Carpe Jugulum

the end of the stick. It was warm, but…not as hot as it should be.
    Now it was on his finger. It tingled. As he waved it around, the head of every bird turned to watch it.
    By its light, he poked around in the charred remains of the nestboxes. In the ashes were bits of broken eggshell.
    Hodgesaargh picked them up and carried them into the crowded little room at the end of the mews which served as workshop and bedroom. He balanced the flame on a saucer. In here, where it was quieter, he could hear it making a slight sizzling noise.
    In the dim glow he looked along the one crowded bookshelf over his bed and pulled down a huge ragged volume on the cover of which someone had written, centuries ago, the word “Burds.”
    The book was a huge ledger. The spine had been cut and widened inexpertly several times so that more pages could be pasted in.
    The falconers of Lancre knew a lot about birds. The kingdom was on a main migratory route between the Hub and the Rim. The hawks had brought down many strange species over the centuries and the falconers had, very painstakingly, taken notes. The pages were thick with drawings and closely spaced writing, the entries copied and recopied and updated over the years. The occasional feather carefully glued to a page had added to the thickness of the thing.
    No one had ever bothered with an index, but some past falconer had considerately arranged many of the entries into alphabetical order.
    Hodgesaargh glanced again at the flame burning steadily in its saucer, and then, handing the crackling pages with care, turned to “F.”
    After some browsing, he eventually found what he was looking for under “P.”
    Back in the mews, in the deepest shadow, something cowered.

There were three shelves of books in Agnes’s cottage. By witch standards, that was a giant library.
    Two very small blue figures lay on the top of the books, watching the scene with interest.
    Nanny Ogg backed away, waving the poker.
    “It’s all right ,” said Agnes. “It’s me again, Agnes Nitt, but…She’s here but…I’m sort of holding on. Yes! Yes! All right! All right, just shut up, will y—Look, it’s my body, you’re just a figment of my imagina—Okay! Okay! Perhaps it’s not quite so clear c—Let me just talk to Nanny, will you?”
    “Which one are you now?” said Nanny Ogg.
    “I’m still Agnes, of course.” She rolled her eyes up. “All right ! I’m Agnes currently being advised by Perdita, who is also me. In a way. And I’m not too fat, thank you so very much! ”
    “How many of you are there in there?” said Nanny.
    “What do you mean, ‘room for ten’?” shouted Agnes. “Shut up! Listen, Perdita says there were vampires at the party. The Magpyr family, she says. She can’t understand how we acted. They were putting a kind of…’fluence over everyone. Including me, which is why she was able to break thr—Yes, all right, I’m telling it, thank you!”
    “Why not her, then?” said Nanny.
    “Because she’s got a mind of her own! Nanny, can you remember anything they actually said ?”
    “Now you come to mention it, no. But they seemed nice enough people.”
    “And you remember talking to Igor?”
    “Who’s Igor?”
    The tiny blue figures watched, fascinated, for the next half hour.
    Nanny sat back at the end of it and stared at the ceiling for a while.
    “Why should we believe her?” she said eventually.
    “Because she’s me .”
    “They do say that inside every fat girl is a thin girl and—” Nanny began.
    “Yes,” said Agnes bitterly. “I’ve heard it. Yes. She’s the thin girl. I’m the lot of chocolate.”
    Nanny leaned toward Agnes’s ear and raised her voice. “How’re you gettin’ on in there? Everything all right, is it? Treatin’ you all right, is she?”
    “Haha, Nanny. Very funny.”
    “They were saying all this stuff about drinkin’ blood and killin’ people and everyone was just noddin’ and sayin’, ‘Well, well, how very fascinatin’?”
    “Yes!”
    “And eatin’ garlic?”
    “Yes!”
    “That can’t be right, can it?”
    “I don’t know, perhaps we used the wrong sort of garlic!”
    Nanny rubbed her chin, torn between the vampiric revelation and prurient curiosity about Perdita.
    “How does Perdita work, then?” she said.
    Agnes sighed. “Look, you know the part of you that wants to do all the things you don’t dare do, and thinks the thoughts you don’t dare think?”
    Nanny’s face stayed blank. Agnes