Carpe Jugulum

wrenched off the lid and held it under the keyhole. When the smoke had filled it up she dropped a few cloves of garlic in and slammed the lid back on.
    The jar rocked urgently on the floor.
    Then Magrat glanced at the lid of the well. When she lifted it up, she heard rushing water a long way below. Well, that was likely, wasn’t it? There must be lots of underground rivers in the mountains.
    She held the jar over the center of the hole, and let it go. Then she slammed the lid back down.
    Young Esme gurgled in the corner. Magrat hurried over to her and shook a rattle.
    “Look at the pretty bunny rabbit,” she said, and darted back again.
    There was whispering on the other side of the door. Then Nanny Ogg’s voice said, “It’s all right, dear, we’ve got them. You can open the door now. Lawks.”
    Magrat rolled her eyes.
    “Is that really you, Nanny?”
    “That’s right, dear.”
    “Thank goodness. Just tell me the joke about the old woman, the priest and the rhinoceros, then, and I’ll let you in.”
    There was a pause, and some more whispering.
    “I don’t think we’ve got time for that, dear,” said the voice.
    “Ha ha, nice try,” said Magrat. “I’ve dropped one of you in the river! Who was it?”
    After some silence the voice of the Count said: “We thought the Countess could persuade you to listen to reason.”
    “Not in a jar she can’t,” said Magrat. “And I’ve got more jars if you want to try it again!”
    “We had hoped that you would be sensible about this,” said the Count. “However…”
    The door slammed back, pulling the bolts out of the wall.
    Magrat grabbed the baby and stepped backward, her other hands raised.
    “You come near me and I’ll stab you with this!” she shouted.
    “It’s a teddy bear,” said the Count. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t work, even if you sharpened it.”

The door was so hard that the wood was like stone with a grain. Someone had once thought hard about the maximum amount of force a really determined mob would be able to apply, and had then overdesigned.
    It hung open.
    “But we heard her put the bars across!” wailed Nanny.
    A variously colored lump was sprawled in front of the door. Igor knelt down and picked up a limp paw.
    “They kill Thcrapth! The bathtardth!”
    “They’ve got Magrat and the babby!” snapped Nanny.
    “He wath my only friend!”
    Nanny’s arm shot out and, despite his bulk, Igor was lifted up by his collar.
    “You’re going to have one very serious enemy really soon , my lad, unless you help us out right now ! Oh, for heaven’s sake…” With her spare hand she reached into her knickerleg and produced a large crumpled handkerchief. “Have a good blow, will you?”
    There was a noise like a foghorn being trodden on.
    “Now, where would they take them? The place is swarming with righteous peasants!” said Nanny, when he’d finished.
    “He wath alwayth ready with hith waggy tailth and hith cold nothe—” Igor sobbed.
    “ Where , Igor?”
    Igor pointed with his finger, or at least one that he currently owned, to the far door.
    “That goeth to the vaultth,” he said. “An’ they can get out through the iron gate down in the valley. You’ll never catch them!”
    “But it’s still bolted,” said Agnes.
    “Then they’re thtill in the cathtle, which ith thtupid—”
    He was interrupted by several huge organ chords, which made the floor rumble.
    “Any of the Escrow folk big musicians?” said Nanny, lowering Igor.
    “How do I know?” said Agnes, as another couple of descending chords brought dust down from the ceiling. “They wanted to hammer a stake in me and boil my head! That is not the time to ask them to give a little whistle!”
    The organ piped its summons once more.
    “Why’d they stay?” said Nanny. “They could be dug in deep somewhere by now—Oh…”
    “Granny wouldn’t run,” said Agnes.
    “No, Granny Weatherwax likes a showdown,” said Nanny, grinning artfully. “And they’re thinkin’ like her. Somehow, she’s making them think like her …”
    “ She thinks like her, too,” said Agnes.
    “Let’s hope she’s had more practice, then,” said Nanny. “Come on!”

Lacrimosa pulled an organ stop marked “Ghastly Face at Win-dow” and was rewarded with a chord, a crash of thunder and a slightly mechanical scream.
    “Thank goodness we don’t take after your side of the family, Father, that’s all I can say,” she said. “Although I suppose it could be fun