To her amazement, two pikes barred her way as she stepped under the arched gateway.
‘We’re not attacking, you know,’ she said.
A corporal gave her a salute.
‘No ma’am,’ he said. ‘But we have orders to stop borderline cases.’
‘Borderline?’ said Nanny. ‘What’s borderline about us?’
The corporal swallowed. Granny Weatherwax’s gaze was a hard one to meet.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’re a bit… grubby.’
There was a ringing silence. Granny took a deep breath.
‘We had a bit of an accident in the swamp,’ said Magrat quickly.
‘I’m sure it’ll be all right,’ said the corporal wretchedly. “The captain’ll be here directly. Only there’s all kinds of trouble if we let the wrong sort in. You’d be amazed at some of the people we get here.’
‘Can’t go letting the wrong sort in,’ said Nanny Ogg. ‘We wouldn’t want you to let the wrong sort in. I daresay we wouldn’t want to come into the kind of city that’d let the wrong sort in, would we, Esme?’
Magrat kicked her on the ankle.
‘Good thing we’re the right sort,’ said Nanny.
‘What’s happening, corporal?’
The captain of the guard strolled out of a door in the archway and walked over to the witches.
‘These … ladies want to come in, sir,’ said the corporal.
‘Well?’
‘They’re a bit… you know, not one hundred per cent clean,’ said the corporal, wilting under Granny’s stare. ‘And one of them’s got messy hair – ‘
‘Well!’ snapped Magrat.
‘- and one of them looks like she uses bad language.’
‘What?’ said Nanny, her grin evaporating. ‘I’ll tan your hide, you little bugger!’
‘But, corporal, they have got brooms,’ said the captain. ‘It’s very hard for cleaning staff to look tidy all the time.’
‘Cleaning staff?’ said Granny.
‘I’m sure they’re as anxious as you are to get tidied up,’ said the captain.
‘Excuse me,’ said Granny, empowering the words with much the same undertones as are carried by words like ‘Charge!’ and ‘Kill!’, ‘Excuse me, but does this pointy hat I’m wearing mean anything to you?’
The soldiers looked at it politely.
‘Can you give me a clue?’ said the captain, eventually.
‘It means – ‘
‘We’ll just trot along in, if it’s all the same to you,’ said Nanny Ogg. ‘Got a lot of cleaning up to do.’ She flourished her broomstick. ‘Come, ladies.’
She and Magrat grasped Granny’s elbows firmly and propelled her under the archway before her fuse burned out. Granny Weatherwax always held that you ought to count up to ten before losing your temper. No-one knew why, because the only effect of this was to build up the pressure and make the ensuing explosion a whole lot worse.
The witches didn’t stop until they were out of sight of the gate.
‘Now, Esme,’ said Nanny soothingly, ‘you shouldn’t take it personal. And we are a bit mucky, you must admit. They were just doing their job, all right? How about that?’
‘They treated us as if we was ordinary people,’ said Granny, in a shocked voice.
‘This is foreign parts, Granny,’ said Magrat. ‘Anyway, you said the men on the boat didn’t recognize the hat, either.’
‘But then I dint want ‘em to,’ said Granny. ‘That’s different.’
‘It’s just an … an incident, Granny,’ said Magrat. ‘They were just stupid soldiers. They don’t even know a proper free-form hairstyle when they see it.’
Nanny looked around. Crowds milled past them, almost in silence.
‘And you must admit it’s a nice clean city,’ she said.
They took stock of their surroundings.
It was certainly the cleanest place they’d ever seen. Even the cobblestones had a polished look.
‘You could eat your tea off the street,’ said Nanny, as they strolled along.
‘Yes, but you’d eat your tea off the street anyway,’ said Granny.
‘I wouldn’t eat all of it. Even the gutters are scrubbed. Not a Ronald* in sight, look.’
‘Gytha!’
* Ronald the Third of Lancre, believed to be an extremely unpleasant monarch, was remembered by posterity only in this obscure bit of rhyming slang.
‘Well, you said that in Ankh-Morpork – ‘
‘This is somewhere else!’
‘It’s so spotless,’ said Magrat. ‘Makes you wish you’d cleaned your sandals.’
‘Yeah.’ Nanny Ogg squinted along the street. ‘Makes you wish you were a better person, really.’
‘Why are you two whispering?’ said Granny.
She followed their gaze. There was a guard standing on the street corner. When he saw them looking at him he touched his helmet and gave them a brief smile.
‘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.’
i54
‘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.