'That line about crushing infidels?'
'That's the one, yes.'
'You sung it anyway, though.'
'It's the version my grandmother taught me,' said oats.
'She was keen on crushing infidels?'
'Well, mainly I think she was in favour of crushing Mrs Ahrim next door, but you've got the right idea, yes. She thought the world would be a better place with a bit more crushing and smiting.'
'Prob'ly true.'
'Not as much smiting and crushing as she'd like, though, I think,' said Oats. 'A bit judgemental, my grandmother.'
'Nothing wrong with that. Judging is human.'
'We prefer to leave it ultimately to Om,' said Oats and, out here in the dark, that statement sounded lost and all alone.
'Bein' human means judgin' all the time,' said the voice behind him. 'This and that, good and bad, making choices every day... that's human.'
'And are you so sure you make the right decisions?'
'No. But I do the best I can.'
'And hope for mercy, eh?'
A bony finger prodded him in the back.
'Mercy's a fine thing, but judgin' comes first. Otherwise you don't know what you're bein' merciful about. Anyway, I always heard you Omnians were keen on smitin' and crushin'.'
'Those were... different days. We use crushing arguments now.'
'And long pointed debates, I suppose?'
'Well, there are two sides to every question...'
'What do you do when one of 'em's wrong?'
The reply came back like an arrow.
'I meant that we are enjoined to see things from the other person's point of view,' said Oats patiently.
'You mean that from the point of view of a torturer, torture is all right?'
'Mistress Weatherwax, you are a natural disputant.'
'No, I ain't!'
'You'd certainly enjoy yourself at the Synod, anyway. They've been known to argue for days about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin.'
He could almost feel Granny's mind working. At last she said, 'What size pin?'
'I don't know that, I'm afraid.'
'Well, if it's a ordinary household pin, then there'll be sixteen.'
'Sixteen angels?'