Witches Abroad (Discworld 12)

'I didn't get a wink of sleep all night,' said Granny reproachfully, 'what with her snoring.'

Nanny Ogg raised the covers cautiously.

'It's far too early in the morning for it to be early in the morning,' she said.

'Come on,' said Granny. 'We needs your skill with languages.'

The owner of the inn flapped his arms up and down and ran around in circles. Then he pointed at the castle that towered over the forest. Then he sucked vigorously at his wrist. Then he fell over on his back. And then he looked expectantly at Nanny Ogg, while behind him the bonfire of garlic and wooden stakes and heavy window shutters burned merrily.

'No,' said Nanny, after a while. 'Still non conprendy, mine hair.'

The man got up, and brushed some dust off his leather breeches.

'I think he's saying that someone's dead,' said Magrat. 'Someone in the castle.'

'Well, I must say, everyone seems very cheerful about it,' said Granny Weatherwax severely.

In the sunlight of the new day the village looked far more cheerful. Everyone kept nodding happily at the witches.

'That's because it was probably the landlord,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Bit of a bloodsucker, I think he's sayin'.'

'Ah. That'd be it, then.' Granny rubbed her hands together and looked approvingly at the breakfast table, which had been dragged out into the sunshine. 'Anyway, the food has certainly improved. Pass the bread, Magrat.'

'Everyone keeps smiling and waving at us,' said Magrat. 'And look at all this food!'

'That's only to be expected,' said Granny, with her mouth full. "They've only had us here one night and already they're learnin' it's lucky to be kind to witches. Now help me get the lid off this honey.'

Under the table, Greebo sat and washed himself. Occasionally he burped.

Vampires have risen from the dead, the grave and the crypt, but have never managed it from the cat.

Dear Jason and all at No. 21, No. 34, No. 15, No. 87 and No. 61 but not at No. 18 until she gives back the bowl she definitly borrowed whatever she says,

Well here we are, cor what a lark so far, dont arsk ME about pumkins, still, no harm done. Im drawin a picture of where we stayed larst night I have put an X on our room where our room is. The weather -

now I'm just going out to get some herbs,' she said.

They watched her as she went like a fat, determined arrow in the direction of the market place, which was right on the edge of the river. Then they ate the chicken legs.

Mrs Pleasant bustled among the market stalls; and she took great care to bustle. Even in Genua there were always people ready to tell a tale. Especially in Genua. She was a cook, so she bustled. And made sure she stayed fat and was, fortunately, naturally jolly. She made sure she had floury arms at all times. If she felt under suspicion, she'd say things like 'Lawks!' She seemed to be getting away with it so far.

She looked for the sign. And there it was. Perched up on die roof pole of a stall that was otherwise stacked with cages of hens, gazoots, Wheely cranes and other fowl, was a black cockerel. The voodoo doctor was In.

Even as her eye found it the cockerel's head turned to look at her.

Set a little way back from the rest of the stalls was a small tent, similar to many around the market. A cauldron bubbled in front of it on a charcoal fire. There were bowls beside it, and a ladle, and beside them a plate with coins on it. There were quite a lot of coins; people paid for Mrs Gogol's cooking whatever diey thought it was worth, and the plate was hardly big enough.

The thick liquid in the cauldron was an unappetizing brown. Mrs Pleasant helped herself to a bowlful, and waited. Mrs Gogol had certain talents.

After a while a voice from the tent said, 'What's new, Mrs Pleasant?'

'She's shut up the toymaker,' said Mrs Pleasant, to the air in general. 'And yesterday it was old Devereaux the innkeeper for not being fat and not having a big red face. That's four times this month.'

'You come in, Mrs Pleasant.'

It was dark and hot inside the tent. There was another fire in there, and another pot. Mrs Gogol was hunched over it, stirring. She motioned the cook to a pair of bellows.

'Blow up the coals a tad, and we'll see what's what,' she said.