'Lock up a witch, would he?' Granny shouted at the trees.
Nanny struggled to her feet.
'We'd better grab her,' she whispered to Magrat. The two of them leapt at Granny and forced her arms down to her sides.
'I'll bloody well show him what a witch could do!' she yelled.
'Yes, yes, very good, very good,' said Nanny. 'Only perhaps not just now and not just like this, eh?'
'Wyrd sisters, indeed!' Granny yelled. 'I'll make his—'
'Hold her a minute, Magrat,' said Nanny Ogg, and rolled up her sleeve.
'It can be like this with the highly-trained ones,' she said, and brought her palm round in a slap that lifted both witches off their feet. On such a flat, final note the universe ought have ended.
At the conclusion of the breathless silence which followed Granny Weatherwax said, 'Thank you.'
She adjusted her dress with some show of dignity, and added, 'But I meant it. We'll meet tonight at the stone and do what must be done. Ahem.'
She reset the pins in her hat and set off unsteadily in the direction of her cottage.
'Whatever happened to the rule about not meddling in politics?' said Magrat, watching her retreating back.
Nanny Ogg massaged some life back into her fingers.
'By Hoki, that woman's got a jaw like an anvil,' she said 'What was that?'
'I said, what about this rule about not meddling?' said Magrat.
'Ah,' said Nanny. She took the girl's arm. 'The thing is,' she explained, 'as you progress in the Craft, you'll learn there is another rule. Esme's obeyed it all her life.'
'And what's that?'
'When you break rules, break 'em good and hard,' said Nanny, and grinned a set of gums that were more menacing than teeth.
The duke smiled out over the forest.
'It works,' he said. 'The people mutter against the witches. How do you do it, Fool?'
'Jokes, nuncle. And gossip. People are halfway ready to believe it anyway. Everyone respects the witches. The point is that no-one actually likes them very much.'
Friday afternoon, he thought. I'll have to get some flowers. And my best suit, the one with the silver bells. Oh gosh.
'This is very pleasing. If it goes on like this, Fool, you shall have a knighthood.'
This was no.302, and the Fool knew better than to let a feed line go hungry. 'Marry, nuncle,' he said wearily, ignoring the spasm of pain that crawled across the duke's face, 'if n I had a Knighthood (Night Hood), why, it would keep my ears Warm in Bedde; i'faith, if many a Knight is a Fool, why, should a—'
'Yes, yes, all right,' snapped Lord Felmet. In fact he was feeling much better already. His porridge hadn't been oversalted this evening, and there was a decently empty feel about the castle. There were no more voices on the cusp of hearing.
He sat down on the throne. It felt really comfortable for the first time . . .
The duchess sat beside him, her chin on her hand, watching the Fool intently. This bothered him. He thought he knew where he stood with the duke, it was just a matter of hanging on until his madness curved back to the cheerful stage, but the duchess genuinely frightened him.
'It seems that words are extremely powerful,' she said.
'Indeed, lady.'
'You must have made a lengthy study.'