Men at Arms (Discworld 15)

The dragon ripped its way out of the sack and looked around for something to incinerate. Everyone tried to get out of the way.

Then its eyes crossed, and it hiccuped.

The limestone tablet pinged off the opposite wall.

'Everybody down!'

They leapt for such cover as was provided by a watertrough and a pile of clinkers.

The dragon hiccuped again, and looked puzzled.

Then it exploded.

They stuck their heads up when the smoke had cleared and looked down at the sad little crater.

Lady Ramkin took a handkerchief out of a pocket of her leather overall and blew her nose.

'Silly little bugger,' she said. 'Oh, well. How are you, Sam? Did you go to see Havelock?'

Vimes nodded. Never in his life, he thought, would he get used to the idea of the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork having a first name, or that anyone could ever know him well enough to call him by it.

'I've been thinking about this dinner tomorrow night.' he said desperately. 'You know, I really don't think I can—'

'Don't be silly,' said Lady Ramkin. 'You'll enjoy it. It's time you met the Right People. You know that.'

He nodded mournfully.

'We shall expect you up at the house at eight o'clock, then,' she said. 'And don't look like that. It'll help you tremendously. You're far too good a man to spend his nights traipsing around dark wet streets. It's time you got on in the world.'

Vimes wanted to say that he liked traipsing around dark wet streets, but it would be no use. He didn't like it much. It was just what he'd always done. He thought about his badge in the same way he thought about his nose. He didn't love it or hate it. It was just his badge.

'So just you run along. It'll be terrific fun. Have you got a handkerchief?' Vimes panicked. 'What?' 'Give it to me.' She held it close to his mouth. 'Spit. . .' she commanded.

She dabbed at a smudge on his cheek. One of the Interchangeable Emmas gave a giggle that was just audible. Lady Ramkin ignored it.

looked down at the unconscious figure. Silver dollars rolled across the cobbles.

'Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,' said Carrot. 'Poor old Here'n'now. He promised me he was going to give it up, too. Oh well He picked up a leg.

'How much money?' he said.

'Looks like three dollars,' said Angua.

'Well done. The exact amount.'

'No, the shopkeeper said—'

'Come on. Back to the Watch House. Come on, Here'n'now. It's your lucky day.'

'Why is it his lucky day?' said Angua. 'He was caught, wasn't he?'

'Yes. By us. Thieves' Guild didn't get him first. They aren't so kind as us.'

Here'n'now's head bounced from cobblestone to cobblestone.

'Pinching three dollars and then trotting straight home,' sighed Carrot. 'That's Here'n'now. Worst thief in the world.'

'But you said Thieves' Guild—'