Guards! Guards! (Discworld 8)

Colon looked puzzled. “It wouldn't do that, would it?” he said.

“Don't see what's to prevent it, do you?” said Nobby. He glanced out of the doorway. “He was a good lad, that boy. Used to run errands for my grandad. Who'd have thought he'd go around with a dragon on his chest ...”

“What are we going to do, Sergeant?” said Carrot.

“I don't want to be burned alive,” said Sergeant Colon. “My wife'd give me hell. So I suppose we've got to wossname, proclaim it. But don't worry, lad,” he said, patting Carrot on one muscular arm and repeating, as if he hadn't quite believed himself the first time, “it won't come to that. People'll never stand for it.”

...

Lady Ramkin ran her hands over Errol's body.

“Damned if I know what's going on in there,” she said. The little dragon tried to lick her face. “What's he been eating?”

“The last thing, I think, was a kettle,” said Vimes.

“A kettle of what?”

“No. A kettle. A black thing with a handle and spout. He sniffed it for ages, then he ate it.”

Enrol grinned weakly at him, and belched. They both ducked.

“Oh, and then we found him eating soot out of the chimney,” Vimes went on, as their heads rose again over the railings.

They leaned back over the reinforced bunker that was one of Lady Ramkin's sickbay pens. It had to be reinforced. Usually one of the first things a sick dragon did was lose control of its digestive processes.

“He doesn't look sick, exactly,” she said. “Just fat.”

“He whines a lot. And you can sort of see things moving under his skin. You know what I think? You know you said they can rearrange their digestive system?”

“Oh, yes. All the stomachs and pancreatic crackers can be hooked up in various ways, you see. To take advantage-”

“Of whatever they can find to make flame with,” said Vimes. “Yes. I think he's trying to make some sort of very hot flame. He wants to challenge the big dragon. Every time it takes to the air he just sits there whining.”

“And doesn't explode?”

“Not that we've noticed. I mean, I'm sure if he did, we'd spot it.”

“He just eats indiscriminately?”

“Hard to be sure. He sniffs everything, and eats most things. Two gallons of lamp oil, for example. Anyway, I can't leave him down there. We can't look after him properly. It's not as if we need to find out where the dragon is now,” he added bitterly.

“I think you're being a bit silly about all this,” she said, leading the way back to the house.

“Silly? I was sacked in front of all those people!”

“Yes, but it was all a misunderstanding, I'm sure.”

“I didn't misunderstand it!”

“Well, I think you're just upset because you're impotent.”

Vimes's eyes bulged. “Whee?” he said.

“Against the dragon,” Lady Ramkin went on, quite unconcerned. “You can't do anything about it.”

“I reckon this damn city and the dragon just about deserve one another,” said Vimes.

“People are frightened. You can't expect much of people when they're so frightened.” She touched him gingerly on his arm. It was like watching an industrial robot being expertly manipulated to grasp an egg gently.