“You will never get him back,” said the elf. “She has him.”
“We shall see,” said Magrat. “All right, Shawn. What shall we do with it?”
In the end they dragged it into a storeroom next to the dungeon and manacled it to the bars of the window. It was still whimpering at the touch of the iron as Magrat slammed the door.
Shawn was trying to keep at a respectful distance. It was the way Magrat kept smiling all the time.
“Now let's have a look at that arm of yours,” she said.
“I'm all right,” said Shawn, “but they stabbed Diamanda in the kitchen.”
“Was it her I heard screaming?”
“Uh. Partly. Uh.” Shawn stared down in fascination at the dead elves as Magrat stepped over them.
“You killed them,” he said.
“Did I do it wrong?”
“Um. No,” said Shawn cautiously. “No, you did it . . . quite well, really.”
“And there's one in the pit,” said Magrat. “You know . . . the pit. What day is it?”
“Tuesday.”
“And you clean it out on . . . ?”
“Wednesdays. Only I missed last Wednesday because I had-”
“Then we probably don't need to worry about it. Are there anymore around?”
“I. . . don't think so. Uh. Miss Queen?”
“Yes, Shawn?”
“Could you put the axe down, please? I'd feel a lot better if you put the axe down. The axe. Miss Queen. You keep swinging it about. It could go off at any second.”
“What axe?”
“The one you're holding.”
“Oh, this axe.” Magrat appeared to notice it for the first time. “That arm looks bad. Let's get down to the kitchen and I'll splint it. Those fingers don't look good, either. Did they kill Diamanda?”
“I don't know. And I don't know why. I mean, she was helping them.”
“Yes. Wait a moment.” Magrat disappeared one more time into the armoury, and came back carrying a sack. “Come on. Greebo!”
Greebo gave her a sly look, and stopped washing himself.
“D'you know a funny thing about Lancre?” said Magrat, as they sidled down the stairs.
“What's that, miss?”
“We never throw anything away. And you know another thing?”
“No, miss.”
"They couldn't have painted her from life, of course. I mean, people didn't paint portraits in those days. But the armour . . . hah! All they had to do was look. And you know