“As I recall,” she said, “its back legs go like this but its front legs go like this.”
“No, no, no,” said Quamey the storekeeper. “It's its tail that goes like that. Its legs go like this.”
“That's not reciprocating, that's just oscillating,” said someone. “You're thinking of the Ring-tailed Ocelot.”
Nanny nodded.
“That's settled, then,” she said.
“Hold on, I'm not sure-”
“Yes, Mr. Quamey?”
“Oh . . . well. . .”
“Good, good,” said Nanny, as Shawn reappeared. “They was just saying, our Shawn, how they was swayed by your speech. Really pussiked up.”
“Cor!”
“They're ready to follow you into the jaws of hell itself, I expect,” said Nanny.
Someone put up their hand.
“Are you coming too, Mrs. Ogg?”
ibrarian flared his nostrils.
Magrat didn't know much about jungles, but she thought about apes in trees, smelling the rank of the tiger. Apes never admired the sleek of the fur and the bum of the eye, because they were too well aware of the teeth of the
mouth.
“Yes,” she said, “I expect they would. Dwarfs and trolls hate them, too. But I think they don't hate them as much as I do.”
“You can't fight them all,” said Ponder. “They're swarming like bees up there. There's flying ones, too. The Librarian says they made people get fallen trees and things and push those, you know, those stones down? There were some stones on the hill. They attacked them. Don't know why.”
“Did you see any witches at the Entertainment?” said Magrat.
“Witches, witches . . .” muttered Ponder.
“You couldn't have missed them,” said Magrat. “There'd be a thin one glaring at everyone and a small fat one cracking nuts and laughing a lot. And they'd be talking to each other very loudly. And they'd both have tall pointy hats.”
“Can't say I noticed them,” said Ponder.
“Then they couldn't have been there,” said Magrat. “Being noticed is what being a witch is all about.” She was about to add that she'd never been good at it, but didn't. Instead she said: “I'm going on up there.”
“You'll need an army, miss. I mean, you'd have been in trouble just now if the Librarian hadn't been up in the trees.”
“But I haven't got an army. So I'm going to have to try by myself, aren't I?”
This time Magrat managed to spur the horse into a gallop.
Ponder watched her go.
“You know, folksongs have got a lot to answer for,” he said to the night air.
“Oook.”
“She's going to get utterly killed.”