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They went on watching, unable to tear themselves away from the view. Tiny sparkles in the sky showed where more flocks of dragons were sweeping between the world and the moon. "We never see them back home," said Rincewind. "I suspect the swamp dragons are their descendants, poor little things," said Leonard. "Adapted for heavy air."
"I wonder what else lives down here that we don't know about?" said Carrot. "Well, there's always the invisible squid-like creature that sucks all the air out of-" Rincewind began, but sarcasm did not carry very well out here. The universe diluted it. The huge, black, solemn eyes in the sky withered it. Besides, there was just... too much. Too much of everything. He wasn't used to seeing this much universe all in one go. The blue disc of the world, unrolling slowly as the moon rose, looked outnumbered, "It's all too big." said Rincewind. "Yes."
"Ook." There was nothing to do but wait for full moonrise. Or Discsink. Carrot carefully lifted a small dragon out of a coffee cup. "The little ones get everywhere," he said. "Just like kittens. But the adults just keep their distance and stare at us."
"Like cats, then.," said Rincewind. He lifted up his hat and untangled a small silvery dragon from his hair. "I wonder if we ought to take a few back?"
"We'll be taking them all back if we're not careful!"
"They look a bit like Errol," said Carrot. "You know, the little dragon that was our Watch mascot? He saved the city by working out how to, er flame backwards. We all thought he was some new kind of dragon," Carrot added, "but now it looks as though he was a throwback. Is Leonard still out there?" They looked out at Leonard, who had taken half an hour off to do some painting. A small dragon had perched on his shoulder. "He says he's never seen light like it," said Rincewind. "He says he must have a picture. He's doing very well, considering."
"Considering what?"
"Considering that two of the tubes he was using contain tomato puree and cream cheese."
"Did you tell him?"
"I didn't like to. He was so enthusiastic."
"We'd better start feeding the dragons," said Carrot, putting his cup down. "All right. Can you unstick this frying pan from my head, please?" Half an hour later the flicker of the omniscope screen illuminated Ponder's cabin. "We've fed the dragons," said Carrot. "The plants here are... odd. They seem to be made of a sort of glassy metal. Leonard has a rather impressive theory that they absorb sunlight during the day and then shine at night, thus creating "moonlight". The dragons seem to find it very tasty. Anyway, we shall be leaving shortly. I am just collecting some rocks."
"I'm sure they will come in useful," said Lord Vetinari. "Actually, sir, they will be very valuable," whispered Ponder Stibbons. "Really?" said the Patrician. "Oh, yes! They may well be completely different from rocks on the Disc!"
"And if they are exactly the same?"
"Oh, that would be even more interesting, sir!" Lord Vetinari looked at Ponder without speaking. He could deal with most types of mind, but the one apparently operating Ponder Stibbons was of a
sort he had yet to find the handles on. It was best to nod and smile and give it the bits of machinery it seemed to think were so important, lest it run amok. "Well done," he said. "Ah, yes, of course ... and the rocks may contain valuable ores, or possibly even diamonds?" Ponder shrugged. "I wouldn't know about that. sir. But they may tell us more about the history of the moon." Vetinari's brow wrinkled. "History?" he said. "But no one lives th- I mean, yes. well done. Tell me, do you have all the machinery you need?" The swamp dragons chewed at the moon leaves. They were metallic, with a glassy surface, and little blue and green sparks sizzled over the dragons' teeth when they bit into them. The voyagers piled them up high in front of the cages. Unfortunately, the only explorer who would have noticed that the moon dragons ate only the occasional leaf was Leonard, and he had been too busy painting. Swamp dragons, on the other hand, were used to eating a lot of things in the energy-poor environment of their world. Stomachs used to transmuting the equivalent of stale cakes into usable flame took delivery of dialectric surfaces chock-full of almost pure energy. It was the food of the gods. It was only going to be a matter of time before one of them burped. The whole of the Disc was ... well, there was the problem, from Rincewind's point of view. It was below them now. It looked below, even if it was really just over there. He couldn't get over the dreadful feeling that once the Kite was airborne it would simply drop down to those distant, fleecy clouds. The Librarian helped him winch in the wing on his side, as Leonard made ready to depart. "Well, I mean. I know we've got wings and everything," Rincewind said. "It's just that I'm not at home in an environment where every direction is down."
"Ook."
"I don't know what I'll say to him. "Don't blow the world up" sounds a pretty persuasive argument to me. I'd listen to it. And I don't like the idea of going anywhere near the gods. We're like toys to them, you know." And they don't realise how easily the arms and legs come off, he added to himself. "Ook?"
"Pardon? Do you really say that?"
"Ook; "There is a ... monkey god?"
"Ook?"
"No, no, that's fine, fine. Not one of our locals ones, is he?"
"Eek."
"Oh. the Counterweight Continent. Well, they'll believe just about anything over..." He glanced out of the window and shuddered, "Down there." There was a thud as the ratchet clicked into place. "Thank yon, gentlemen." said Leonard. "Now if you'll just take your seats we-" The thump of an explosion rocked the Kite and knocked Rincewind off his feet. "How curious, one of the dragons appears to have fired a little earl-" Behold!" said Cohen, striking a pose. The Silver Horde looked around. "What?" said Evil Harry. "Behold, the citadels of the gods!" said Cohen, striking the pose again.
"Yes, well, we can see it," said Caleb. "Is there something wrong with your back?"
"Write down that I spake ""Behold!"." said Cohen to the minstrel. "Yon don't have to write down any of this other stuff."
"You wouldn't mind saying-"
"-spaking-"
"-sorry, spaking, "Behold the temples of the gods", would you?" said the minstrel. "It's got a better rhythm."
"Hah, this takes me back," said Truckle. "Remember, Hamish? You and me signed on with Duke Leofric the Legitimate when he invaded Nothingfjord?"
"Aye, I mind it."
