Witches Abroad

"Even the guards are polite," said Magrat.

"And there's so many of them, too," said Granny.

"Amazing, really, needing all these guards in a city where people are so clean and quiet," said Magrat.

"Perhaps there's so much niceness to be spread around they need a lot of people to do it," said Nanny Ogg.

The witches wandered through the packed streets.

"Nice houses, though," said Magrat. "Very decorative and olde-worlde."

Granny Weatherwax, who lived in a cottage that was as olde-worlde as it was possible to be without being a lump of metamorphic rock, made no comment.

Nanny Ogg's feet started to complain.

"We ought to find somewhere to stop the night," she said. "We can look for this girl in the morning. We'll all do a lot better for a good night's sleep."

"And a bath," said Magrat. "With soothing herbs."

"Good idea. I could just go a bath too," said Nanny.

"My word, doesn't autumn roll around quickly," said Granny sourly.

"Yeah? When did you last have a bath, Esme?"

"What do you mean, last?

"See? Then there's no call to make comments about my ablutions."

"Baths is unhygienic," Granny declared. "You know I've never agreed with baths. Sittin" around in your own dirt like that."

"What do you do, then?" said Magrat.

"I just washes," said Granny. "All the bits. You know. As and when they becomes available."

However available they were, and no further information was vouchsafed on this point, they were certainly more available than accommodation in Genua in Fat Lunchtime.

All the taverns and inns were more than full. Gradually the press of crowds pushed them out of the main streets and into the less fashionable quarters of the city, but still there was no room for the three of them.

Granny Weatherwax had had enough.

"The very next place we see," she said, setting her jaw firmly, "we're goin' in. What's that inn over there?"

Nanny Ogg peered at the sign.

"Hotel... No... Va... cancies," she muttered, and then brightened up. "Hotel Nova Cancies," she repeated. "That means "new, er, Cancies" in foreign," she added helpfully.

"It'll do," said Granny.

She pushed open the door. A round, red-faced man looked up from the desk. He was new to the job and very nervous; the last incumbent had disappeared for not being round and red-faced enough.

Granny didn't waste time.

"You see this hat?" she demanded. "You see this broom?"

The man looked from her to the broom, and back again.

"Yes?" he said. "What's that mean?"

"Means we want three rooms for the night," said Granny, looking smugly at the other two.

"With sausage," said Nanny.

"And one vegetarian meal," said Magrat.

The man looked at all three of them. Then he went over to the door.

"You see this door? You see this sign?" he said.

"We don't bother about signs," said Granny.

"Well, then," said the man, "I give up. What's a pointy hat and a broom really mean?"

"That means I'm a witch," said Granny.

The man put his head on one side.

"Yeah?" he said. "Is that another word for daft old woman?"

Dear Jason and everyone, wrote Nanny Ogg, Dyou know, they dont know about witches here, thats how bakcward they are in foreign pans. -A man gave Esme some Cheek and she would of lost her Temper so me and Magrat and I got hold of her and rushed her out because if you make someone think they've been turned into something there's always trouble, you remember what happened larst time when afterwards you had to go and dig a pond for Mr Wilkins to live in...

They had managed to find a table to themselves in a tavern. It was packed with people of all species. The noise was at shouting level and smoke wreathed the air.

"Will you stop that scribbling, Gytha Ogg. It gets on my nerves," snapped Granny.

"They must have witches here," said Magrat. "Everywhere has witches. You've got to have witches abroad. You find witches everywhere."

"Like cockroaches," said Nanny Ogg cheerfully.

"You should've let me make him believe he was a frog," muttered Granny.

"You can't do that, Esme. You can't go around making people believe they're things just because they've been cheeky and don't know who you are," said Gytha. "Otherwise we'd be up to here in people hopping about."

Despite many threats, Granny Weatherwax had never turned anyone into a frog. The way she saw it, there was a technically less cruel but cheaper and much more satisfying thing you could do. You could leave them human and make them think they were a frog, which also provided much innocent entertainment for passers-by.

"I always felt sorry for Mr Wilkins," said Magrat, staring moodily at the table top. "It was so sad watching him try to catch flies on his tongue."

"He shouldn't have said what he said," said Granny.

"What, that you were a domineering old busybody?" said Nanny innocently.

"I don't mind criticism," said Granny. "You know me. I've never been one to take offence at criticism. No-one could say I'm the sort to take offence at criticism - "

"Not twice, anyway," said Nanny. "Not without blowing bubbles."