Carpe Jugulum

herself against the wall.
    “Where did they go?”
    “I thought you could read their minds or something,” said Oats.
    “Young man, right now I don’t think I can read my own mind.”
    “Look, Granny Weatherwax, it’s obvious to me you’re still weak from loss of blood—”
    “Don’t you dare tell me what I am,” said Granny. “Don’t you dare. Now, where would Gytha Ogg’ve taken them?”
    “I think—”
    “Uberwald,” said Granny. “That’ll be it.”
    “What? How can you know that?”
    “Because nowhere in the village’d be safe, she wouldn’t go up to the gnarly ground on a night like this and with a baby to carry as well, and heading down onto the plains’d be downright daft ’cos there’s no cover and I wouldn’t be surprised if the road is washed out by now.”
    “But that’ll be right into danger!”
    “More dangerous than here?” said Granny. “They know about vampires in Uberwald. They’re used to ’em. There’s safe places. Pretty strong inns all along the coach road, for a start. Nanny’s practical. She’ll think of that, I’m betting.” She winced, and added, “But they’ll end up in the vampires’ castle.”
    “Oh, surely not!”
    “I can feel it in my blood,” said Granny. “That’s the trouble with Gytha Ogg. Far too practical.” She paused. “You mentioned guards?”
    “They’ve locked themselves in the keep, mistress,” said a voice in the doorway. It was Shawn Ogg, with the rest of the mob behind him. He advanced awkwardly, one hand held in front of him.
    “That’s a blessing, then,” said Granny.
    “But we can’t get in, mistress,” said Shawn.
    “So? Can they get out?”
    “Well…no, not really. But the armory’s in there. All our weapons! And they’re boozing!”
    “What’s that you’re holding?”
    Shawn looked down. “It’s the Lancrastian Army Knife,” he said. “Er…I left my sword in the armory, too.”
    “Has it got a tool for extracting soldiers from castles?”
    “Er…no.”
    Granny peered closer. “What’s the curly thing?” she said.
    “Oh, that’s the Adjustable Device for Winning Ontological Arguments,” said Shawn. “The King asked for it.”
    “Works, does it?”
    “Er…if you twiddle it properly.”
    “And this?”
    “That is the Tool for Extracting the Essential Truth from a Given Statement,” said Shawn.
    “Verence asked for that one too, did he?”
    “Yes, Granny.”
    “Useful to a soldier, is it?” said Oats. He glanced at Granny. She’d changed as soon as the others had entered. Before, she’d been bowed and tired. Now she was standing tall and haughty, supported in a scaffolding of pride.
    “Oh yes, sir, ’cos of when the other side are yelling, ‘We’re gonna cut yer tonk—yer tongue off,’” Shawn blushed and corrected himself, “and things like that…”
    “Yes?”
    “Well, you can tell if they’re going to be right,” said Shawn.
    “I need a horse,” said Granny.
    “There’s old Poorchick’s plough horse—” Shawn began.
    “Too slow.”
    “I…er…I’ve got a mule,” said Oats. “The King was kind enough to let me put it in the stables.”
    “Neither one thing nor t’other, eh?” said Granny. “It suits you. That’ll do for me, then. Fetch it up here and I’ll be off to get the girls back.”
    “What? I thought you wanted it to take you up to your cottage! Into Uberwald? Alone? I couldn’t let you do that!”
    “I ain’t asking you to let me do anything. Now off you go and fetch it, otherwise Om will be angry, I expect.”
    “But you can hardly stand up!”
    “Certainly I can! Off you go.”
    Oats turned to the assembled Lancrastians for support.
    “You wouldn’t let a poor old lady go off to confront monsters on a wild night like this, would you?”
    They watched him owlishly for a while just in case something interestingly nasty was going to happen to him.
    Then someone near the back said, “So why should we care what happens to monsters?”
    And Shawn Ogg said, “That’s Granny Weatherwax, that is.”
    “But she’s an old lady!” Oats insisted.
    The crowd took a few steps back. Oats was clearly a dangerous man to be around.
    “Would you go out alone on a night like this?” he said.
    The voice at the back said, “Depends if I knew where Granny Weatherwax was.”
    “Don’t think I didn’t hear that, Bestiality Carter,” said Granny, but there was just a hint of satisfaction in her voice. “Now, are we fetchin’ your mule,