Lords And Ladies

"What with your mum being dead and you having no female relatives and everything. . ."

Magrat still looked puzzled.

"After the wedding, is what I'm hinting about," said Nanny.

"Oh, that. No, most of that's being done by a caterer. The cook here isn't much good at canapes and things."

Nanny looked carefully at the ceiling.

"And what about after that?" she said. "If you catch my meaning."

"I'm getting a lot of girls in to do the clearing up. Look, don't worry. I've thought of everything. I wish you and Granny wouldn't treat me as if I don't know anything."

Nanny coughed. "Your man," she said. "Been around a bit, I expect? Been walking out with dozens of young women, I've no doubt."

"Why do you say that? I don't think he has. Fools don't have much of a private life and, of course, he's been very busy since he's been king. He's a bit shy with girls."

Nanny gave up.

"Oh, well," she said, "I'm sure you'll work it all out as you-"

Granny and the king reappeared.

"How's the girl?" said Granny.

"We took out the arrow and cleaned up the wound, anyway," said Magrat. "But she won't wake up. Best if she stays here."

"You sure?" said Granny. "She needs keeping an eye on. I've got a spare bedroom."

"She shouldn't be moved," said Magrat, briskly.

"They've put their mark on her," said Granny. "You sure you know how to deal with it?"

"I do know it's quite a nasty wound," said Magrat, briskly.

"I ain't exactly thinking about the wound," said Granny. "She's been touched by them is what I mean. She's-"

"I'm sure I know how to deal with a sick person," said Magrat. "I'm not totally stupid, you know."

"She's not to be left alone," Granny persisted.

"There'll be plenty of people around," said Verence. "The guests start arriving tomorrow."

"Being alone isn't the same as not having other people around," said Granny.

"This is a castle. Granny."

"Right. Well. We won't keep you, then," said Granny. "Come, Gytha."

Nanny Ogg helped herself to an elderly lamb chop from under one of the silver covers, and waved it vaguely at the royal pair.

"Have fun," she said. "Insofar as that's possible."

"Gytha!"

"Coming."

Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder.

Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels.

Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies.

Elves are glamorous. They project glamour.

Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment.

Elves are terrific. They beget terror.

The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes look for them behind words that have changed their meaning.

No one ever said elves are nice.

Elves are bad.

"Well, that's it," said Nanny Ogg, as the witches walked out over the castle's drawbridge. "Well done, Esme."

"It ain't over," said Granny Weatherwax.

"You said yourself they can't get through now. No one else round here's going to try any magic at the stones, that's sure enough."

"Yes, but it'll be circle time for another day or so yet. Anything could happen."

"That Diamanda girl's out of it, and you've put the wind up the others," said Nanny Ogg, tossing the lamb bone into the dry moat. "Ain't no one else going to call 'em, I know that."

"There's still the one in the dungeon."

"You want to get rid of it?" said Nanny. "I'll send our Shawn to King Ironfoundersson up at Copperhead, if you like. Or I could hop on the old broomstick meself and go and drop the word to the Mountain King. The dwarfs and trolls'll take it off our hands like a shot. No more problem."

Granny ignored this.

"There's something else," she said. "Something we haven't thought of. She'll still be looking for a way."

They'd reached the town square now. She surveyed it. Of course, Verence was king and that was right and proper, and this was his kingdom and that was right and proper too. But in a deeper sense the kingdom belonged to her. And to Gytha Ogg, of course. Verence's writ only ran to the doings of mankind; even the dwarfs and trolls didn't acknowledge him as king, although they were very polite about it. But when it came to the trees and the rocks and the soil. Granny Weatherwax saw it as hers. She was sensitive to its moods.

It was still being watched. She could sense the watchfulness. Sufficiently close examination changes the thing being observed, and what was being observed was the whole country. The whole country was under attack, and here she was, her mind unravelling . . .

"Funny thing," said Nanny Ogg, to no one in particular, "while I was sitting up there at the Dancers this morning I thought, funny thing. . ."

"What're you going on about now?"

"I remember when I was young there was a girl like Diamanda. Bad-tempered and impatient and talented and a real pain in the bum to the old witches. I don't know if you happen to remember her, by any chance?"

They passed Jason's forge, which rang to the sound of his hammer.

"I never forgot her," said Granny, quietly.

"Funny thing, how things go round in circles . . ."