Someone nudged the Archchancellor of Unseen University, who had nodded off.
“Eh? What?” said the wizard, startled into wakefulness.
“We were wondering,” said the Patrician loudly, “what you were intending to do about this dragon of yours?”
The Archchancellor was old, but a lifetime of survival in the world of competitive wizardry and the byzantine politics of Unseen University meant that he could whip up a defensive argument in a split second. You didn't remain Archchancellor for long if you let that sort of ingenuous remark whizz past your ear.
“My dragon?” he said.
“It's well known that the great dragons are extinct,” said the Patrician brusquely. “And, besides, their natural habitat was definitely rural. So it seems to me that this one must be mag-”
“With respect, Lord Vetinari,” said the Archchancellor, “it has often been claimed that dragons are extinct, but the current evidence, if I may make so bold, tends to cast a certain doubt on the theory. As to habitat, what we are seeing here is simply a change of behaviour pattern, occasioned by the spread of urban areas into the countryside which has led many hitherto rural creatures to adopt, nay in many cases to positively embrace, a more municipal mode of existence, and many of them thrive on the new opportunities thereby opened to them. For example, foxes are always knocking over my dustbins.”
He beamed. He'd managed to get all the way through it without actually needing to engage his brain.
“Are you saying,” said the assassin slowly, “that what we've got here is the first civic dragon?”
“That's evolution for you,” said the wizard, happily. “It should do well, too,” he added. “Plenty of nesting sites, and a more than adequate food supply.”
Silence greeted this statement, until the merchant said. “What exactly is it that they do eat?”
The thief shrugged. “I seem to recall stories about virgins chained to huge rocks,” he volunteered.
“It'll starve round here, then,” said the assassin. “We 're on loam.”
“They used to go around ravening,” said the thief. “Dunno if that's any help ...”
“Anyway,” said the leader of the merchants, “it seems to be your problem again, my lord.”
Five minutes later the Patrician was striding the length of the Oblong Office, fuming.
“They were laughing at me,” said the Patrician. “I could tell!”
“Did you suggest a working party?” said Wonse.
“Of course I did! It didn't do the trick this time. You know, I really am inclined to increase the reward money.”
“I don't think that would work, my lord. Any proficient monster slayer knows the rate for the job.”
“Ha! Half the kingdom,” muttered the Patrician.
“And your daughter's hand in marriage,” said Wonse.
“I suppose an aunt isn't acceptable?” the Patrician said hopefully.
“Tradition demands a daughter, my lord.”
The Patrician nodded gloomily.
“Perhaps we can buy it off,” he said aloud. “Are dragons intelligent?”
“I believe the word traditionally is 'cunning', my lord,” said Wonse. “I understand they have a liking for gold.”
“Really? What do they spend it on?”
“They sleep on it, my lord.”
“What, do you mean in a mattress?”