"'Go for the Throat",' said Nanny. 'You know what our king has done, so we can play our part in this new changin' world order thing and get money for hedges because Klatch gets a nosebleed when Ankh-Morpork stubs its toe? He's gone an' invited some bigwigs from Uberwald, that's what he's done. Oh, deary deary me. Vampires and werewolves, werewolves and vampires. We'll all be murdered in one another's beds.' She walked up to the front of the coach and tapped on the wood near the driver, who was sitting hunched up in an enormous cloak. 'Where're you from, Igor?'
The shadowy figure turned.
'What maketh you think my name ith... Igor?'
'Lucky guess?' said Nanny.
'You think everyone from Uberwald ith called Igor, do you? I could have any one of a thouthand different nameth, woman.' Ogg asked the Muntab question. 'Where the hell's Muntab?' she said.
'Several thousand miles away, Mrs Ogg. But it has ambitions Hubwards, and if there's war with Borogravia we will certainly have to adopt a position.'
'This one several thousand miles away looks fine by me,' said Nanny. 'And I don't see-'
'I'm afraid you don't,' said Verence. 'Nor should you have to. But affairs in distant countries can suddenly end up close to home. If Klatch sneezes, Ankh-Morpork catches a cold. We have to pay attention. Are we always to be part of the Ankh-Morpork hegemony? Are we not in a unique position as we reach the end of the Century of the Fruitbat? The countries widdershins of the Ramtops are beginning to make themselves felt. The "werewolf economies", as the Patrician in Ankh-Morpork calls them. New powers are emerging. Old countries are blinking in the sunlight of the dawning millennium. And of course we have to maintain friendships with all blocs. And so on. Despite a turbulent past, Omnia is a friendly country... or, at least,' he admitted, 'I'm sure they would be friendly if they knew about Lancre. Being unpleasant to the priests of its state religion will serve us no good purpose. I'm sure we will not regret it.'
'Let's hope we won't,' said Nanny. She gave Verence a withering look. 'And I remember you when you were just a man in a funny hat.'
Even this didn't work. Verence merely sighed again and turned towards the door.
'I still am, Nanny,' he said. 'It's just that this one's a lot heavier. And now I must go, otherwise we shall be keeping our guests waiting. Ah, Shawn...'
Shawn Ogg had appeared at the door. He saluted.
'How's the army coming along, Shawn?'
'I've nearly finished the knife, sir.[6] Just got to do the nose-hair tweezers and the folding saw, sir. But actually I'm here as herald at the moment, sir.'
'Ah, it must be time.' `
'Yes, sir.'
'A shorter fanfare this time, Shawn, I think,' said the King. 'While I personally appreciate your skill, an occasion like this calls for something a little simpler than several bars of "Pink Hedgehog Rag".'
'Yes, Sir.'
'Let us go, then.'
They went out into the main passage just as Magrat's group was passing, and the King took her hand.
Nanny Ogg trailed after them. The King was right, in a way. She did feel... unusual, ill-tempered and snappish, as if she'd put on a vest that was too tight. Well, Granny would be here soon enough, and she knew how to talk to kings.
You needed a special technique for that, Nanny reasoned; for example, you couldn't say things like 'Who died and made you King?', because they'd know. 'You and whose army?' was another difficult one, although in this case Verence's army consisted of Shawn and a troll and was unlikely to be a serious threat to Shawn's own mother if he wanted to be allowed to eat his tea indoors.
She pulled Agnes to one side as the procession reached the top of the big staircase and Shawn went on ahead.
'We'll get a good view from the minstrel gallery,' she hissed, dragging Agnes into the king oak structure just as the trumpet began the royal fanfare.
'That's my boy,' she added proudly, when the final flourish caused a stir.
'Yes, not many royal fanfares end with "shave and a haircut, no legs"[7],' said Agnes.
'Puts people at their ease, though,' said Shawn's loyal mum.
Agnes looked down at the throng and caught sight of the priest again. He was moving through the press of guests.
'I found him, Nanny,' she said. 'He didn't make it hard, I must say. He won't try anything in a crowd, will he?'
'Which one is it?'