Most of the ornaments were cheapjack stuff bought from fairs, but Nanny Ogg never minded, provided they were colourful and shiny. So there were a lot of cross-eyed dogs, pink shepherdesses and mugs with badly spelled slogans like ‘To the Wordl’s Best Mum’ and ‘We Luove Our Nanny’. A huge gilded china beer stein that played ‘Ich Bin Ein Rattarsedschwein’ from The Student Horse was locked in a glass-fronted cabinet as a treasure too great for common display, and had earned Shirl Ogg’s picture a permanent place on the dresser.
Nanny Ogg had already cleared a space on the table for the green ball. She looked up sharply when Agnes entered.
‘You were a long time. Been dallyin’?’ she said, in an armour-piercing voice.
‘Nanny, Granny would have said that,’ said Agnes reproachfully.
Nanny shivered. ‘You’re right, gel,’ she said. ‘Let’s find her quickly, eh? I’m too cheerful to be a crone.’
‘There’s odd creatures everywhere!’ said Agnes. ‘There’s loads of centaurs! We had to dive into the ditch!’
‘Ah, I did notice you’d got grass and leaves on your dress,’ said Nanny. ‘But I was too polite to mention it.’
‘Where’re they all coming from?’
‘Down out of the mountains, I suppose. Why did you bring Soapy Sam back with you?’
‘Because he’s covered in mud, Nanny,’ said Agnes sharply, ‘and I said he could have a wash down here.’
‘Er . . . is this really a witch’s cottage?’ said Oats, staring at the assembled ranks of Oggery.
‘Oh dear,’ said Nanny.
‘Pastor Melchio said they are sinks of depravity and sexual excess.’ The young man took a nervous step backwards, knocking against a small table and causing a blue clockwork ballerina to begin a jerky pirouette to the tune of ‘Three Blind Mice’.
‘Well, we’ve got a sink all right,’ said Nanny. ‘What’s your best offer?’
‘I suppose we should be grateful that was a Nanny Ogg comment,’ said Agnes. ‘Don’t wind him up, Nanny. It’s been a busy morning.’
‘Er, which way’s the pump?’ said Oats. Agnes pointed. He hurried out, gratefully.
‘Wetter than a thunderstorm sandwich,’ said Nanny, shaking her head.
‘Granny was seen up above the long lake,’ said Agnes, sitting down at the table.
Nanny looked up sharply. ‘On that bit of moor?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘That’s bad. That’s gnarly country up there.’
‘Gnarly?’
‘All scrunched up.’
‘What? I’ve been up there. It’s just heather and gorse and there’s a few old caves at the end of the valley.’
‘Oh, really? Looked up at the clouds, did you? Oh well, let’s have a go. . .’
When Oats came back, scrubbed and shining, they were arguing. They looked rather embarrassed when they saw him.
‘I said it’d need three of us,’ said Nanny, pushing the glass ball aside. ‘Especially if she’s up there. Gnarly ground plays merry hell with scrying. We just ain’t got the power.’
‘I don’t want to go back to the castle!’
‘Magrat’s good at this sort of thing.’
‘She’s got a little baby to look after, Nanny!’
‘Yeah, in a castle full of vampires. Think about that. No knowing when they’ll get hungry again. Better for ’em both to be out of it.’
‘But-‘
‘You get her out now. I’d come myself, but you said I just sit there grinnin’.’
Agnes suddenly pointed a finger at Oats. ‘You!’
‘Me?’ he quavered.
‘You said you could see they were vampires, didn’t you?’
‘I did?’
‘You did.’
‘That’s right, I did. Er . . . and?’
‘You didn’t find your mind becoming all pink and happy?’
‘I don’t think my mind has ever been pink and happy,’ said Oats.
‘So why didn’t they get through to you?’
Oats smiled uneasily and fished in his jacket.
‘I am protected by the hand of Om,’ he said.
Nanny inspected the pendant. It showed a figure trussed across the back of a turtle.
‘You say?’ she said. ‘That’s a good wheeze, then.’
‘Just as Om reached out his hand to save the prophet Brutha from the torture, so will he spread his wings over me in my time of trial,’ said Oats, but he sounded as though he was trying to reassure himself rather than Nanny. He went on: ‘I’ve got a pamphlet if you would like to know more,’ and this time the tone was much more positive, as if the existence of Om was a little uncertain whereas the existence of pamphlets was obvious to any open-minded, rational-thinking person.
