‘Isn’t she a little precious?’ Nanny crooned. ‘I’ve probably got a sweetie somewhere-‘
‘She’s not on solids,’ said Magrat.
‘Still keeping you up at nights?’
‘And days. But she’s slept well today, thank goodness. Nanny, give her to Mr Oats and let’s sort this out right away.’
The young priest took the baby nervously, holding it, as some men do, as if it would break or at least explode.
‘There, there, there,’ he said, vaguely.
‘Now . . . what’s this about Granny?’ said Magrat.
They told her, interrupting one another at important points.
‘The gnarly ground over towards the top of the forest?’ said Magrat, when they were nearly finished.
‘That’s right,’ said Nanny.
‘What is gnarly ground?’ said Agnes.
‘There’s a lot of magic in these mountains, right?’ said Nanny. ‘And everyone knows mountains get made when lumps of land bang together, right? Well, when the magic gets trapped you . . . sort of . . . get a bit of land where the space is . . . sort of . . . scrunched up, right? It’d be quite big if it could but it’s like a bit of gnarly wood in an of tree. Or a used hanky . . . all folded up small but still big in a different way.’
‘But I’ve been up there and it’s just a bit of moor land!’
‘You’ve got to know the right direction,’ said Nanny. ‘Damn hard to scry into a place like that. It goes all wobbly. It’s like tryin’ to look at something close up and a long way away at the same time. It makes your crystal ball water.’
She pulled the green ball towards her.
‘Now, you two push an’ I’ll steer-‘
‘Er, are you going to do some magic?’ said Oats, behind them.
‘What’s the problem?’ said Nanny.
‘I mean, does it involve, er . . .’ he coloured up, ,er . . . removing your garments and dancing around and summoning lewd and salacious creatures? Only I’m afraid I couldn’t be a party to that. The Book Of Om forbids consorting with false enchanters and deceitful soothsayers, you see.’
‘I wouldn’t consort with false enchanters neither,.’ said Nanny. ‘Their beards fall off.’
‘We’re real,’ said Magrat.
‘And we certainly don’t summon lewd and salacious creatures,’ said Agnes.
‘Unless we want to,’ said Nanny Ogg, almost under her breath.
‘Well . . . all right, then,’ said Oats.
As they unwound the power, Agnes heard Perdita think I don’t like Magrat. She’s not like she used to be. Well, of course she’s not. But she’s taking charge, she’s not cringing slightly like she used to, she’s not WET. That’s because she’s a mother, Agnes thought. Mothers are only slightly damp.
She was not, herself, hugely in favour of motherhood in general. Obviously it was necessary, but it wasn’t exactly difficult. Even cats managed it. But women acted as if they’d been given a medal that entitled them to boss people around. It was as if, just because they’d got the label which said ‘mother’, everyone else got a tiny part of the label that said ‘child’ . . .
She gave a mental shrug, and concentrated on the craft in hand.
Light grew and faded inside the green globe. Agnes had only scryed a few times before, but she didn’t remember the light pulsing like this. Every time it dissolved into an image the light flickered and bounced to somewhere else . . . a patch of heather . . . a tree . . . boiling clouds . . .
And then Granny Weatherwax came and went. The image appeared and was gone in an instant, and the glow that rolled in with a finality told Agnes that this was all, folks.
‘She was lying down,’ said Magrat. ‘It was all fuzzy.’
‘Then she’s in one of the caves. She said once she goes up there to be alone with her thoughts,’ said Nanny. ‘And did you catch that little twitch? She’s trying to keep us out.’
‘The caves up there are just scoops in the rock,’ said Agnes.
‘Yes . . . and no,’ said Nanny. ‘Did I see her holding a card in her hands?’
‘The “I ate’nt dead’ card?’ said Magrat.
‘No, she’d left that in the cottage.’
‘Just when we really need her, she goes away into a cave?’
‘Does she know we need her? Did she know about the vampires?’ said Agnes.
‘Can’t we go and ask her?’ said Magrat.
