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The
bedside
table
was
piled
high
with
papers
.
Feeling
guilty
,
but
doing
it
anyway
,
Vimes
squinted
at
them
.
Dragons
was
the
theme
.
There
were
letters
from
the
Cavern
Club
Exhibitions
Committee
and
the
Friendly
Flamethrowers
League
.
There
were
pamphlets
and
appeals
from
the
Sunshine
Sanctuary
for
Sick
Dragons
-
"
Poor
little
VINNY
’
s
fires
were
nearly
Damped
after
Five
years
’
Cruel
Use
as
a
Paint
-
Stripper
,
but
now
-
"
And
there
were
requests
for
donations
,
and
talks
,
and
things
that
added
up
to
a
heart
big
enough
for
the
whole
world
,
or
at
least
that
part
of
it
that
had
wings
and
breathed
fire
.
If
you
let
your
mind
dwell
on
rooms
like
this
,
you
could
end
up
being
oddly
sad
and
full
of
a
strange
,
diffuse
compassion
which
would
lead
you
to
believe
that
it
might
be
a
good
idea
to
wipe
out
the
whole
human
race
and
start
again
with
amoebas
.
Beside
the
drift
of
paperwork
was
a
book
.
Vimes
twisted
painfully
and
looked
at
the
spine
.
It
said
:
Diseases
of
the
Dragon
,
by
Sybil
Deidre
Olgivanna
Ramkin
.
He
turned
the
stiff
pages
in
horrified
fascination
.
They
opened
into
another
world
,
a
world
of
quite
stupefying
problems
.
Slab
Throat
.
The
Black
Tups
.
Dry
Lung
.
Storge
.
Staggers
,
Heaves
,
Weeps
,
Stones
.
It
was
amazing
,
he
decided
after
reading
a
few
pages
,
that
a
swamp
dragon
ever
survived
to
see
a
second
sunrise
.
Even
walking
across
a
room
must
be
reckoned
a
biological
triumph
.
The
painstakingly
-
drawn
illustrations
he
looked
away
from
hurriedly
.
You
could
only
take
so
much
innards
.
There
was
a
knock
at
the
door
.
"
I
say
?
Are
you
decent
?
"
Lady
Ramkin
boomed
cheerfully
.
"
Er
-
"