‘Don’t,’ said Nanny. She let the medallion go. ‘Well, Brother Perdore never needed any magic jewellery for fighting off people, that’s all I can say.’
‘No, he just used to breathe alcohol all over them,’ said Agnes. ‘Well, you’re coming with me, Mr Oats. I’m not facing Prince Slime again alone! And you can shut up!’
‘Er, I didn’t say anything-‘
‘I didn’t mean you, I meant- Look, you said you’ve studied vampires, didn’t you? What’s good for vampires?’
Oats thought for a moment. ‘Er . . . a nice dry coffin, er, plenty of fresh blood, er, overcast skies. . .’ His voice trailed off when he saw her expression. ‘Ah . . . well, it depends exactly where they’re from, I remember. Uberwald is a very big place. Er, cutting off the head and staking them in the heart is generally efficacious.’
‘But that works on everyone,’ said Nanny.
‘Er . . . in Splintz they die if you put a coin in their mouth and cut their head off . . .’
‘Not like ordinary people, then,’ said Nanny, taking out a notebook.
‘Er . . . in Klotz they die if you stick a lemon in their mouth-‘
‘Sounds more like it.’
‘-after you cut their head off. I believe that in Glitz you have to fill their mouth with salt, hammer a carrot into both ears, and then cut off their head.’
‘I can see it must’ve been fun finding that out.’
‘And in the valley of the Ah they believe it’s best to cut off the head and boil it in vinegar.’
‘You’re going to need someone to carry all this stuff, Agnes,’ said Nanny Ogg.
‘But in Kashncari they say you should cut off their toes and drive a nail through their neck.’
‘And cut their head off?’
‘Apparently you don’t have to.’
‘Toes is easy,’ said Nanny. ‘Old Windrow over in Bad Ass cut off two of his with a spade and he weren’t even trying.’
‘And then, of course, you can defeat them by stealing their left sock,’ said Oats.
‘Sorry?’ said Agnes. ‘I think I misheard you there.’
‘Um, they’re pathologically meticulous, you see. Some of the gypsy tribes in Borogravia say that if you steal their sock and hide it somewhere they’ll spend the rest of eternity looking for it. They can’t abide things to be out of place or missing.’
‘I wouldn’t have put this down as a very widespread belief,’ said Nanny.
‘Oh, they say in some villages that you can even slow them down by throwing poppy seed at them,’ said Oats. ‘Then they’ll have a terrible urge to count every seed. Vampires are very anal retentive, you see?’
‘I shouldn’t like meeting one that was the opposite,’ said Nanny.
‘Yes, well, I don’t think we’re going to have time to ask the Count for his precise address,’ said Agnes quickly. ‘We’re going to go in, fetch Magrat and get back here, all right? Why are you such a vampire expert, Oats?’
‘I told you, I studied this sort of thing at college. We have to know the enemy if we’re to combat evil forces . . . vampires, demons, wit-‘ He stopped.
‘Do go on,’ said Nanny Ogg, as sweet as arsenic.
‘But with witches I’m just supposed to show them the error of their ways.’ Oats coughed nervously.
‘That’s something to look forward to, then,’ said Nanny. ‘What with me not havin’ my fireproof corsets on. Off you go, then . . . all three of you.’
‘There’s three of us?’ said Oats.
Agnes felt her left arm tremble. Against every effort of will her wrist bent, her palm curled up and she felt two fingers straining to unfold. Only Nanny Ogg noticed.
‘Like having your own chaperon all the time, ain’t it?’ she said.
‘What was she talking about?’ said Oats, as they headed for the castle.
‘Her mind’s wandering,’ said Agnes, loudly.
There were covered ox-carts rumbling up the street to the castle. Agnes and Oats stood to one side and watched them.
The drivers didn’t seem interested in the bystanders. They wore drab, ill-fitting clothing, but an unusual touch was the scarf each one had wrapped around his neck so tightly that it might have been a bandage.
‘Either there’s a plague of sore throats in Uberwald or there will be nasty little puncture wounds under those, I’ll bet,’ said Agnes.
‘Er . . . I do know a bit about the way they’re supposed to control people,’ said Oats.