‘We can’t fly all the way,’ said Nanny, scratching her chin. ‘Can’t fly prop’ly over gnarly ground. The broomsticks act funny.’
‘Then we’ll walk the rest,’ said Magrat. ‘It’s hours to sunset.’
‘You’re not corning, are you?’ said Agnes, aghast.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘But what about the baby?’
‘She seems to like it in the sling and it keeps her warm and it’s not as if there’s monsters up there,’ said Magrat. ‘Anyway, I think it’s possible to combine motherhood and a career.’
‘I thought you’d given up witchcraft,’ said Agnes.
‘Yes . . . well . . . yes. Let’s make sure Granny’s all right and get this sorted out, and then obviously I’ll have other things to do . . .’
‘But it could be dangerous!’ said Agnes. ‘Don’t you think so, Nanny?’
Nanny Ogg turned her chair and looked at the baby.
‘Cootchie-cootchie?’ she said.
The small head looked around and Esme opened her blue eyes.
Nanny Ogg stared thoughtfully.
‘Take her with us,’ she said at last. ‘I used to take our Jason everywhere when he was tiny. They like being with their mum.’
She gave the baby another long hard look.
‘Yes,’ she went on, ‘I think that’d be a damn good idea.’
‘Er . . . I feel perhaps there is little that I’d be able to do,’ Oats said.
‘Oh, it’d be too dangerous to take you,’ said Nanny dismissively.
‘But of course my prayers will go with you.’
‘That’s nice.’ Nanny sniffed.
Drizzling rain soaked Hodgesaargh as he trudged back to the castle. The damp had got into the lure, and the noise it made now could only attract some strange, lost creature, skulking in ancient estuaries. Or possibly a sheep with a very sore throat.
And then he heard the chattering of magpies.
He tied the donkey to a sapling and stepped out into a clearing. The birds were screaming in the trees around him, but erupted away at the sight of King Henry on her perch on the donkey.
Crouched against a mossy rock was . . .
. . . a small magpie. It was bedraggled and wrong, as if put together by someone who had seen one but didn’t know how it was supposed to work. It struggled when it saw him, there was a fluffing of feathers and, now, a smaller version of King Henry was trying to unfold its tattered wings.
He backed away. On her perch, the hooded eagle had its head turned to the strange bird . . .
. . . which was now a pigeon. A thrush. A wren . . .
A sudden intimation of doom made Hodgesaargh cover his eyes, but he saw the flash through the skin of his fingers, felt the thump of the flame, and smelled the scorched hairs on the back of his hand.
A few tufts of grass smouldered on the edge of a circle of scorched earth. Inside it a few pathetic bones glowed red hot and then crumbled into fine ash.
Away in the forest, the magpies screamed.
Count Magpyr stirred in the darkness of his room and opened his eyes. The pupils widened to take in more light.
‘I think she has gone to ground,’ he said.
‘That was remarkably quick,’ said the Countess. ‘I thought you said she was quite powerful.’
‘Oh, indeed. But human. And she’s getting older. With age comes doubt. It’s so simple. All alone in that barren cottage, no company but the candlelight . . . it’s so simple to open up all the little cracks and let her mind turn in on itself. It’s like watching a forest fire when the wind changes and suddenly it’s roaring down on all the houses you thought were built so strongly.’
‘So graphically put.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You were so successful in Escrow, I know. . .’
‘A model for the future. Vampires and humans in harmony at last. There is no need for this animosity, just as I have always said.’
The Countess walked over to the window and gingerly pulled aside the curtain. Despite the overcast sky, grey light filtered in.
‘There’s no requirement to be so cautious about this, either,’ said her husband, coming up behind her and jerking the curtain aside. The Countess shuddered and turned her face away.
‘You see? Still harmless. Every day, in every way, we get better and better,’ said Count Magpyr cheerfully. ‘Self help. Positive thinking. Training. Familiarity. Garlic? A pleasant seasoning. Lemons? Merely an acquired taste. Why, yesterday I mislaid a sock and I simply don’t care. I have lots of socks. Extra socks can be arranged!’ His smile faded when he saw his wife’s expression.