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He
became
terribly
aware
that
Lady
Ramkin
had
moved
,
and
saw
to
his
horror
that
she
was
striding
towards
the
dragon
,
chin
stuck
out
like
an
anvil
.
"
What
the
hell
are
you
doing
?
"
he
whispered
loudly
.
"
If
it
’
s
descended
from
the
swamp
dragons
then
I
can
probably
control
it
,
"
she
called
back
.
"
You
have
to
look
them
in
the
eye
and
use
a
no
-
nonsense
tone
of
voice
.
They
can
’
t
resist
a
stern
human
voice
.
They
don
’
t
have
the
willpower
,
you
know
.
They
’
re
just
big
softies
.
"
To
his
shame
,
Vimes
realised
that
his
legs
were
going
to
have
nothing
to
do
with
any
mad
dash
to
drag
her
back
.
His
pride
didn
’
t
like
that
,
but
his
body
pointed
out
that
it
wasn
’
t
his
pride
that
stood
a
very
reasonable
chance
of
being
thinly
laminated
to
the
nearest
building
.
Through
ears
burning
with
embarrassment
he
heard
her
say
:
"
Bad
boy
!
"
The
echoes
of
that
stern
injunction
rang
out
across
the
plaza
.
Oh
gods
,
he
thought
,
is
that
how
you
train
a
dragon
?
Point
them
at
the
melted
patch
on
the
floor
and
threaten
to
rub
their
nose
in
it
?
He
risked
a
peep
over
the
horsetrough
.
The
dragon
’
s
head
was
swinging
around
slowly
,
like
a
crane
jib
.
It
had
some
difficulty
focusing
on
her
,
right
below
it
.
Vimes
could
see
the
great
red
eyes
narrow
as
the
creature
tried
to
squint
down
the
length
of
its
own
nose
.
It
looked
puzzled
.
He
wasn
’
t
surprised
.
"
Sit
!
"
bellowed
Lady
Ramkin
,
in
a
tone
so
undisobeyable
that
even
Vimes
felt
his
legs
involuntarily
sag
.
"
Good
boy
!
I
think
I
may
have
a
lump
of
coke
somewhere
-
"
She
patted
her
pockets
.
