Tiffany smiled, laid a gentling hand on Mrs Pigeon, and then took Nightshade by the arm. ‘I need your help,’ she said. ‘Elves have put this glamour on the stream and it runs past several farms … can you put it right?’ She paused. ‘As your friend, Nightshade, I am asking for your help. The Feegles can help with the sheep, but to remove the glamour? This is something only one of your kind can do.’
Nightshade stood up. ‘A glamour from Peaseblossom?’ she said. ‘This will be no trouble to remove. That elf is weak. And yes, I will help you, Tiffany. You are my … friend.’ The word sounded odd in her voice, but there was no doubt that she meant it.
So she went down into the fields with Tiffany, past the skittish sheep in the yard — some of whom, courtesy of the ever-present Feegles, had just broken the county record for stream-to-yard time, one young lamb actually doing so on one leg — and down to the boiling water.
Where she did indeed put it right.
And the tiny little glow inside began to smoulder …
The old barn behind Mr Sideways’s shed was full of miscellaneous weaponry, souvenirs from many conflicts, lovingly oiled and meticulously labelled.
‘I’ve been collecting them,’ Mr Sideways said proudly. ‘Every campaign I bin in and more besides. You should always keep your weapons handy. I mean, I don’t say anything bad about the trolls and the dwarfs, but we fought them more’n once and so I say, you always have to make sure. Somebody says something and before you know it, we’re knee-deep in dwarfs. They give you the up and under. You can’t trust ’em with the up and under.’
Geoffrey looked around the walls of the barn in astonishment. The machinery of death was everywhere, if you looked at it properly. And there he was, this smiling old man with whom he’d just been sharing a cup of tea, eyes sparkling, ready to face the foe, especially if it wasn’t human. And he was known as Laughing Boy? What would he have been like if he had been known as Scowling Boy?
‘I can turn a lathe as good as anybody,’ Mr Sideways said.
‘A lathe,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You get swarf, don’t you?’
‘Oh yes, terrible stuff if it gets in your eye.’ He smiled. ‘And it could be useful for something.’ There was a moment when he almost led Geoffrey back out again, but then he could not hold it in any longer — he had to show the boy what he had been working on. ‘Come, lad,’ he said. ‘Have a look at this. It was going to be a secret until it was finished, but of course I can tell you.’
At the back of the barn there was a huge shape covered with a tarpaulin. Mr Sideways led Geoffrey over to it, reached up and gave the tarpaulin a tug, and as it fell away Geoffrey gasped.
The machine looked like a great metal grasshopper, with a counterweight at one end, and an enormous leather sling at the other. As he gazed at the machine in astonishment, Geoffrey realized that he had seen something similar in the books Mr Wiggall had shown him at home. He said, ‘This looks dangerous.’
‘I hope so,’ said Mr Sideways. ‘I’ve always wanted one of these, ever since I saw them in action. The dwarfs had ones a bit like this which could throw a troll flat on his back. Those dwarfs know a thing or two, I must say, and I’m very big on gnome defence.’ He coughed. ‘Got the idea to build one after I’d been watching the lads down the pub do the Stick and Bucket dance.’[50]
‘So I see,’ said Geoffrey.
‘Captain Makepeace is very impressed,’ Mr Sideways added. ‘So me and the boys are going to try it out tomorrow, but nowhere anyone can see us.’
These old gentlemen have certain qualities, Geoffrey thought. Just because they are old doesn’t mean they can’t be powerful.
Chapter 17
An Argument of Witches
Through the unbarred door, Lord Lankin creeps into a crumbling old manor house. Up the creaky stairs, snuffing out the candles in the sconces as he passes, he opens an unbolted door and prowls into a nursery, where a young nursemaid rocking a cradle looks up, gazes into his eyes, and then pulls a sharp pin from her basket …
Sitting in the Great Hall at Lancre Castle with their allies and friends, Tiffany and the witches of Lancre contemplated the construction of a battle plan.
It had taken some effort to get everyone there and settled down. Geoffrey had done a marvellous job rounding up reinforcements from all over, flying hours in every direction with Tiffany’s message, to every witch she could name.
Even blind Mrs Happenstance and Long Tall Short Fat Sally had turned up, with Mrs Proust from Ankh-Morpork. And there was a group of younger witches too: Annagramma Hawkin, Petulia Gristle, Dimity Hubbub, Harrieta Bilk and others. Under Queen Magrat’s watchful eye, Letitia ticked them off Tiffany’s list as they arrived.
Having a queen backing you up was a good thing, Tiffany thought, as Mrs Earwig came in and started bossing everyone around — Magrat swiftly put a stop to that, for even Mrs Earwig found that she couldn’t argue with royalty. But dealing with witches all together was like carrying a tray full of marbles. Witches were very good at rubbing one another up the wrong way, and little feuds turned up and went away and disappeared and started again. It was silly and everybody knew it, but they couldn’t help themselves.
Geoffrey came into his own on occasions like this. Whenever bickering broke out, he was there with the perfect word or a sympathetic smile. Seeing his calm-weaving doing its subtle work was a joy, Tiffany thought. You could almost see the calm coming out of his ears.
‘Ladies,’ Tiffany said, calling the meeting to order. ‘Here’s the problem. The elves are back again, this time in force. And if we don’t stop them soon, things will get very bad indeed. I know some of you have encountered elves before’ — she looked at Nanny Ogg and Magrat — ‘but many of you have not. They are a formidable foe.’
Nightshade was standing at the side of the hall, almost too demure in her dairymaid’s dress. She didn’t seem very formidable, but a few of the older witches were eyeing her as though they had just encountered a bad smell.
Mrs Earwig tutted and looked as though she was about to say something, but Petulia got there first. ‘Tiff, are you sure that it’s wise to have an elf here listening to this?’ she asked.
‘Don’t you worry, my girl,’ Nanny Ogg said. ‘If our little friend tries anything, there will be fireworks and no mistake. Certainly no more elf!’
‘The last time this happened, didn’t the King of the Elves intervene?’ Annagramma Hawkin asked, looking at Nanny Ogg.
‘He did indeed, but he almost didn’t. Tiffany’s been to see him already, and it seems Old Horny ain’t interested,’ Nanny answered. ‘Can’t rely on him in any case.’
‘Time moves differently in his realm,’ Tiffany explained. ‘Even if he did decide to do something, it might be now, or next month or next year.’
‘What about the wizards?’ asked another witch. ‘Why aren’t they here?’
Nanny snorted. ‘Ha! That lot. By the time they got a spell ready, the elves would be over the Ramtops and far away.’ She adjusted her position and sniffed. ‘No, this is witches’ business. Them wizards have all got their bums on chairs and their noses stuck in books.’ She said this last word with a sideways glance at Mrs Earwig who was, of course, known for her love of writing.[51]
50
A dance that should only be performed when no women are nearby. If you saw it, you would know why.
51
Most everyday working witches believed the best use for a book was on a nail in the privy.