Carpe Jugulum

Well, I saw a cleaver back there—”
    “Shall we just go?” Magrat suggested. “Before someone else comes, perhaps?”
    “All right. He’s not a high-up vampire, anyway,” said Nanny dismissively. “He’s not even wearing a very interestin’ waistcoat.”
    The night was silver with rain. Heads down, the witches dashed through the murk.
    “I’ve got to change the baby!”
    “For a raincoat’d be favorite,” muttered Nanny. “Now?”
    “It’s a bit urgent…”
    “All right, then, in here…”
    They ducked into the stables. Nanny peered back into the night, and shut the door quietly.
    “It’s very dark,” whispered Magrat.
    “I could always change babies by feel when I was young.”
    “I’d prefer not to have to. Hey…there’s a light…”
    The weak glow of a candle was just visible at the far end of the loose boxes.
    Igor was brushing the horses until they shone. His muttering kept time with the strokes of the brush. Something seemed to be on his mind.
    “Thilly voithe, eh? Thilly walk? What the hell doth he know? Jumped-up whipper-thnapper! Igor thtop thith, Igor thtop that…all thethe kidth thwanning around, trying to puth me around…there’th a covenant in thethe thingth. The old marthter knew that! A thervant ith not a thlave…”
    He glanced around. A piece of straw drifted to the ground.
    He began brushing again. “Huh! Fetch thith, fetch that…never a morthel of rethpect, oh no…”
    Igor stopped and pulled another piece of straw off his sleeve.
    “…and another thing…”
    There was a creak, a rush of air, the horse reared in its stall and Igor was borne to the ground, his head feeling as though it were caught in a vice.
    “Now, if I brings my knees together,” said a cheerful female voice above him, “it’s very probable I could make your brains come right down your nose, But I know that ain’t going to happen, because I’m sure we’re all friends here. Say yes.”
    “’th.”
    “That’s the best we’re going to get, I expect.”
    Nanny Ogg got up and flicked straw off her dress.
    “I’ve been in cleaner haylofts,” she said. “Up you get, Mr. Igor. And if you’re thinking of anything clever, my colleague over there is holdin’ a pitchfork and she ain’t much good at aiming so who knows what part of you she might hit?”
    “Ith that a baby thee’th carrying?”
    “We’re very modern,” said Nanny. “We’ve got hedge money and everything. And now we’ll have your coach, Igor.”
    “Will we?” said Magrat. “Where’re we going?”
    “It’s a wicked night. I don’t want to keep the babby out, and I don’t know where we’d be safe near here. Maybe we can get down onto the plains before morning.”
    “I won’t leave Lancre!”
    “Save the child,” said Nanny. “Make sure there’s going to be a future. Besides…” She mouthed something at Magrat which Igor did not catch.
    “We can’t be sure of that,” said Magrat.
    “You know the way Granny thinks,” said Nanny. “She’ll want us to keep the baby safe,” she added, loudly. “So hitch up the horses, Mr. Igor.”
    “Yeth, mithtreth,” said Igor meekly.
    “Are you kicking my bucket, Igor?” *
    “No, it’th a pleathure to be commanded in a clear, firm authoritative voithe, mithtreth,” said Igor, lurching over to the bridles. “None of this ‘Would you mind…’ rubbith. An Igor liketh to know where he thtandth.”
    “Slightly lopsidedly?” said Magrat.
    “The old marthter uthed to whip me every day!” said Igor proudly.
    “You liked that?” said Magrat.
    “Of courthe not! But it’th proper ! He wath a gentleman , whothe bootth I wath not fit to lick clean…”
    “But you did, though?” said Nanny.
    Igor nodded. “Every morning. Uthed to get a lovely thine, too.”
    “Well, help us out and I’ll see you’re flogged with a scented bootlace,” said Nanny.
    “Thankth all the thame, but I’m leathing anyway,” said Igor, tightening a strap. “I’m thick up to here with thith lot. They thouldn’t be doing thith! They’re a dithgrathe to the thpethieth!”
    Nanny wiped her face. “I like a man who speaks his mind,” she said, “and is always prepared to lend a towel—did I say towel? I mean hand.”
    “Are you going to trust him?” said Magrat.
    “I’m a good judge of character, me,” said Nanny. “And you can always rely a man with stitches all around his head.”

“Waley, waley, waley!”
    “Ta’ can onlie be one