There was no one in the guardroom. Errol lay in the wreckage of the fourth fruit box Nobby had scrounged for him. The rest had all been eaten, or had dissolved.
In the warm silence the everlasting rumbling of his stomach sounded especially loud. Occasionally he whimpered.
'What's up with you, boy?' he said.
The door creaked open. Carrot came in, saw Vimes hunkered down by the ravaged box, and saluted.
'We're a bit worried about him, Captain,' he volunteered. 'He hasn't eaten his coal. Just lies there twitching and whining all the time. You don't think something's wrong with him, do you?'
'Possibly,' said Vimes. 'But having something wrong with them is quite normal for a dragon. They always get over it. One way or another.'
Errol gave him a mournful look and closed his eyes again. Vimes pulled his scrap of blanket over him.
There was a squeak. He fished around beside the dragon's shivering body, pulled out a small rubber hippo, stared at it in surprise and then gave it one or two experimental squeezes.
'I thought it would be something for him to play with,' said Carrot, slightly shamefaced.
'You bought him a little toy?'
'Yes, sir.'
'What a kind thought.'
Vimes hoped Carrot hadn't noticed the fluffy ball tucked into the back of the box. It had
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