Carpe Jugulum

it.”
    “You’re a bit of a self-made man on the quiet, aren’t you,” said Magrat.
    “Who did your brain?” said Nanny.
    “Can’t do brainth yourthelf,” said Igor.
    “Only…you’ve got all those stitches…”
    “Oh, I put a metal plate in my head,” said Igor. “And a wire down my neck all the way to my bootth. I got fed up with all thothe lightning thtriketh. Here we are.” He unlocked another groaning door. “My little plathe.”
    It was a dank vaulted room, clearly lived in by someone who didn’t spent a lot of social time there. There was a fireplace with a dog basket in front of it, and a bed with a mattress and one blanket. Crude cupboards lined one wall.
    “There’th a well under that cover there,” he said, “and there’th a privy through there…”
    “What’s through that door?” said Nanny, pointing to one with heavy bolts across it.
    “Nothing,” said Igor.
    Nanny shot him a glance. But the bolts were very firmly on this side.
    “This looks like a crypt,” she said. “With a fireplace.”
    “When the old Count wath alive he liked to get warm of an evening before going out,” said Igor. “Golden dayth, them wath. I wouldn’t give you tuppenth for the new vampireth. D’you know, they wanted me to get rid of Thcrapth?”
    Scraps leapt up and tried to lick Nanny’s face.
    “I thaw Lacrimotha kick him onthe,” said Igor darkly. He rubbed his hands together. “Can I get you ladieth anything to eat?”
    “No,” said Nanny and Magrat together.
    Scraps tried to lick Igor. He was a dog with a lot of lick to share.
    “Thcrapth play dead,” said Igor. The dog dropped and rolled over with his legs in the air.
    “Thee?” said Igor. “He rememberth!”
    “Won’t we be cornered down here if the Magpyrs come?” said Magrat.
    “They don’t come down here. It’th not modern enough for them,” said Igor. “And there’th wayth out if they do.”
    Magrat glanced at the bolted door. It didn’t look the kind of way out anyone would want to take.
    “What about weapons?” she said. “I shouldn’t think there’d be any anti-vampire stuff in a vampire’s castle, would there?”
    “Why, thertainly,” said Igor.
    “There is?”
    “Ath much ath you want. The old marthter wath very keen on that. When we had vithitorth ecthpected, he alwayth thed, ‘Igor, make thertain the windowth are clean and there’th lotth of lemonth and bitth of ornament that can be turned into religiouth thymbolth around the plathe.’ He enjoyed it when people played by the ruleth. Very fair, the old marthter.”
    “Yeah, but that’d mean he’d die, wouldn’t it?” said Nanny. She opened a cupboard and a stack of wrinkled lemons fell out.
    Igor shrugged. “You win thome, you lothe thome,” he said. “The old marther uthed to thay, ‘Igor, the day vampireth win all the time, that’th the day we’ll be knocked back beyond return.’ Mind you, he got annoyed when people pinched hith thockth. He’d thay, ‘thod, that wath thilk, ten dollarth a pair in Ankh-Morpork.’”
    “And he probably spent a lot of money on blotting paper, too,” said Nanny. Another cupboard revealed a rack of stakes, along with a mallet and a simple anatomical diagram with an X over the heart area.
    “The chart wath my idea, Mithith Ogg,” said Igor proudly. “The old marthter got fed up with people just hammering the thtaketh in any old where. He thed he didn’t mind the dying, that wath quite rethtful, but he did object to looking like a colander.”
    “You’re a bright chap, aren’t you, Igor,” said Nanny.
    Igor beamed. “I’ve got a good brain in my head.”
    “Chose it yourself, did you? No, only joking. You can’t do brains.”
    “I’ve got a dithtant couthin at Untheen Univerthity, you know.”
    “Really? What’s he do there?”
    “Floatth around in hith jar,” said Igor, proudly. “Thall I thow you the holy water thellar? The old marthter build up a very good collection.”
    “Sorry? A vampire collected holy water ?” said Magrat.
    “I think I’m beginning to understand,” said Nanny. “He was a sportsman, right?”
    “Egthactly!”
    “And a good sportsman always gives the valiant prey a decent chance,” said Nanny. “Even if it means having a cellar of Chateau Nerf de Pope. Sounds an intelligent bird, your old boy. Not like this new one. He’s just clever.”
    “I don’t follow you,” said Magrat.
    “Being killed’s nothing to a vampire,” said Nanny. “They