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She
also
had
a
dragon
on
her
shoulder
.
It
had
been
introduced
as
Talonthrust
Vincent
Wonderkind
of
Quirm
,
referred
to
as
Vinny
,
and
seemed
to
be
making
a
large
contribution
to
the
unusual
chemical
smell
that
pervaded
the
house
.
This
smell
permeated
everything
.
Even
the
generous
slice
of
cake
she
offered
him
tasted
of
it
.
"
The
,
er
,
shoulder
.
.
.
it
looks
.
.
.
very
nice
,
"
he
said
,
desperate
to
make
conversation
.
"
Rubbish
,
"
said
her
ladyship
.
"
I
’
m
just
training
him
up
because
shoulder
-
sitters
fetch
twice
the
price
.
"
Vimes
murmured
that
he
had
occasionally
seen
society
ladies
with
small
,
colourful
dragons
on
their
shoulders
,
and
thought
it
looked
very
,
er
,
nice
.
"
Oh
,
it
sounds
nice
,
"
she
said
.
"
I
’
ll
grant
you
.
Then
they
realise
it
means
sootburns
,
frizzled
hair
and
crap
all
down
their
back
.
Those
talons
dig
in
,
too
.
And
then
they
think
the
thing
’
s
getting
too
big
and
smelly
and
next
thing
you
know
it
’
s
either
down
to
the
Mor
-
pork
Sunshine
Sanctuary
for
Lost
Dragons
or
the
old
heave
-
ho
into
the
river
with
a
rope
round
your
neck
,
poor
little
buggers
.
"
She
sat
down
,
arranging
a
skirt
that
could
have
made
sails
for
a
small
fleet
.
"
Now
then
.
Captain
Vimes
,
was
it
?
"
Vimes
was
at
a
loss
.
Ramkins
long
-
dead
stared
down
at
him
from
ornate
frames
high
on
the
shadowy
walls
.
Between
,
around
and
under
the
portraits
were
the
weapons
they
’
d
presumably
used
,
and
had
used
well
and
often
by
the
look
of
them
.
Suits
of
armour
stood
in
dented
ranks
along
the
walls
.
Quite
a
number
,
he
couldn
’
t
help
noticing
,
had
large
holes
in
them
.
The
ceiling
was
a
faded
riot
of
moth
-
eaten
banners
.
You
did
not
need
forensic
examination
to
understand
that
Lady
Ramkin
’
s
ancestors
had
never
shirked
a
fight
.
It
was
amazing
that
she
was
capable
of
doing
something
so
unwarlike
as
having
a
cup
of
tea
.
"
My
forebears
,
"
she
said
,
following
his
hypnotised
gaze
.
"
You
know
,
not
one
Ramkin
in
the
last
thousand
years
has
died
in
his
bed
.
"
"
Yes
,
ma
’
am
?
"
