Carpe Jugulum

little talk,” said Magrat. “It’s a bit…look, I’m really very happy, but…well, Millie’s nice but she agrees with me all the time and Nanny and Granny still treat me as if I wasn’t, well, you know, Queen and everything…not that I want to be treated as Queen all the time but, well, you know, I want them to know I’m Queen but not treat me as one, if you see what I mean…”
    “I think so,” said Agnes carefully.
    Magrat waved her hands in an effort to describe the indescribable. Used handkerchiefs cascaded out of her sleeves.
    “I mean…I get dizzy with people bobbing up and down all the time, so when they see me I like them to think ‘Oh, there’s Magrat, she’s Queen now but I shall treat her in a perfectly normal way—’”
    “But perhaps just a little bit more politely because she is Queen, after all,” Agnes suggested.
    “Well, yes…exactly. Actually, Nanny’s not too bad, at least she treats everyone the same all the time, but when Granny looks at me you can see her thinking ‘Oh, there’s Magrat. Make the tea, Magrat.’ One day I swear I’ll make a very cutting remark. It’s as if they think I’m doing this as a hobby !”
    “I do know what you mean.”
    “It’s as if they think I’m going to get it out of my system and go back to witching again. They wouldn’t say that, of course, but that’s what they think. They really don’t believe there’s any other sort of life.”
    “That’s true.”
    “How’s the old cottage?”
    “There’s a lot of mice,” said Agnes.
    “I know. I used to feed them. Don’t tell Granny. She’s here, isn’t she?”
    “Haven’t seen her yet,” said Agnes.
    “Ah, she’ll be waiting for a dramatic moment,” said Magrat. “And you know what? I’ve never caught her actually waiting for a dramatic moment, not in all the, well, things we’ve been involved in. I mean, if it was you or me, we’d be hanging around in the hall or something, but she just walks in and it’s the right time.”
    “She says you make your own right time,” said Agnes.
    “Yes.”
    “Yes.”
    “And you say she’s not here yet? It was the first card we did!” Magrat leaned closer. “Verence got them to put extra gold leaf on it. I’m amazed it doesn’t go clang when she puts it down. How are you at making the tea?”
    “They always complain,” said Agnes.
    “They do, don’t they. Three lumps of sugar for Nanny Ogg, right?”
    “It’s not as if they even give me tea money,” said Agnes. She sniffed. There was a slight mustiness to the air.
    “It’s not worth baking biscuits, I can tell you that,” said Magrat. “I used to spend hours doing fancy ones with crescent moons and so on. You might just as well get them from the shop.”
    She sniffed, too. “That’s not the baby,” she said. “I’m sure Shawn Ogg’s been so busy arranging things he hasn’t had time to clean up the privy pit the last two weeks. The smell comes right up the garderobe in the Gong Tower when the wind gusts. I’ve tried hanging up fragrant herbs but they sort of dissolve.”
    She looked uncertain, as if a worse prospect than lax castle sanitation had crossed her mind. “Er…she must’ve got the invitation, mustn’t she?”
    “Shawn says he delivered it,” said Agnes. “And she probably said,” and here her voice changed, becoming clipped and harsh, “‘I can’t be havin’ with that at my time of life. I’ve never bin one to put meself forward, no one could ever say I’m one to put meself forward.’”
    Magrat’s mouth was an O of amazement.
    “That’s so like her it’s frightening!” she said.
    “It’s one of the few things I’m good at,” said Agnes, in her normal voice. “Big hair, a wonderful personality, and an ear for sounds.” And two minds, Perdita added. “She’ll come anyway,” Agnes went on, ignoring the inner voice.
    “But it’s gone half eleven…good grief, I’d better get dressed! Can you give me a hand?”
    She hurried into the dressing room with Agnes tagging along behind.
    “I even wrote a bit underneath asking her to be a godmother,” she said, sitting down in front of the mirror and scrabbling among the debris of makeup. “She’s always secretly wanted to be one.”
    “That’s something to wish on a child,” said Agnes, without thinking.
    Magrat’s hand stopped halfway to her face, in a little cloud of powder, and Agnes saw her horrified look in the mirror. Then the jaw tightened, and for a moment