“Yes, but you've got to-”
“Right now!”
“Oooaaaww, Mum!”
Magrat tried to keep up with Nanny as she scurried through the castle.
“The wizard was right. She was dead, you know. I don't blame you for hoping, but I can tell when people are dead.”
“No, you can't. I remember a few years ago you came running down to my house in tears and it turned out she was just off Borrowing. That's when she started using the sign.”
“But-”
“She wasn't sure what was going to happen,” said Nanny. “That's good enough for me.”
“Nanny-”
“You never know until you look,” said Nanny Ogg, expounding her own Uncertainty Principle.
Nanny kicked open the doors to the Great Hall.
“What's all this?”
Ridcully got up from his chair, looking embarrassed.
“Well, it didn't seem right to leave her all alone-”
“Oh dear, oh dear,” said Nanny, gazing at the solemn tableau.
“Candles and lilies. I bet you pinched 'em yourself, out of the garden. And then you all shut her away indoors like this.”
“Well-”
"And no one even thought to leave a damn window
open! Can't you hear them?"
“Hear what?” Nanny looked around hurriedly and picked up a silver candlestick. “No!”
Magrat snatched it out of her hand. “This happens to be,” winding her arm back, “very nearly,” taking aim, “my castle-”
The candlestick flew up, turning end over end, and hit a big stained glass window right in the centre.
Fresh sunlight extruded down to the table, visibly moving in the Disc's slow magical field. And down it, like marbles down a chute, the bees cascaded.
The swarm settled on the witch's head, giving the impression of a very dangerous wig.
“What did you-” Ridcully began.
“She's going to swank about this for weeks,” said Nanny. “No one's ever done it with bees. Their mind's everywhere, see? Not just in one bee. In the whole swarm.”
“What are you-”
Granny Weatherwax's fingers twitched.
Her eyes flickered. Very slowly, she sat up. She focused on Magrat and
Nanny Ogg with some difficulty, and said: