'Yes.'
'Why?'
'Because if I didn't, what use am I? What use am I anyway?'
'I don't think we'd survive a second time,' said Agnes. 'They let us go this time because it was the cruel thing to do. Dang! I've got to decide what to do now, and it shouldn't be me. I'm the maiden, for goodness' sake!' She saw his expression and added, for reasons she'd find hard to explain at the moment, 'A technical term for the junior member of a trio of witches. I shouldn't have to decide things. Yes, I know it's better than making the tea!'
'Br... I didn't say anything about making the tea-'
'No, sorry, that was someone else. What is it she wants me to do?'
Especially since now you think you know where she's hiding, said Perdita.
There was a creak, and they heard the hall doors open. Light spilled out, shadows danced in the mist raised by the driving rain, there was a splash and the doors shut again. As they closed, there was the sound of laughter.
Agnes hurried to the bottom of the steps, with the priest squelching along beside her.
There was already a wide and muddy puddle at this end of the courtyard. Granny Weatherwax lay in it, her dress torn, her hair uncoiling from its rock-hard bun.
There was blood on her neck.
'They didn't even lock her in a cell or something,' said Agnes, steaming with rage. 'They just threw her like... like a meat bone!'
'I suppose they think she is locked up now, the poor soul,' said Oats. 'Let's get her under cover, at least...'
'Oh... yes... of course.'
Agnes took hold of Granny's legs, and was amazed that someone so thin could be so heavy.
'Perhaps there'd be someone in the village?' said Oats, staggering under his end of the load.
'Not a good idea,' said Agnes.
'Oh, but surely-'
'What would you say to them? "This is Granny, can we leave her here, oh, and when she wakes up she'll be a vampire"?'
'Ah.'
'It's not as though people are that happy to see her anyway, unless they're ill...'
Agnes peered around through the rain.
'Come on, let's go round to the stables and the mews, there's sheds and things...'
King Verence opened his eyes. Water was pouring down the window of his bedroom. There was no light but that which crept in under the door, and he could just make out the shapes of his two guards, nodding in their seats.
A windowpane tinkled. One of the Uberwaldians went and opened the window, looked out into the wild night, found nothing of interest and shuffled back to his seat.
Everything felt very... pleasant. It seemed to Verence that he was lying in a nice warm bath, which was very relaxing and comfortable. The cares of the world belonged to someone else. He bobbed like happy flotsam on the warm sea of life.
He could hear very faint voices, apparently coming from somewhere below his pillow.
'Rikt, gi' tae yon helan bigjobs?'
'Ach, fashit keel!'
'Hyup?'