'Perhaps there's so much niceness to be spread around they need a lot of people to do it,' said Nanny Ogg.
The witches wandered through the packed streets.
'Nice houses, though,' said Magrat. 'Very decorative and olde-worlde.'
Granny Weatherwax, who lived in a cottage that was as olde-worlde as it was possible to be without being a lump of metamorphic rock, made no comment.
Nanny Ogg's feet started to complain.
'We ought to find somewhere to stop the night,' she said. 'We can look for this girl in the morning. We'll all do a lot better for a good night's sleep.'
'And a bath,' said Magrat. 'With soothing herbs.'
'Good idea. I could just go a bath too,' said Nanny.
'My word, doesn't autumn roll around quickly,' said Granny sourly.
'Yeah? When did you last have a bath, Esme?'
'What do you mean, last?
'See? Then there's no call to make comments about my ablutions.'
'Baths is unhygienic,' Granny declared. 'You know I've never agreed with baths. Sittin" around in your own dirt like that.'
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'What do you do, then?' said Magrat. 'I just washes,' said Granny. 'All the bits. You know. As and when they becomes available.'
However available they were, and no further information was vouchsafed on this point, they were certainly more available than accommodation in Genua in Fat Lunchtime.
All the taverns and inns were more than full. Gradually the press of crowds pushed them out of the main streets and into the less fashionable quarters of the city, but still there was no room for the three of them.
Granny Weatherwax had had enough.
'The very next place we see,' she said, setting her jaw firmly, 'we're goin' in. What's that inn over there?'
Nanny Ogg peered at the sign.
'Hotel . . . No ... Va ... cancies,' she muttered, and then brightened up. 'Hotel Nova Cancies,' she repeated. 'That means “new, er, Cancies” in foreign,' she added helpfully.
'It'll do,' said Granny.
She pushed open the door. A round, red-faced man looked up from the desk. He was new to the job and very nervous; the last incumbent had disappeared for not being round and red-faced enough.
Granny didn't waste time.
'You see this hat?' she demanded. 'You see this broom?'
The man looked from her to the broom, and back again.
'Yes?' he said. 'What's that mean?'
'Means we want three rooms for the night,' said Granny, looking smugly at the other two.
'With sausage,' said Nanny.
'And one vegetarian meal,' said Magrat.
The man looked at all three of them. Then he went over to the door.
'You see this door? You see this sign?' he said.
'We don't bother about signs,' said Granny.
'Well, then,' said the man, 'I give up. What's a pointy hat and a broom really mean?'
'That means I'm a witch,' said Granny.
The man put his head on one side.
'Yeah?' he said. 'Is that another word for daft old woman?'
Dear Jason and everyone, wrote Nanny Ogg, Dyou know, they dont know about witches here, thats how bakcward they are in foreign pans. -A man gave Esme some Cheek and she would of lost her Temper so me and Magrat and I got hold of her and rushed her out because if you make someone think they've been turned into something there's always trouble, you remember what happened larst time when afterwards you had to go and dig a pond for Mr Wilkins to live in . . .
They had managed to find a table to themselves in a tavern. It was packed with people of all species. The noise was at shouting level and smoke wreathed the air.
'Will you stop that scribbling, Gytha Ogg. It gets on my nerves,' snapped Granny.
'They must have witches here,' said Magrat. 'Everywhere has witches. You've got to have witches abroad. You find witches everywhere.'
'Like cockroaches,' said Nanny Ogg cheerfully.
'You should've let me make him believe he was a frog,' muttered Granny.
'You can't do that, Esme. You can't go around making people believe they're things just because they've been cheeky and don't know who you are,' said Gytha. 'Otherwise we'd be up to here in people hopping about.'
Despite many threats, Granny Weatherwax had never turned anyone into a frog. The way she saw it, there was a technically less cruel but cheaper and much more satisfying thing you could do. You could leave them human and make them think they were a frog, which also provided much innocent entertainment for passers-by.
'I always felt sorry for Mr Wilkins,' said Magrat, staring moodily at the table top. 'It was so sad watching him try to catch flies on his tongue.'
'He shouldn't have said what he said,' said Granny.
'What, that you were a domineering old busybody?' said Nanny innocently.
'I don't mind criticism,' said Granny. 'You know me. I've never been one to take offence at criticism. No-one could say I'm the sort to take offence at criticism - '
'Not twice, anyway,' said Nanny. 'Not without blowing bubbles.'
'It's just that I can't stand unfairness,' said Granny. 'And you stop that grinning! Anyway, I don't see why you're making a fuss about it. It wore off after a couple of days.'
'Mrs Wilkins says he still goes out swimming a lot,' said Magrat. 'It's given him a whole new interest, she said.'
'Perhaps they have a different kind of witch in the city,' said Magrat hopelessly. 'Perhaps they wear different sort of clothes.'
'There's only one kind of witch,' said Granny. 'And we're it.'
She looked around the room. Of course, she thought, if someone was keeping witches out, people wouldn't know about them. Someone who didn't want anyone else meddling here. But she let us in ...
'Oh, well, at least we're in the dry,' said Nanny. A drinker standing in a crowd behind her threw back his head to laugh and spilled beer down her back.
She muttered something under her breath.
Magrat saw the man look down to take another swig and stare, wide-eyed, into the mug. Then he dropped it and fought his way out of the room, clutching at his throat.
