Then, with extreme delicacy, it extended one metre-long claw and hooked the thing out of the priest's trembling fingers.
'What d'you mean, sensitive?' said Vimes, watching the claw travel slowly towards the long, horse-like face.
'A really incredible sense of taste. They're so, well, chemically orientated.'
'You mean it can probably taste gold?' whispered Vimes, watching the crown being carefully licked.
'Oh, certainly. And smell it.'
Vimes wondered what the chances were of the crown being made of gold. Not high, he decided. Gold foil over copper, perhaps. Enough to fool human beings. And then he wondered what someone's reaction would be if they were offered sugar which turned out, once you'd put three spoonfuls in your coffee, to be salt.
The dragon removed the claw from its mouth in one graceful movement and caught the high priest, who was just sneaking away, a blow which knocked him high into the air. When he was screaming at the top of the arc the great mouth came around and…
'Gosh!' said Lady Ramkin.
There was a groan from the watchers.
'The temperature of the thing!' said Vines. 'I mean, nothing left! Just a wisp of smoke!'
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