The Shepherd's Crown (Discworld 41)

Nightshade nodded. ‘They will come through both those gates,’ she said. ‘And afterwards fan out.’ She shivered.

Tiffany was taking charge now. ‘Well, we’re going to need to face them on two fronts then. Here in Lancre, and over in the Chalk.’ She looked around the room. ‘We’ll have to split our forces.’

‘Well,’ said Nanny Ogg, ‘you can count on me. I’ve always been a fighter. You has to be a fighter to be a witch. We don’t have to worry – they does. If you can get an elf down and kick it about a bit, it’s not goin’ to be so glamorous as it was. Take it from me, even elves has soft parts which don’t like no boot in ’em.’

Tiffany glanced at Nanny’s boots. They looked as though they had been built by a blacksmith, and in Nanny’s case they probably had been. A kick from one of those and it would be ‘So long, elf!’ It might not kill them, but you could certainly say that all the glamour would have been kicked out.

‘They know where the stone circles are,’ she said, ‘but by Thunder and Lightning they had better keep away. After all, we know where the stones are as well, and we humans are clever, and we can sometimes be very nasty to boot. When we need to, I suspect.’ She turned to Nightshade, who had been watching everyone carefully. ‘What do you make of it, Nightshade?’

The elf smiled and said, ‘You humans are a strange people. Sometimes soft and

stupid, but also surprisingly dangerous. There are very few of you, and very many of the elves ranged against you. Yet I believe that traitor Peaseblossom has no idea what he will be facing. And I’m glad of that.’

Tiffany nodded. Magrat, Nanny Ogg, the surprisingly strong Mrs Earwig – there was more to Letice Earwig, she realized, than the occult jewellery and fancy outfits suggested – the other witches of Lancre, Mrs Proust, Geoffrey and Mephistopheles. It would have to do.

‘I think Lancre will be well served by you all,’ she said, looking around. ‘But I must go back to the Chalk. It’s my land.’

‘Who will you have to help you in the Chalk, may I ask?’ said Mrs Earwig.

‘Well,’ said Tiffany, ‘there’s Miss Tick – a formidable lady, as I am sure you will all agree, who sends her apologies for her absence today.’ Or would, she thought to herself, if I could have found her again. ‘Also Letitia.’ She looked at the young Baroness, who was trying to look brave. ‘And there’s the land itself, of course. But remember, I have some other admirable allies. We are not on our own.’ She had been keeping an eye on the pile of broomsticks by the door, and even though they hadn’t been invited she could see the face of Rob Anybody, and by the look of it a significant number of his clan. She laughed; they must have come up with Magrat and Letitia, she thought. ‘Ladies,’ she announced, ‘please allow me to introduce . . . the Nac Mac Feegles!’

There was a susurration amongst the witches as the room started to fill with a sea of blue skin and tartan – not all the witches had met the Feegles before. Tiffany heard Nanny Ogg whisper not quite quietly enough to Queen Magrat, ‘Put anythin’ drinkable in the cellar.’

‘Ach, ye are a cruel hag, so ye are, or my name isnae Rob Anybody,’ Rob moaned.

Magrat laughed. ‘Rob Anybody, you are a war all by yourself, man! Welcome to the palace but please don’t drink everything. At least, not until we have won the war.’

‘Now ye are talking, lassie – I mean, your queenship. Where there’s a war there’s a Nac Mac Feegle.’

There was a barrage of cries of ‘Crivens’ from the clan and Rob Anybody shouted, ‘Aye, get ’em doon, and the kickin’ starts.’ There was another cheer then and Big Yan jumped up and shouted, ‘Ye will need to tak’ note, ye weans. We dinnae say yes tae Mister Finesse, but we jes’ kick ’em.’

Hamish added, ‘Whan Morag swoops doon on top o’ ’em, her beak ’n’ talons’ll tak’ their breath awa’. And she’s a heavy girl.’

‘Be happy that they are on our side,’ Tiffany said. She looked reprovingly at Mrs Earwig, who had a snooty look on her face. ‘It’s true that they are rough diamonds, but no better warriors can be found anywhere on the Disc.’ And she hoped that Mrs Earwig didn’t hear the mumbling:

Daft Wullie. ‘What’s this? Did we stole any diamonds?’

‘It’s a manner of speaking, ye daftie.’ Rob Anybody.

‘But we got no manners. We treasure the fact, ye ken.’ Wullie, again.

‘It’s an idiom.’

‘Who’re you calling an idiom?’

Tiffany laughed to herself. It appeared that the kelda had been seeing to the clan’s range of expressions.

Rob waved his claymore in the air, making one or two witches retreat a step or two, and then he leaped up onto a table and glared down the hall. ‘Weel, I see the Lady Nightshade is with us the noo,’ he said. ‘Ach, the big wee hag and the kelda seem tae think that we shouldnae do anything aboot this elf – we are tae leave her alone. Although,’ he continued, looking at Nightshade, ‘we’ll be watching her carefully, verra carefully indeed. Oor kelda is soft, oor kelda, as soft as stone, ye ken – she is nae one to let a body break their troth and get away wi’ it!’

‘Dear sir, Mister Feegle,’ said Mrs Earwig. ‘This is a council of war, so we should be discussing strategies and tactics.’

‘Ah weel, ye can if ye wish, but we are Feegles and we dinnae mess about wi’ things like that. It’s all aboot usin’ yon claymore to best offence. And if ye dinnae get that right, your last resort is to nut ’em.’

Tiffany took in Mrs Earwig’s face and said cheerfully, ‘Could you do that, Mrs Earwig?’

She was given a Look, and Mrs Earwig said, ‘I will nut as I see fit.’ And to Tiffany’s surprise, the other witches applauded, and for once Mrs Earwig was wreathed in smiles.

‘I tell ye, I would nae cross yon carlin,’ said Rob Anybody.