'Oh... thit,' he said, and folded up. Oats appeared, face aglow with adrenaline and righteousness.
'I smote him mightily!'
'Good, good, let's get out of here! Help me up!'
'My wrath descended upon him like-'
'It was a heavy lid and he's not that young,' said Agnes. 'Look, I used to play down here, I know how to get to the back stairs-'
'He's not a vampire? He looks like one. First time I've ever seen a patchwork man...'
'He's a servant. Now, please come-' Agnes paused. 'Can you make holy water?'
'What, here?'
'I mean bless it, or dedicate it to Om, or... boil the hell out of it, perhaps,' said Agnes.
'There is a small ceremony I can-' He stopped. 'That's right! Vampires can be stopped by holy water!'
'Good. We'll go via the kitchens, then.'
The huge kitchens were almost empty. They never bustled these days, since the royal couple were not the sort who demanded three meat courses with every meal, and at the moment there was only Mrs Scorbic the cook in there, calmly rolling out pastry.
'Afternoon, Mrs Scorbic,' said Agnes, deciding the best course was to march past and rely on the authority of the pointy hat. 'We've just dropped in for some water, don't worry, I know where the pump is, but if you've got a couple of empty bottles that would be helpful.'
'That's right, dear,' said Mrs Scorbic.
Agnes stopped and turned.
Mrs Scorbic was famously acerbic, especially on the subject of soya, nut cutlets, vegetarian meals and any vegetable that couldn't be boiled until it was yellow. Even the King hesitated to set foot in her kitchen but, whereas he only got an angry silence, lesser mortals got the full force of her generalized wrath. Mrs Scorbic was permanently angry, in the same way that mountains are permanently large.
Today she was wearing a white dress, a white apron, a big white mob cap and a white bandage around her throat. She also looked, for want of any better word, happy.
Agnes urgently waved Oats towards the pump. 'Find something to fill up,' she hissed, and then said brightly, 'How are you feeling, Mrs Scorbic?'
'All the better for you asking, miss.'
'I expect you're busy with all these visitors?'
'Yes, miss.'
Agnes coughed. 'And, er, what did you give them for breakfast?'
The cook's huge pink brow wrinkled. 'Can't remember, miss.'
'Well done.'
Oats nudged her. 'I've filled up a couple of empty bottles and I said the Purification Rite of Om over them.'
'And that will work?'
'You must have faith.'
The cook was watching them amiably.
'Thank you, Mrs Scorbic,' said Agnes. 'Please get on with... whatever you were doing.'
'Yes, miss.' The cook turned back to her rolling pin.