‘Yes, he did. He must have done.’
‘And,’ said Agnes, ‘on that basis you’d go back
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because if I didn’t, what use am I? What use am I anyway?’
‘I don’t think we’d survive a second time,’ said Agnes. ‘They let us go this time because it was the cruel thing to do. Dang! I’ve got to decide what to do now, and it shouldn’t be me. I’m the maiden, for goodness’ sake!’ She saw his expression and added, for reasons she’d find hard to explain at the moment, ‘A technical term for the junior member of a trio of witches. I shouldn’t have to decide things. Yes, I know it’s better than making the tea!’
‘Br . . . I didn’t say anything about making the tea-‘
‘No, sorry, that was someone else. What is it she wants me to do?’
Especially since now you think you know where she’s hiding, said Perdita.
There was a creak, and they heard the hall doors open. Light spilled out, shadows danced in the mist raised by the driving rain, there was a splash and the doors shut again. As they closed, there was the sound of laughter.
Agnes hurried to the bottom of the steps, with the priest squelching along beside her.
There was already a wide and muddy puddle at this end of the courtyard. Granny Weatherwax lay in it, her dress torn, her hair uncoiling from its rock-hard bun.
There was blood on her neck.
‘They didn’t even lock her in a cell or something,’ said Agnes, steaming with rage. ‘They just threw her like . . . like a meat bone!’
‘I suppose they think she is locked up now, the poor soul,’ said Oats. ‘Let’s get her under cover, at least. . .’
‘Oh . . . yes . . . of course.’
Agnes took hold of Granny’s legs, and was amazed that someone so thin could be so heavy.
‘Perhaps there’d be someone in the village?’ said Oats, staggering under his end of the load.
‘Not a good idea,’ said Agnes.
‘Oh, but surely-‘
‘What would you say to them? “This is Granny, can we leave her here, oh, and when she wakes up she’ll be a vampire”?’
‘Ah.’
‘It’s not as though people are that happy to see her anyway, unless they’re ill . . .’
Agnes peered around through the rain.
‘Come on, let’s go round to the stables and the mews, there’s sheds and things. . .’
King Verence opened his eyes. Water was pouring down the window of his bedroom. There was no light but that which crept in under the door, and he could just make out the shapes of his two guards, nodding in their seats.
A windowpane tinkled. One of the Uberwaldians went and opened the window, looked out into the wild night, found nothing of interest and shuffled back to his seat.
Everything felt very . . . pleasant. It seemed to Verence that he was lying in a nice warm bath, which was very relaxing and comfortable. The cares of the world belonged to someone else. He bobbed like happy flotsam on the warm sea of life.
He could hear very faint voices, apparently coming from somewhere below his pillow.
‘Rikt, gi’ tae yon helan bigjobs?’
‘Ach, fashit keel!’
‘Hyup?’
‘Nach oona whiel ta’ tethra . . . yin, tan, TETRA!’
‘Hyup! Hyup!’
Something rustled on the floor. The chair of one man jerked up into the air and bobbed at speed to the window.
‘Hyup!’ The chair and its occupant crashed through the glass.
The other guard managed to get to his feet, but something was growing in the air in front of him. To Verence, an alumnus of the Fools’ Guild, it looked very much like a very tall human pyramid made up of very small acrobats.
‘Hup! Hup!’
‘Hyup!’
‘Hup!’
It grew level with the guard’s face. The single figure at the top yelled: ‘What ya lookin’ a’, chymie? Ha’ a wee tastie!’ and launched itself directly at a point between the man’s eyes. There was a little cracking noise, and the man keeled over backwards.
‘Hup! Hup!’
‘Hyup!’
The living pyramid dissolved to floor level. Verence heard tiny pattering feet and suddenly there was a small, heavily tattooed man in a blue pointy hat standing on his chin.
‘Seyou, kingie! Awa’ echt ta’ branoch, eh?’
‘Well done,’ Verence murmured. ‘How long have you been a hallucination? Jolly good.’
‘Ken ye na’ saggie, ye spargit?’
‘That’s the way,’ said Verence dreamily.
‘Auchtahelweit!’
‘Hyup! Hyup!’
Verence felt himself lifted off the bed. Hundreds of little hands passed him from one to the other and he was glided through the window and out into the void.
