Carpe Jugulum

bit, then,” Nanny went on, in the same matter-of-fact tone of voice.
    “Something’s trying to push us out,” said Agnes.
    “But it won’t,” said Nanny. “And I don’t think it’ll harm us.”
    “That was a big slab!” said Agnes.
    “Yeah. But it missed us, didn’t it.”
    There was an underground river farther on, sheer white water blurred with speed. It poured around and almost over a dam of driftwood, topped by an inviting long log.
    “Look, this isn’t safe for the baby!” said Agnes. “Do you both see that? You’re her mother, Magrat!”
    “Yes, I know, I was there,” said Magrat, with infuriating calm. “But this doesn’t feel unsafe. Granny’s here somewhere.”
    “That’s right,” said Nanny. “Really close now, I think.”
    “Yes, but she can’t control rivers and rocks—” Agnes began.
    “Here? Dunno. Very… responsive place, this.”
    They inched their way across the log, passing the baby from one to the other.
    Agnes leaned against the stone wall. “How much farther ?”
    “Well, tecnic’ly a few inches,” said Nanny. “That’s helpful to know, isn’t it?”
    “Is it just me,” said Magrat, “or is it getting warmer?”
    “Now that ,” said Agnes, pointing ahead, “I don’t believe.”
    At the end of a slope a crevasse has opened in the rock. Red light spilled out of it. As they stared at it, a ball of flame rolled up and burst across the ceiling.
    “Oh deary deary me,” said Nanny, who had taken a turn to carry the baby. “An’ it’s not even as if there’s any volcanoes anywhere near here. What can she be thinking?” She headed purposefully toward the fire.
    “Careful!” Agnes shouted. “Perdita says it’s real!”
    “What’s that got to do with the price of fish?” said Nanny, and stepped into the fire.
    The flames snapped out.
    The other two stood in the chilly, damp gloom.
    Magrat shuddered. “Nanny, you are carrying the baby .”
    “The harm you come to here is what you brings with you,” said Nanny. “And it’s Granny’s thoughts that are shaping this place. But she wouldn’t raise a hand to a child. Couldn’t do it. Hasn’t got it in her.”
    “This place is reacting to what she’s thinking?” said Agnes.
    “I reckon so,” said Nanny, setting off again.
    “I’d hate to be inside her head!”
    “You nearly are,” said Nanny. “Come on. We’ve passed the fire. I don’t think there’ll be anything else.”
    They found her in a cavern. It had sand on the floor, smooth and unmarked by anything except one set of footprints. Her hat had been placed neatly beside her. Her head rested on a rolled up sack. She held a card in stiff hands.
    It read:
    GOE AWAY
    “That is not very helpful,” said Magrat, and sat down with the baby across her lap. “After all this, too.”
    “Can’t we wake her up?” said Agnes.
    “That’s dangerous,” said Nanny Ogg. “Trying to call her back when she ain’t ready to come? Tricky.”
    “Well, can we at least take her out of here?”
    “She won’t bend round corners but, hah, maybe we could use her as a bridge,” said Nanny. “No, she came here for a reason…”
    She pulled the sack out from under Granny’s head, which did not move, and opened it.
    “Wrinkly apple, bottle of water and a cheese sandwich you could bend horseshoes round,” she said. “And her old box.”
    She set it down on the floor between them.
    “What is in there?” said Agnes.
    “Oh, keepsakes. Memorororabililia, like I said. That sort of thing,” said Nanny. “She always says it’s full of things she’s got no further use for.” She drummed her fingers on the box as if accompanying a thought on the piano, and then picked it up.
    “Should you do that?” said Agnes.
    “No,” said Nanny. She lifted out a bundle of papers tied with ribbon and put them on one side.
    They all saw the light shining up from underneath. Nanny reached in and took out a small glass medicine bottle, tightly corked, and held it up. A little glow inside was quite bright in the gloom of the cave.
    “Seen this bottle before,” said Nanny. “She’s got all kinds of odds and ends in here. Never noticed it glowing, though.”
    Agnes took the bottle. Inside there was what looked like a piece of fern, or…no, it was a feather, quite black except for the very tip which was as yellow and bright as a candle flame.
    “Do you know what it is?”
    “No. She’s always pickin’ up stuff. She’s had the bottle a long time,