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Its
huge
head
reared
against
the
grey
of
dawn
,
turning
slowly
.
Lady
Ramkin
and
Vimes
peered
cautiously
from
behind
a
watertrough
.
Vimes
had
his
hand
clamped
over
Errol
’
s
muzzle
.
The
little
dragon
was
whimpering
like
a
kicked
puppy
,
and
fighting
to
get
away
.
"
It
’
s
a
magnificent
brute
,
"
said
Lady
Ramkin
,
in
what
she
probably
thought
was
a
whisper
.
"
I
do
wish
you
wouldn
’
t
keep
saying
that
,
"
said
Vimes
.
There
was
a
scraping
noise
as
the
dragon
dragged
itself
over
the
stones
.
"
I
knew
it
wasn
’
t
killed
,
"
growled
Vimes
.
"
There
were
no
bits
.
It
was
too
neat
.
It
was
sent
somewhere
by
some
sort
of
magic
,
I
bet
.
Look
at
it
.
It
’
s
bloody
impossible
!
It
needs
magic
to
keep
it
alive
!
"
"
What
do
you
mean
?
"
said
Lady
Ramkin
,
not
tearing
her
gaze
from
its
armoured
flanks
.
What
did
he
mean
?
What
did
he
mean
?
He
thought
fast
.
"
It
’
s
just
not
physically
possible
,
that
’
s
what
I
mean
,
"
he
said
.
"
Nothing
that
heavy
should
be
able
to
fly
,
or
breathe
fire
like
that
.
I
told
you
.
"
