Guards! Guards! (Discworld 8)

“Don't even say it,” warned Colon.

“The best bit is when you stick the knife in and crack the fat and all the browny gold stuff bubbles up,” said Carrot dreamily. “A moment like that is worth a ki-”

“Shutup! Shutup!” shouted Colon. “You're just- what the hell was that?”

They felt the sudden downdraught, saw the mist above them roll into coils that broke against the house walls. A blast of colder air swept along the street, and was gone.

“It was like something gliding past, up there somewhere,” said the sergeant. He froze. “Here, you don't think-?”

“We saw it killed, didn't we?” said Nobby urgently.

“We saw it vanish, ” said Carrot.

They looked at one another, alone and damp in the mist-shrouded street. There could be anything up there. The imagination peopled the dank air with terrible apparitions. And what was worse was the knowledge that Nature might have done an even better job.

“Nah,” said Colon. “It was probably just some . . . some big wading bird. Or something.”

“Isn't there anything we should do?” said Carrot.

“Yes,” said Nobby. “We should go away quickly. Remember Gaskin.”

“Maybe it's another dragon,” said Carrot. “We should warn people and-”

“No,” said Sergeant Colon vehemently, “because, Ae, they wouldn't believe us and, Bee, we've got a king now. 'S his job, dragons.”

“S'right,” said Nobby. “He'd probably be really angry. Dragons are probably, you know, royal animals. Like deer. A man could probably have his tridlins plucked just for thinking about killing one, when there's a king around.”[17]

“Makes you glad you're common,” said Colon.

“Commoner,” corrected Nobby.

“That's not a very civic attitude-” Carrot began. He was interrupted by Errol.

The little dragon came trotting up the middle of the street, stumpy tail high, his eyes fixed on the clouds above him. He went right by the rank without giving them any attention at all.

“What's up with him?” said Nobby.

A clatter behind them introduced the Ramkin coach.

“Men?” said Vimes hesitantly, peering through the fog.

“Definitely,” said Sergeant Colon.

“Did you see a dragon go past? Apart from Errol?”

“Well, er,” said the sergeant, looking at the other two. “Sort of, sir. Possibly. It might of been.”

“Then don't stand there like a lot of boobies,” said Lady Ramkin. “Get in! Plenty of room inside!”

There was. When it was built, the coach had probably been the marvel of the day, all plush and gilt and tasselled hangings. Time, neglect and the ripping out of the seats to allow its frequent use to transport dragons to shows had taken their toll, but it still reeked of privilege, style and, of course, dragons.

“What do you think you're doing?” said Colon, as it rattled off through the fog.

“Wavin',” said Nobby, gesturing graciously to the billows around them.

“Disgusting, this sort of thing, really,” mused Sergeant Colon. “People goin' around in coaches like this when there's people with no roof to their heads.”

“It's Lady Ramkin's coach,” said Nobby. “She's all right.”