'Oh, blast, it's one of the bloody hangers-on,' said Nanny. 'He's between us and the door...'
'Ladies!' said the vampire, bowing. 'May I be of assistance?'
'We were just leaving,' said Magrat haughtily.
'Possibly not,' said the vampire.
' 'scuse me, young man,' said Nanny, in her soft old biddy voice, 'but where are you from?'
'Uberwald, madam.'
Nanny nodded and referred to a piece of paper she'd pulled out of her pocket. 'That's nice. What part?'
'Klotz.'
'Really? That's nice. 'scuse me.' She turned her back and there was a brief twanging of elastic before she turned round again, all smiles.
'I just likes to take an interest in people,' she said. 'Klotz, eh? What's the name of that river there? The Um? The Eh?'
'The Ah,' said the vampire.
Nanny's hand shot forward and wedged something yellow between the vampire's teeth. He grabbed her but, as she was dragged forward, she hit him on the top of the head.
He fell to his knees, clutching at his mouth and trying to scream through the lemon he'd just bitten into.
'Seems an odd superstition, but there you are,' said Nanny, as he started to foam around the lips.
'You have to cut their heads off, too,' said Magrat.
'Really? Well, I saw a cleaver back there-'
'Shall we just go?' Magrat suggested. 'Before someone else comes, perhaps?'
'All right. He's not a high-up vampire, anyway,' said Nanny dismissively. 'He's not even wearing a very interestin' waistcoat.'
The night was silver with rain. Heads down, the witches dashed through the murk.
'I've got to change the baby!'
'For a raincoat'd be favourite,' muttered Nanny. 'Now?'
'It's a bit urgent...'
'All right, then, in here...'
They ducked into the stables. Nanny peered back into the night and shut the door quietly.
'It's very dark,' whispered Magrat.
'I could always change babies by feel when I was young.'
'I'd prefer not to have to. Hey... there's a light...'
The weak glow of a candle was just visible at the far end of the loose boxes.
Igor was brushing the horses until they shone. His muttering kept time with the strokes of the brush. Something seemed to be on his mind.
'Thilly voithe, eh? Thilly walk? What the hell doth he know? Jumped-up whipper-thnapper! Igor thtop thith, Igor thtop that... all thethe kidth thwanning around, trying to puth me around... there'th a covenant in thethe thingth. The old marthter knew that! A thervant ith not a thlave...'