"But it's a dragon! It's just doing what a dragon does! It never would have come here if people had left it alone!"

Vimes thought: it was about to eat her, and she can still think like this. He hesitated. Perhaps that did give you the right to an opinion . . .

Sergeant Colon sidled up as they glared, white-faced, at one another, and hopped desperately from one squelching foot to the other.

"You better come at once, Captain," he said. "It's going to be bloody murder!''

Vimes waved a hand at him. "As far as I'm con­cerned," he mumbled, avoiding Sybil Ramkin's glare, "it's got it coming to it."

"It's not that," said Colon. "It's Carrot. He's ar­rested the dragon.''

Vimes paused.

"What do you mean, arrested?" he said. "You don't mean what I think you mean, do you?"

"Could be sir," said Colon uncertainly. "Could be. He was up on the rubble like a shot, sir, grabbed it by a wing and said 'You're nicked, chummy', sir. Couldn't believe it, sir. Sir, the thing is ..."

"Well?"

The sergeant hopped from one foot to the other. "You know you said prisoners weren't to be molested, sir . . ."

It was quite a large and heavy roof timber and it scythed quite slowly through the air, but when it hit people they rolled backwards and stayed hit.

"Now look," said Carrot, hauling it in and pushing back his helmet, "I don't want to have to tell anyone again, right?"

Vimes shouldered his way through the dense crowd, staring at the bulky figure atop the mound of rubble and dragon. Carrot turned slowly, the roof beam held like a staff. His gaze was like a lighthouse beam. Where it fell, the crowd lowered their weapons and looked merely sullen and uncomfortable.

"I must warn you," Carrot went on, "that interfer­ing with an officer in the execution of his duty is a serious offence. And I shall come down like a ton of bricks on the very next person who throws a stone."

A stone bounced off the back of his helmet. There was a barrage of jeers.

"Let us at it!"

"That's right!"

"We don't want guards ordering us about!"

"Quis custodiet custard?"

"Yeah? Right!"

Vimes pulled the sergeant towards him. "Go and organise some rope. Lots of rope. As thick as possi­ble. I suppose we can-oh, tie its wings together, maybe, and bind up its mouth so it can't flame."

Colon peered at him.

"Are you serious, sir? We're really going to arrest it?"

"Do it!"

It's been arrested, he thought, as he pushed his way forward. Personally I would have preferred it to drop in the sea, but it's been arrested and now we've got to deal with it or let it go free.

He felt his own feelings about the bloody thing evaporate in the face of the mob. What could you do with it? Give it a fair trial, he thought, and then exe­cute it. Not kill it. That's what heroes do out in the wilderness. You can't think like that in cities. Or rather, you can, but if you're going to then you might as well burn the whole place down right now and start again. You ought to do it ... well, by the book.

That's it. We tried everything else. Now we might as well try and do it by the book.

Anyway, he added mentally, that's a city guard up there. We've got to stick together. Nobody else will have anything to do with us.

A burly figure in front of him drew back an arm with a halfbrick in it.

"Throw that brick and you're a dead man," said Vimes, and then ducked and pushed his way through the press of people while the would-be thrower looked around in amazement.

Carrot half-raised his club in a threatening gesture as Vimes climbed up the rubble pile.

"Oh, hallo, Captain Vimes," he said, lowering it, "I have to report I have arrested this-"

"Yes, I can see," said Vimes. "Did you have any suggestions about what we do next?"

"Oh, yes, sir. I have to read it its rights, sir," said Carrot.

"I mean apart from that."

"Not really, sir."

Vimes looked at those parts of the dragon still vis­ible under the rubble. How could you kill one of these? You'd have to spend a day at it.

A lump of rock ricocheted off his breastplate.

"Who did that?"

The voice lashed out like a whip.

The crowd went quiet.

Sybil Ramkin scrambled up on the wreckage, eyes afire, and glared furiously at the mob.

"I said," she said, "who did that? If the person who did it does not own up I shall be extremely angry! Shame on you all!"

She had their full attention. Several people holding stones and things let them drop quietly to the ground.

The breeze flapped the remnants of her nightshirt as her Ladyship took up a new haranguing position.

"Here is the gallant Captain Vimes…"

"Oh gods," said Vimes in a small voice, and pulled his helmet down over his eyes.

"…and his dauntless men, who have taken the trou­ble to come here today, to save your…"

Vimes gripped Carrot's arm and manoeuvred him down the far side of the heap.

"You all right, Captain?" said the lance-constable. "You've gone all red."

"Don't you start," snapped Vimes. "It's bad enough getting all those leers from Nobby and the ser­geant."

To his astonishment Carrot patted him companion-ably on the shoulder.

"I know how it is," he said sympathetically. "I had this girl back home, her name was Minty, and her father…"

"Look, for the last time, there is absolutely nothing between…" Vimes began.