonthedigestion.

           Vimesbecameslowlyawarethatthedistantcheeringhadturnedtoscreams.

           HestaredvaguelyatErrol,andthensmiledanincrediblyevilsmileandstoodup.

           Thereweresoundsofpanicandthemobontherun.

           Heplacedhisbatteredhelmetonhisheadandgaveitajauntytap.