'Just as you like,' said Granny, pushing the spear aside.
'Listen, I said—' the guard began, and grabbed Granny's shoulder. Her hand moved so quickly it hardly seemed to move at all, but suddenly he was clutching at his arm and moaning.
Granny replaced the hatpin in her hat and ran for it.
'We will begin,' said the duchess, leering, 'with the Showing of the Implements.'
'Seen 'em,', said Nanny. 'Leastways, all the ones beginning with P, S, I, T and W.'
'Then let us see how long you can keep that light conversational tone. Light the brazier, Felmet,' snapped the duchess.
'Light the brazier, Fool,' said the duke.
The Fool moved slowly. He hadn't expected any of this. Torturing people hadn't been on his mental agenda. Hurting old ladies in cold blood wasn't his cup of tea, and actually hurting witches in blood of any temperature whatsoever failed to be an entire twelve-course banquet. Words, he'd said. All this probably came under the heading of sticks and stones.
'I don't like doing this,' he murmured under his breath.
'Fine,' said Nanny Ogg, whose hearing was superb. 'I'll remember that you didn't like it.'
ppose you're no good at locks?'
'I fear they would be beyond my capabilities as yet . . . but surely—' the ghost of the king waved a hand in a vague gesture which encompassed the dungeon, Nanny and the manacles – 'to a witch all this is just so much—'
'Solid iron,' said Nanny. 'You might be able to walk through it, but I can't.'
'I didn't realise,' said Verence. 'I thought witches could do magic.'
'Young man,' said Nanny, 'you will oblige me by shutting up.'
'Madam! I am a king!'
'You are also dead, so I wouldn't aspire to hold any opinions if I was you. Now just be quiet and wait, like a good boy.'
Against all his instincts, the king found himself obeying. There was no gainsaying that tone of voice. It spoke to him across the years, from his days in the nursery. Its echoes told him that if he didn't eat it all up he would be sent straight to bed.
Nanny Ogg stirred in her chains. She hoped they would turn up soon.
'Er,' said the king uneasily. 'I feel I owe you an explanation . . .'
'Thank you,' said Granny Weatherwax, and because Shawn seemed to be expecting it, added, 'You've been a good boy.'
'Yes'm,' said Shawn. 'M'm?'
'Was there something else?'
Shawn twisted the end of his chain-mail vest out of embarrassment. 'It's not true what everyone's been saying about our mam, is it, m'm?' he said. 'She doesn't go round putting evil curses on folk. Except for Daviss the butcher. And old Cakebread, after he kicked her cat. But they wasn't what you'd call real curses, was they, m'm?'
'You can stop calling me m'm.'
'Yes, m'm.'
'They've been saying that, have they?'
'Yes, m'm.'
'Well, your mam does upset people sometimes.'
Shawn hopped from one leg to another.