“The thing about elves is they've got no . . . begins with m,” Granny snapped her fingers irritably.
“Manners?”
“Hah! Right, but no.”
“Muscle? Mucus? Mystery?”
“No. No. No. Means like . . . seein' the other person's point of view.”
Verence tried to see the world from a Granny Weatherwax perspective, and suspicion dawned.
“Empathy?”
“Right. None at all. Even a hunter, a good hunter, can feel for the quarry. That's what makes 'em a good hunter. Elves aren't like that. They're cruel for fun, and they can't understand things like mercy. They can't understand that anything apart from themselves might have feelings. They laugh a lot, especially if they've caught a lonely human or a dwarf or a troll. Trolls might be made out of rock, your majesty, but I'm telling you that a troll is your brother compared to elves. In the head, I mean.”
“But why don't I know all this?”
“Glamour. Elves are beautiful. They've got,” she spat the word, “style. Beauty. Grace. That's what matters. If cats looked like frogs we'd realize what nasty, cruel little bastards they are. Style. That's what people remember. They remember the glamour. All the rest of it, all the truth of it, becomes . . . old wives' tales.”
“Magrat's never said anything about them.”
Granny hesitated.
“Magrat doesn't know too much about elves,” she said. “Hah. She ain't even a young wife yet. They're not something that gets talked about a lot these days. It's not good to talk about them. It's better if everyone forgets about them. They . . . come when they're called. Not called like 'Cooee.' Called inside people's heads. It's enough for people just to want them to be here.”
Verence waved his hands in the air.
“I'm still learning about monarchy,” he said. “I don't understand this stuff.”
“You don't have to understand. You're a king. Listen. You know about weak places in the world? Where it joins other worlds?”
“No.”
“There's one up on the moor. That's why the Dancers were put up around it. They're a kind of wall.”
“But sometimes the barriers between worlds is weaker, see? Like tides. At circle time.”
“Ah.”
“And if people act stupidly then, even the Dancers can't keep the gateway shut. 'Cos where the world's thin, even the wrong thought can make the link.”
“Ah.”
Verence felt the conversation had orbited back to that area where he could make a contribution.
“Stupidly?” he said.
“Calling them. Attracting them.”
“Ah. So what do I do?”
“Just go on reigning. I think we're safe. They can't get through. I've stopped the girls, so there'll be no more channeling. You keep this one firmly under lock and key, and don't tell Magrat. No sense in worrying her, is there? Something came through, but I'm keeping an eye on it.”
Granny rubbed her hands together in grim satisfaction.
“I think I've got it sorted,” she said.
She blinked.