'Well... Greebo's frightened of 'em,' said Nanny.

Greebo was two worried eyes, one yellow, one pearly white, in the shadows. The witches were impressed. Greebo had once brought down an elk. There was practically nothing that he wouldn't attack, including architecture.

'I'd have thought they'd have no trouble with vampires, then,' said Agnes.

'Ach, c'na flitty-flitty! Ye think we're flowers o' the forest fairies?' sneered a blue man.

'They can't fly,' said Nanny.

'It's quite a nice island, even so...' Magrat mumbled.

'Gel, your husband was messin' around with politics, which is why we're in this trouble, and to get you've got to give. Now he's ill and you're Queen so you can do as you like, right? There's no one who can tell you what to do, isn't that so?'

'Yes, I suppos-'

'So damn well give 'em the island and then they've got somethin' here to fight for. Otherwise they'll just push on through anyway and nick all our livestock on the way. Dress that up in fancy talk, and you've got politics.'

'Nanny?' said Agnes.

'Yup?'

'Don't get angry, but you don't think Granny's doing this on purpose, do you? Keeping back, I mean, so that we have to form a three and work together?'

'Why'd she do that?'

'So we develop insights and pull together and learn valuable lessons,' said Magrat.

Nanny paused with her pipe halfway to her lips. 'No,' she said, 'I don't reckon Granny'd be thinking like that, because that's soppy garbage. Here, you blokes... here's the key to the drinks cupboard in the scullery. Bugger off and have fun, don't touch the stuff in the green bottles because it's- Oh, I expect you'll be all right.'

There was a blue blur, and the room was cleared.

'We got things Granny ain't got,' said Nanny.

'Yes?' said Agnes.

'Magrat's got a baby. I've got no scruples. And we've both got you.'

'What good will I be?'

'Well, for one thing... you're in two minds about everything-'

There was a tinkle of glass from the scullery, and a scream of 'Ach, ya skivens! Yez lukin' at a faceful o' heid!'

'Crives! Sezu? Helweit! Summun hol' me cote! Gude! Now, summun hol' his arms!'

'Stitch this, f'ra ma brinnit goggel!' Some more glass broke.

'We'll all go back into the castle,' said Nanny. 'On our terms. Face this count down. And we'll take garlic and lemons and all the other stuff. And some of Mr Oats's holy water. You can't tell me all that stuff together won't work.'

'And they'll let us in, will they?' said Agnes.

'They'll have a lot to think about,' said Nanny. 'What with a mob at the gates. We can nip in round the back.'

'What mob?' said Magrat.

'We'll organize one,' said Nanny.

'You don't organize a mob, Nanny,' said Agnes. 'A mob is something that happens spontaneously.'

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net