He looked at the remains of Arthur.
'I think around about now is a good time to demonstrate the fine points of harchery,' he said.
Lady Sybil Ramkin looked at the sad strip of leather that was all that remained of the late Chubby.
'Who'd do something like this to a poor little dragon?' she said.
'We're trying to find out,' said Vimes. 'We . . . we think maybe he was tied up next to a wall and exploded.'
Carrot leaned over the wall of a pen.
'Coochee-coochee-coo?' he said. A friendly flame took his eyebrows off.
'I mean, he was as tame as anything,' said Lady Ramkin. 'Wouldn't hurt a fly, poor little thing.'
'How could someone make a dragon blow up?' said Vimes. 'Could you do it by giving it a kick?'
'Oh, yes,' said Sybil. 'You'd lose your leg, mind you.'
'Then it wasn't that. Any other way? So you wouldn't get hurt?'
'Not really. It'd be easier to make it blow itself up. Really, Sam, I don't like talking about—'
'I have to know.'
'Well . . . at this time of year the males fight. Make themselves look big, you know? That's why I always keep them apart.'
Vimes shook his head. 'There was only one dragon,' he said.
Behind them, Carrot leaned over the next pen, where a pear-shaped male dragon opened one eye and glared at him.
'Whosagoodboyden?' murmured Carrot. 'I'm sure I've got a bit of coal somewhere—'
The dragon opened the other eye, blinked, and then was fully awake and rearing up. Its ears flattened. Its nostrils flared. Its wings unfurled. It breathed in. From its stomach came the gurgle of rushing acids as sluices and valves were opened. Its feet left the floor. Its chest expanded—
Vimes hit Carrot at waist height, bearing him to the ground.
In its pen the dragon blinked. The enemy had mysteriously gone. Scared off!
It subsided, blowing off a huge flame.
Vimes unclasped his hands from his head and rolled over.
'What'd you do that for, captain?' said Carrot. 'I wasn't—'
ainly, m'Lord,' said the Assassin, glumly. 'But—'
Noon began.
Noon in Ankh-Morpork took some time, since twelve o'clock was established by consensus. Generally, the first bell to start was that one in the Teachers' Guild, in response to the universal prayers of its members. Then the water clock on the Temple of Small Gods would trigger the big bronze gong. The black bell in the Temple of Fate struck once, unexpectedly, but by then the silver pedal-driven carillon in the Fools' Guild would be tinkling, the gongs, bells and chimes of all the Guilds and temples would be in full swing, and it was impossible to tell them apart, except for the tongueless and magical octiron bell of Old Tom in the Unseen University clock tower, whose twelve measured silences temporarily overruled the din.
And finally, several strokes behind all the others, was the bell of the Assassins' Guild, which was always last.
Beside the Patrician, the ornamental sundial chimed twice and fell over.
'You were saying?' said the Patrician mildly.
'Captain Vimes,' said Dr Cruces. 'He's taking an interest.'