Carpe Jugulum

heard ’em preaching once down in Ohulan and they was saying some very nasty things about witches,” said Nanny.
    “Sadly, not everyone knows witches like we do,” said Verence, with what Nanny on her overheated state thought was unnecessary diplomacy.
    “And our Wayne said they tries to turn folk against other religions,” she went on. “Since they opened up that mission of theirs even the Offlerians have upped sticks and gone. I mean, it’s one thing saying you’ve got the best god, but sayin’ it’s the only real one is a bit of a cheek, in my opinion. I know where I can find at least two any day of the week. And they say everyone starts out bad and only gets good by believin’ in Om, which is frankly damn nonsense. I mean, look at your little girl—What’s her name going to be, now…?”
    “Everyone will know in twenty minutes, Nanny,” said Verence smoothly.
    “Hah!” Nanny’s tone made it clear that Radio Ogg disapproved of this news management. “Well, look…the worst she could put her little hand up to at her age is a few grubby nappies and keepin’ you awake at night. That’s hardly sinful , to my mind.”
    “But you’ve never objected to the Gloomy Brethren, Nanny. Or to the Wonderers. And the Balancing Monks come through here all the time.”
    “But none of them object to me ,” said Nanny.
    Verence turned. He was finding this disconcerting. He knew Nanny Ogg very well, but mainly as the person standing just behind Granny Weatherwax and smiling a lot. It was hard to deal with an angry Ogg.
    “I really think you’re taking this too much to heart, Mrs. Ogg,” he said.
    “Granny Weatherwax won’t like it!” Nanny played the trump card. To her horror, it didn’t seem to have the desired effect.
    “Granny Weatherwax isn’t King, Mrs. Ogg,” said Verence. “And the world is changing. There is a new order. Once upon a time trolls were monsters that ate people but now, thanks to the endeavors of men, and of course trolls, of goodwill and peaceful intent we get along very well and I hope we understand each other. This is no longer a time when little kingdoms need only worry about little concerns. We’re part of a big world. We have to play that part. For example, what about the Muntab question?”
    Nanny Ogg asked the Muntab question. “Where the hell’s Muntab?” she said.
    “Several thousand miles away, Mrs. Ogg. But it has ambitions Hubward, and it there’s war with Borogravia we will certainly have to adopt a position.”
    “This one several thousand miles away looks fine by me,” said Nanny. “And I don’t see—”
    “I’m afraid you don’t,” said Verence. “Nor should you have to. But affairs in distant countries can suddenly end up close to home. If Klatch sneezes, Ankh-Morpork catches a cold. We have to pay attention. Are we always to be part of the Ankh-Morpork hegemony? Are we not in a unique position as we reach the end of the Century of the Fruitbat? The countries widdershins of the Ramtops are beginning to make themselves felt. The ‘werewolf economies,’ as the Patrician in Ankh-Morpork calls them. New powers are emerging. Old countries are blinking in the sunlight of the dawning millennium. And of course we have to maintain friendships with all blocs. And so on. Despite a turbulent past, Omnia is a friendly country…or, at least,” he admitted, “I’m sure they would be friendly if they knew about Lancre. Being unpleasant to the priests of its state religion will serve us no good purpose. I’m sure we will not regret it.”
    “Let’s hope we won’t,” said Nanny. She gave Verence a withering look. “And I remember you when you were just a man in a funny hat.”
    Even this didn’t work. Verence merely sighed again and turned toward the door.
    “I still am, Nanny,” he said. “It’s just that this one’s a lot heavier. And now I must go, otherwise we shall be keeping our guests waiting. Ah, Shawn…”
    Shawn Ogg had appeared at the door. He saluted.
    “How’s the army coming along, Shawn?”
    “I’ve nearly finished the knife, sir. * Just got to do the nose-hair tweezers and the folding saw, sir. But actually I’m here as herald at the moment, sir.”
    “Ah, it must be time.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “A shorter fanfare this time, Shawn, I think,” said the King. “While I personally appreciate your skill, an occasion like this calls for something a little simpler than several bars of ‘Pink Hedgehog Rag.’”
    “Yes,