It was a sheer wall and, he told himself dreamily, he had no business drifting down it so slowly, to cries of ‘Ta ya! Ta me! Hyup!’ Tiny hands caught his collar, his nightshirt, his bedsocks . . .
‘Good show,’ he murmured, as he slid gently to the ground and then, six inches above ground level, was carried off into the night.
There was a light burning in the rain. Agnes hammered on the door, and the wet wood gave way to the slightly better vision of Hodgesaargh the falconer.
‘We’ve got to come in!’ she said.
‘Yes, Miss Nitt.’
He stood back obediently as they carried Granny into the little room.
‘She been hurt, miss?’
‘You do know there’s vampires in the castle?’ said Agnes.
‘Yes, miss?’ said Hodgesaargh. His voice suggested that he’d just been told a fact and he was waiting with polite interest to be told whether this was a good fact or a bad fact.
‘They bit Granny Weatherwax. We need to let her lie down somewhere.’
‘There’s my bed, miss.’
It was small and narrow, designed for people who went to bed because they were tired.
‘She might bleed on it a bit,’ said Agnes.
‘Oh, I bleed on it all the time,’ said Hodgesaargh cheerfully. ‘And on the floor. I’ve got any amount of bandages and ointment, if that will be any help.’
‘Well, it won’t do any harm,’ said Agnes. ‘Er . . . Hodgesaargh, you do know vampires suck people’s blood, do you?’
‘Yes, miss? They’ll have to queue up behind the birds for mine, then.’
‘It doesn’t worry you?’
‘Mrs Ogg made me a huge tub of ointment, miss.’
That seemed to be that. Provided they didn’t touch his birds, Hodgesaargh didn’t much mind who ran the castle. For hundreds of years the falconers had simply got on with the important things, like falconry, which needed a lot of training, and left the kinging to amateurs.
‘She’s soaking wet,’ said Oats. ‘At least let’s wrap her up in a blanket or something.’
‘And you’ll need some rope,’ said Agnes.
‘Rope?’
‘She’ll wake up.’
‘You mean . . . we ought to tie her up?’
‘If a vampire wants to turn you into a vampire, what happens?’
Oats’s hands clasped his turtle pendant for comfort as he tried to remember. ‘I . . . think they put something in the blood,’ he said. ‘I think if they want to turn you into a vampire you get turned. That’s all there is to it. I don’t think you can fight it when it’s in the blood. You can’t say you don’t want to join. I don’t think it’s a power you can resist.’
‘She’s good at resisting,’ said Agnes.
‘That good?’ said Oats.
One of the Uberwald people shuffled along the corridor. It stopped when it heard a sound, looked around, saw nothing that had apparently made a noise, and plodded on again.
Nanny Ogg stepped out of the shadows, and then beckoned Magrat to follow her.
‘Sorry, Nanny, it’s very hard to keep a baby quiet-‘
‘Shh! There’s quite a bit of noise coming from the kitchens. What could vampires want to cook?’
‘It’s those people they’ve brought with them,’ hissed Magrat. ‘They’ve been moving in new furniture. They’ve got to be fed, I suppose.’
‘Yeah, like cattle. I reckon our best bet is to walk out bold as brass,’ said Nanny. ‘These folk don’t look like they’re big on original thinkin’. Ready?’ She absentmindedly took a swig from the bottle she was carrying. ‘You just follow me.’
‘But look, what about Verence? I can’t just leave him. He’s my husband!’
‘What will they do to him that you could prevent if you was here?’ said Nanny. ‘Keep the baby safe, that’s the important thing. It always has been. Anyway . . . I told you, he’s got protection. I saw to that.’
‘What, magic?’
‘Much better’n that. Now, you just follow me and act snooty. You must’ve learned that, bein’ a queen. Never let ’em even think you haven’t got a right to be where you are.’
She strode out into the kitchen. The shabbily dressed people there gave her a dull-eyed look, like dogs waiting to see if a whipping was in prospect. On the huge stove, in place of Mrs Scorbic’s usual array of scoured-clean pots, was a large, blackened cauldron. The contents were a basic grey. Nanny wouldn’t have stirred it for a thousand dollars.