'What did you do to his drink?' she said.
'You ain't old enough to be tole,' said Nanny.
At home, if a witch wanted a table to herself it ... just happened. The sight of the pointy hat was enough. People kept a polite distance, occasionally sending free drinks to her. Even Magrat got respect, not particularly because anyone was in awe of her, but because a slight to one witch was a slight to all witches and no-one wanted Granny Weatherwax coming around to explain this to them. Here they were being jostled, as if they were ordinary. Only Nanny Ogg's warning hand on Granny Weatherwax's arm was keeping a dozen jovial drinkers from unnatural amphibianhood, and even Nanny's usually very elastic temper was beginning to twang. She always prided herself on being as ordinary as muck, but there was ordinary and there was ordinary. It was like being that Prince Whatsisname, in the nursery story, who liked to wander around his kingdom dressed up as a commoner; she'd always had a shrewd suspicion that the little pervert made sure people knew who he was beforehand, just in case anyone tried to get too common. It was like getting muddy. Getting muddy when you had a nice hot tub to look forward to was fun; getting muddy when all you had to look forward to was more mud was no fun at all. She reached a conclusion.
'Hey, why don't we have a drink?' said Nanny Ogg brightly. 'We'd all feel better for a drink.'
'Oh no,' said Granny. 'You caught me with that herbal drink last time. I'm sure there was alcohol in that. I def'nitely felt a bit woozy after the sixth glass. I ain't drinking any more foreign muck.'
'You've got to drink something,' said Magrat soothingly. 'I'm thirsty, anyway.' She looked vaguely at the crowded bar. 'Perhaps they do some kind of fruit cup, or something.'
'Bound to,' said Nanny Ogg. She stood up, glanced at the bar, and surreptitiously removed a hatpin from her hat. 'Shan't be a moment.'
The two of them were left in their own private gloom. Granny sat staring fixedly in front of her.
'You really shouldn't take it so bad, just because people aren't showing you any respect,' said Magrat, pouring soothing oil on the internal fires. 'They've hardly ever shown me any respect at all. It's not a problem.'
'If you ain't got respect, you ain't got a thing,' said Granny distantly.
'Oh, I don't know. I've always managed to get along,' said Magrat.
'That's 'cos you're a wet hen, Magrat Garlick,' said Granny.
There was a short, hot silence, ringing with the words that shouldn't have escaped and a few grunts of pained surprise from the direction of the bar.
I know she's always thought that, Magrat told herself within the glowing walls of her embarrassment. I just never thought she'd ever say it. And she'll never say sorry, because that's not the kind of thing she does. She just expects people to forget things like that. I was just trying to be friends again. If she ever really has any friends.
'Here we are then,' said Nanny Ogg, emerging from the crush with a tray. 'Fruit drinks.'
She sat down and looked from one to the other.
'Made from bananas,' she said, in the hope of striking a spark of interest from either woman. 'I remember our Shane brought a banana home once. My, we had a good laugh about that. I said to the man, “What kind of fruit drinks do people drink around here?” and this is what he gave me. Made from bananas. A banana drink. You'll like it. It's what everyone drinks here. It's got bananas in it.'
'It's certainly very. . . strongly flavoured,' said Magrat, sipping hers cautiously. 'Has it got sugar in it too?'
'Very likely,' said Nanny. She looked at Granny's middle-distance frown for a moment, and then picked up her pencil and licked the end professionally.
Anywey one good thing is the drink here is v. cheap theres this one called a Bananana dakry which is basicly Rum with a banananana* in it. I can feel it doin me good. It is v. damp here. I hope we find somewhere to stay tonigt I expect we shal becaus Esme alweys falls on her feet or at any rate on someones feet. I have drawern a picture of a banananana dakry you can see it is empty right down to the bottom. Love, MUM XXXX
In the end they found a stable. It was, as Nanny Ogg cheerfully commented, probably warmer and more hygienic than any of the inns and there were millions of people in foreign parts who'd give their right arms for such a comfy, dry place to sleep.
This cut about as much ice as a soap hacksaw.
It doesn't take much to make witches fall out.
Magrat lay awake, using her sack of clothes as a pillow and listening to the warm soft rain on the roof.
It's all gone wrong before we've even started, she thought. I don't know why I let them come with me. I'm perfectly capable of doing something by myself for once, but they always treat me as if I was a ... a wet hen. I don't see why I should have to put up with her sulking and snapping at me the whole time. What's so special about her, anyway? She hardly ever does anything really magical, whatever Nanny says. She really does just shout a lot and bully people. And as for Nanny, she means well but she has no sense of responsibility, I thought I'd die when she started singing the Hedgehog Song in the inn, I just hope to goodness the people didn't know what the words meant.
I'm the fairy godmother around here. We're not at home now. There's got to be different ways of doing things, in foreign parts.
She got up at first light. The other two were asleep,
* Nanny Ogg knew how to start spelling 'banana', but didn't know how you stopped.
although 'asleep' was too moderate a word for the sounds Granny Weatherwax was making.
Magrat put on her best dress, the green silk one that was unfortunately now a mass of creases. She took out a bundle of tissue paper and slowly unwrapped her occult jewellery; Magrat bought occult jewellery as a sort of distraction from being Magrat. She had three large boxes of the stuff and was still exactly the same person.
