Carpe Jugulum

'They've locked themselves in the keep, mistress,' said a voice in the doorway. It was Shawn Ogg, with the rest of the mob behind him. He advanced awkwardly, one hand held in front of him.

'That's a blessing, then,' said Granny.

'But we can't get in, mistress,' said Shawn.

'So? Can they get out?'

'Well... no, not really. But the armoury's in there. All our weaponsl And they're boozing!'

'What's that you're holding?'.

Shawn looked down. 'It's the Lancrastian Army Knife,' he said. 'Er... I left my sword in the armoury, too.'

'Has it got a tool for extracting soldiers from castles?'

'Er... no.'

Granny peered closer. 'What's the curly thing?' she said.

'Oh, that's the Adjustable Device for Winning Ontological Arguments,' said Shawn. 'The King asked for it.'

'Works, does it?'

'Er... if you twiddle it properly.'

'And this?'

'That's the Tool for Extracting the Essential Truth from a Given Statement,' said Shawn.

'Verence asked for that one too, did he?'

'Yes, Granny.'

'Useful to a soldier, is it?' said Oats. He glanced at Granny. She'd changed as soon as the others had entered. Before, she'd been bowed and tired. Now she was standing tall and haughty, supported by a scaffolding of pride.

'Oh, yes, sir, 'cos of when the other side are yelling, "We're gonna cut yer tonk- yer tongue off,"' Shawn blushed and corrected himself, 'and things like that...'

'Yes?'

'Well, you can tell if they're going to be right,' said Shawn.

'I need a horse,' said Granny.

'There's old Poorchick's plough horse-' Shawn began.

'Too slow.'

'I... er..., I've got a mule,' said Oats. 'The King was kind enough to let me put it in the stables.'

'Neither one thing nor t'other, eh?' said Granny. 'It suits you. That'll do for me, then. Fetch it up here and I'll be off to get the girls back.'

'What? I thought you wanted it to take you up to your cottagel Into Uberwald? Alone? I couldn't let you do that!'

'I ain't asking you to let me do anything. Now off you go and fetch it, otherwise Om will be angry, I expect.'

'But you can hardly stand up!'

'Certainly I can! Off you go.'

Oats turned to the assembled Lancrastians for support.

'You wouldn't let a poor old lady go off to confront monsters on a wild night like this, would you?'

They watched him owlishly for a while just in case something interestingly nasty was going to happen to him.

Then someone near the back said, 'So why should we care what happens to monsters?'

And Shawn Ogg said, 'That's Granny Weatherwax, that is.'

'But she's an old lady!' Oats insisted.

The crowd took a few steps back. Oats was clearly a dangerous man to be around.

'Would you go out alone on a night like this?' he said.

The voice at the back said, 'Depends if I knew where Granny Weatherwax was.'

'Don't think I didn't hear that, Bestiality Carter,' said Granny, but there was just a hint of satisfaction in her voice. 'Now, are we fetchin' your mule, Mr Oats?'

'Are you sure you can walk?'

'Of course I cant'

Oats gave up. Granny smirked triumphantly at the crowd and strode through them and towards the stables, with him trotting after her.

When he hurried around the corner he almost collided with her, standing as stiff as a rod.

'Is there anyone watchin' me?' she said.

'What? No, I don't think so. Apart from me, of course.'

'You don't count,' said Granny.

She sagged, and almost collapsed. He caught her, and she pummelled him on the arm. The wowhawk flapped its wings desperately.

'Let go! I just lost my footin', that's all!'

'Yes, yes, of course. You just lost your footing,' he said soothingly.

'And don't try to humour me, either.'

'Yes, yes, all right.'

'It's just that it don't do to let things slide, if you must know.'

'Like your foot did just then...'

'Exactly.'

'So perhaps I'll take your arm, because it's very muddy.'

He could just make out her face. It was a picture, but not one you'd hang over the fireplace. Some sort of inner debate was raging.

'Well, if you think you're going to fall over...' she said.

'That's right, that's right,' said Oats gratefully. 'I nearly hurt my ankle back there as it is.'

'I've always said young people today don't have the stamina,' said Granny, as if testing out an idea.

'That's right, we don't have the stamina.'

'And your eyesight is prob'ly not as good as mine owin' to too much readin',' said Granny.

'Blind as a bat, that's right.'

'All right.'

And so, at cross purposes and lurching occasionally, they reached the stables.

The mule shook its head at Granny Weatherwax when they arrived at its loose box. It knew trouble when it saw her.

'It's a bit cantankerous,' said Oats.

'Is it?' said Granny. 'Then we shall see what we can do.'

She walked unsteadily over to the creature and pulled one of its ears down to the level of her mouth. She whispered something. The mule blinked.

'That's sorted out, then,' she said. 'Help me up.'

'Just let me put the bridle on-'

'Young man, I might be temp'ry not at my best, but when I need a bridle on any creature they can put me to bed with a shovel. Give me a hand up, and kindly avert your face whilst so doing.'