Nanny obediently turned the broomstick, brushing the canyon walls as she did so.
'It's still miles to go,' she said.
'I mean to do it,' said Granny. 'There's plenty of night left.'
'Not enough, I'm thinking.'
'A witch doesn't know the meaning of the word “failure”. Gytha.'
They shot up into the clear air again. The horizon was a line of golden light as the slow dawn of the Disc sped across the land, bulldozing the suburbs of the night.
'Esme?' said Nanny Ogg, after a while.
'What?'
'It means “lack of success”.'
They flew in chilly silence for several seconds.
'I was speaking wossname. Figuratively,' said Granny.
'Oh. Well. You should of said.'
The line of light was bigger, brighter. For the first time a flicker of doubt invaded Granny Weatherwax's mind, puzzled to find itself in such unfamiliar surroundings.
'I wonder how many cockerels there are in Lancre?' she said quietly.
'Was that one of them wossname questions?'
'I was just wondering.'
Nanny Ogg sat back. There were thirty-two of crowing age, she knew. She knew because she'd worked it out last night – tonight - and had given Jason his instructions. She had fifteen grown-up children and innumerable grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and they'd had most of the evening to get into position. It should be enough.
'Did you hear that?' said Granny. 'Over Razorback way?'
Nanny looked innocently across the misty landscape. Sound travelled very clearly in these early hours.
'What?' she said.
'Sort of an “urk” noise?'
'No.'
Granny spun around.
'Over there,' she said. 'I definitely heard it this time. Something like “cock-a-doo-arrgh”.'
'Can't say I did, Esme,' said Nanny, smiling at the sky. 'Lancre Bridge up ahead.'
'And over there! Right down there! It was a definite squawk!'
'Dawn chorus, Esme, I expect. Look, only half a mile to go.'
Granny glared at the back of her colleague's head.
'There's something going on here,' she said.
'Search me, Esme.'