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Errol
scrambled
down
from
his
shoulder
and
started
to
eat
the
coke
in
the
fireplace
.
Vimes
sat
back
and
put
his
feet
up
.
What
a
day
!
And
what
a
fight
!
The
dodging
,
the
weaving
,
the
shouts
of
the
crowd
,
the
young
man
standing
there
looking
tiny
and
unprotected
,
the
dragon
taking
a
deep
breath
in
a
way
now
very
familiar
to
Vimes
.
.
.
And
not
flaming
.
That
had
surprised
Vimes
.
It
had
surprised
the
crowd
.
It
had
certainly
surprised
the
dragon
,
which
had
tried
to
squint
at
its
own
nose
and
clawed
desperately
at
its
flame
ducts
.
It
had
remained
surprised
right
up
to
the
moment
when
the
lad
ducked
in
under
one
claw
and
thrust
the
sword
home
.
And
then
a
thunderclap
.
You
’
d
have
thought
there
’
d
have
been
some
bits
of
dragon
left
,
really
.
Vimes
pulled
a
scrap
of
paper
towards
him
.
He
looked
at
the
notes
he
’
d
made
yesterday
:
Itym
:
Heavy
draggon
,
but
yet
it
can
flye
right
welle
;
Itym
:
The
fyre
be
main
hot
,
yet
issueth
from
ane
living
Thinge
;
