Guards! Guards! (Discworld 8)

“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?”

“No, my lord. On it. ”

The Patrician turned this fact over in his mind. “Don't they find it rather knobbly?” he said.

“So I would imagine, sir. I don't suppose anyone has ever asked.”

“Hmm. Can they talk?”

“They're apparently good at it, my lord.”

“Ah. Interesting.”

The Patrician was thinking: if it can talk, it can negotiate. If it can negotiate, then I have it by the short-by the small scales, or whatever it is they have.

“And they are said to be silver tongued,” said Wonse. The Patrician leaned back in his chair.

“Only silver?” he said.

There was the sound of muted voices in the passageway outside and Vimes was ushered in.

“Ah, Captain,” said the Patrician, “what progress?”

“I'm sorry, my lord?” said Vimes, as the rain dripped off his cape.

“Towards apprehending this dragon,” said the Patrician firmly.

“The wading bird?” said Vimes.

“You know very well what I mean,” said Vetinari sharply.

“Investigations are in hand,” said Vimes automatically.

The Patrician snorted. “All you have to do is find its lair,” he said. “Once you have the lair, you have the dragon. That's obvious. Half the city seems to be looking for it.”

“If there is a lair,” said Vimes.

Wonse looked up sharply.