"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.

"Not everyone's as brave as you," she added, tim­idly.

"Me?"

"The other week. When you stopped them killing my dragons."

"Oh, that. That's not bravery. Anyway, that was just people. People are easier. I'll tell you one thing for nothing, I'm not looking up that dragon's nose again. I wake up at days thinking about that."

"Oh." She seemed deflated. "Well, if you're sure . . . I've got a lot of friends, you know. If you need any help, you've only got to say. The Duke of Sto Helit is looking for a guard captain, I'm sure. I'll write you a letter. You'll like them, they're a very nice young cou­ple."

"I'm not sure what I shall do next," said Vimes, more gruffly than he intended. "I'm considering one or two offers."

"Well, of course. I'm sure you know best."

Vimes nodded.

Lady Ramkin twisted her handkerchief round and round in her hands.

"Well, then," she said.

"Well," said Vimes.

"I, er, expect you'll be wanting to be off, then."

"Yes, I expect I had better be going."

There was a pause. Then they both spoke at once.

"It's been very…"

"I'd just like to say…"

"Sorry."

"Sorry."

"No, you were speaking."

"No, sorry, you were saying?"

"Oh." Vimes hesitated. "I'll be off, then."

"Oh. Yes." Lady Ramkin gave him a washed-out smile. "Can't keep all these offers waiting, can you," she said.

She thrust out a hand. Vimes shook it carefully.

"So I'll just be going, then," he said.

"Do call again," said Lady Ramkin, more coldly, "if you are ever in this area. And so on. I'm sure Errol would like to see you."

"Yes. Well. Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye, Captain Vimes."

He stumbled out of the door and walked hurriedly down the dark, overgrown path. He could feel her gaze on the back of his neck as he did so or, at least, he told himself that he could. She'd be standing in the doorway, nearly blocking out the light. Just watching me. But I'm not going to look back, he thought. That would be a really silly thing to do. I mean, she's a lovely person, she's got a lot of common sense and an enormous personality, but really . . .

I'm not going to look back, even if she stands there while I walk all the way down the street. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

So when he heard the door shut when he was only halfway down the drive he suddenly felt very, very angry, as if he had just been robbed.

He stood still and clasped and unclasped his hands in the darkness. He wasn't Captain Vimes any more, he was Citizen Vimes, which meant that he could do things he'd once never dreamt of doing. Perhaps he could go and smash some windows.