Guards! Guards! (Discworld 8)

It was essential that he didn't leave footprints. But that wasn't a problem. He shinned up the side of the nearest bookcase and, under the starlight of the dome, hurried onwards.

...

Lupine Wonse glared up, red-eyed, from the heap of paperwork on his desk. No-one in the city knew anything about coronations. He'd had to make it up as he went along. There should be plenty of things to wave, he knew that.

“Yes?” he said, abruptly.

“Er, there's a Captain Vimes to see you,” said the flunkey.

“Vimes of the Watch?”

“Yes, sir. Says it's of the upmost importance.”

Wonse looked down his list of other things that were also of the utmost importance. Crowning the king, for one thing. The high priests of fifty-three religions were all claiming the honour. It was going to be a scrum. And then there were the crown jewels.

Or rather, there weren't the crown jewels. Somewhere in the preceding generations the crown jewels had disappeared. A jeweller in the Street of Cunning Artificers was doing the best he could in the time with gilt and glass.

Vimes could wait.

“Tell him to come back another day,” said Wonse.

“Good of you to see us,” said Vimes, appearing in the doorway.

Wonse glared at him.

“Since you're here . . .” he said. Vimes dropped his helmet on Wonse's desk in what the secretary thought was an offensive manner, and sat down.

“Take a seat,” said Wonse.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” said Vimes.

“Now really-” Wonse began.

“Don't worry,” said Vimes cheerfully. “Constable Carrot will go and see what's hi the kitchens. This chap will show him the way.”

When they had gone Wonse leaned across the drifts of paperwork.

“There had better,” he said, “be a very good reason for-”

“The dragon is back,” said Vimes.

Wonse stared at him for a while.

Vimes stared back.

Wonse's senses came back from whatever corners they'd bounced into.

“You've been drinking, haven't you,” he said.

“No. The dragon is back. ”

“Now, look-” Wonse began.

“I saw it,” said Vimes flatly.

“A dragon? You're sure?”

Vimes leaned across the desk. “No! I could be bloody mistaken!” he shouted. “It may have been something else with sodding great big claws, huge leathery wings and hot, fiery breath! There must be masses of things like that!”