Guards! Guards! (Discworld 8)

“Oook,” confirmed the Librarian.

“Oh? What's it about?” said Vimes. The Librarian rolled his eyes.

“It's about how to summon dragons. By magic!”

“Oook.”

“And that's illegal, that is!” said Carrot happily. “Releasing Feral Creatures upon the Streets, contrary to the Wild Animals (Public-”

Vimes groaned. That meant wizards. You got nothing but trouble with wizards.

“I suppose,” he said, “there wouldn't be another copy of this book around, would there?”

“Oook.” The Librarian shook his head.

“And you wouldn't happen to know what's in it?” Vimes sighed.

“What? Oh. Four words,” he said wearily. “First word. Sounds like. Bend. Bough? Sow, cow, how . . . How. Second word. Small word. The, a, to . . . To. Yes, understood, but I meant in any kind of detail? No. I see.”

“What're we going to do now, sir?” said Carrot anxiously.

“It's out there,” intoned Nobby. “Gone to ground, like, during the hours of daylight. Coiled up in its secret lair, on top of a great hoard of gold, dreamin' ancient reptilian dreams fromma dawna time, waitin' for the secret curtains of the night, when once more it will sally forth-” He hesitated and added sullenly, “What're you all looking at me like that for?”

“Very poetic,” said Carrot.

“Well, everyone knows the real old dragons used to go to sleep on a hoard of gold,'' said Nobby. ' 'Well known folk myth.”

Vimes looked blankly into the immediate future. Vile though Nobby was, he was also a good indication of what was going through the mind of the average citizen. You could use him as a sort of laboratory rat to forecast what was going to happen next.

“I expect you'd be really interested in finding out where that hoard is, wouldn't you?” said Vimes experimentally.

Nobby looked even more shifty than usual. “Well, Cap'n, I was thinking of having a bit of a look around. You know. When I'm off duty, of course,” he added virtuously.

“Oh, dear,” said Captain Vimes.

He lifted up the empty bottle and, with great care, put it back in the drawer.

...

The Elucidated Brethren were nervous. A kind of fear crackled from brother to brother. It was the fear of someone who, having cheerfully experimented with pouring the powder and wadding the ball, has found that pulling the trigger had led to a godawful bang and pretty soon someone is bound to come and see who's making all the noise.

The Supreme Grand Master knew that he had them, though. Sheep and lamb, sheep and lamb. Since they couldn't do anything much worse than they had already done they might as well press on and damn the world, and pretend they'd wanted it like this all along. Oh, the joy of it ...

Only Brother Plasterer was actually happy.

“Let that be a lesson to all oppressive vegetable sellers,” he kept saying.

“Yes, er,” said Brother Doorkeeper. “Only, the thing is, there's no chance of us sort of accidentally summoning the dragon here, is there?”

“I-that is, we-have it under perfect control,” said the Supreme Grand Master smoothly. “The power is ours. I can assure you.”

The Brothers cheered up a little bit.

“And now,” the Supreme Grand Master continued, “there is the matter of the king.”

The Brothers looked solemn, except for Brother Plasterer.

“Have we found him, then?” he said. "That's a stroke of luck.''