Guards! Guards! (Discworld 8)

“You mean, like, piles of gold what have been slept on,” said the sergeant.

“And virgins being chained to rocks,” said Nobbs, knowingly.

“I can see you're experts,” sighed Vimes. “Just do the best you can.”

“This mingling,” said Sergeant Colon delicately, “it would involve going into taverns and drinking and similar, would it?”

“To a certain extent,” said Vimes.

“Ah,” said the sergeant, happily.

“In moderation.”

“Right you are, sir.”

“And at your own expense.”

“Oh.”

“But before you go,” said the captain, “do either of you know anyone who might know anything about dragons? Apart from sleeping on gold and the bit with the young women, I mean.”

“Wizards would,” volunteered Nobby.

“Apart from wizards,” said Vimes firmly. You couldn't trust wizards. Every guard knew you couldn't trust wizards. They were even worse than civilians.

Colon thought about it. “There's always Lady Ramkin,” he said. “Lives in Scoone Avenue. Breeds swamp dragons. You know, the little buggers people keep as pets?”

“Oh, her,” said Vimes gloomily. “I think I've seen her around. The one with the 'Whinny If You Love Dragons' sticker on the back of her carriage?”

“That's her. She's mental,” said Sergeant Colon.

“What do you want me to do, sir?” said Carrot.

“Er. You have the most important job,” said Vimes hurriedly. “I want you to stay here and watch the office.”

Carrot's face broadened in a slow, unbelieving grin.

“You mean I'm left in charge, sir?” he said.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Vimes. “But you're not allowed to arrest anyone, understand?” he added quickly.

“Not even if they're breaking the law, sir?”

“Not even then. Just make a note of it.”

“I'll read my book, then,” said Carrot. "And polish my helmet.''

“Good boy,” said the captain. It should be safe enough, he thought. No-one ever comes in here, not even to report a lost dog. No-one ever thinks about the Watch. You'd have to be really out of touch to go to the Watch for help, he thought bitterly.

...

Scoone Avenue was a wide, tree-lined, and incredibly select part of Ankh, high enough above the river to be away from its all-pervading smell. People in Scoone Avenue had old money, which was supposed to be much better than new money, although Captain Vimes had never had enough of either to spot the difference. People in Scoone Avenue had their own personal bodyguards. People in Scoone Avenue were said to be so aloof they wouldn't even talk to the gods. This was a slight slander. They would talk to gods, if they were well-bred gods of decent family.

Lady Ramkin's house was not hard to find. It commanded an outcrop that gave it a magnificent view of the city, if that was your idea of a good time. There were stone dragons on the gatepost, and the gardens had an unkempt overgrown look. Statues of Ramkins long gone loomed up out of the greenery. Most of them had swords and were covered in ivy up to the neck.

Vimes sensed that this was not because the garden's owner was too poor to do anything about it, but rather that the garden's owner thought there were much more important things than ancestors, which was a pretty unusual point of view for an aristocrat.

They also apparently thought that there were more important things than property repair. When he rang the bell of the rather pleasant old house itself, in the middle of a flourishing rhododendron forest, several bits of the plaster facade fell off.