Lords and Ladies

other weaver. “Definitely remember the start. And the dancing in the woods. But the Entertainment—”
    “There was elves in it,” said Tinker the tinker.
    “That’s why it all got buggered up,” said Thatcher the carter. “There was a lot of shouting, too.”
    “There was someone with horns on,” said Carter, “and a great big—”
    “It was all,” said Jason, “a bit of a dream.”
    “Hey, look over there, Carter,” said Weaver, winking at the others, “there’s that monkey. You’ve got something to ask it, ain’t you?”
    Carter blinked. “Coo, yes,” he said.
    “Shouldn’t waste a golden opportunity if I was you,” said Weaver, with the happy malice often shown by the clever to the simple.
    The Librarian was chatting to Ponder and the Bursar. He looked around as Carter prodded him.
    “You’ve been over to Slice, then, have you?” he said, in his cheery open way.
    The Librarian gave him a look of polite incomprehension.
    “Oook?”
    Carter looked perplexed.
    “That’s where you put your nut, ain’t it?”
    The Librarian gave him another odd look, and shook his head.
    “Oook.”
    “Weaver!” Carter shouted, “the monkey says he didn’t put his nut where the sun don’t shine! You said he did! You didn’t, did you? He said you did.” He turned to the Librarian. “He didn’t, Weaver. See, I knew you’d got it wrong. You’re daft . There’s no monkeys in Slice.”
    Silence flowed outward from the two of them.
    Ponder Stibbons held his breath.
    “This is a lovely party,” said the Bursar to a chair, “I wish I was here.”
    The Librarian picked up a large bottle from the table. He tapped Carter on the shoulder. Then he poured him a large drink and patted him on the head.
    Ponder relaxed and turned back to what he was doing. He’d tied a knife to a bit of string and was gloomily watching it spin round and round…
    On his way home that night Weaver was picked up by a mysterious assailant and dropped into the Lancre. No one ever found out why. Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, especially simian ones. They’re not all that subtle.

    Others went home that night.
    “She’ll be getting ideas above her station in life,” said Granny Weatherwax, as the two witches strolled through the scented air.
    “She’s a queen . That’s pretty high,” said Nanny Ogg. “Almost as high as witches.”
    “Yes…well…but you ain’t got to give yourself airs,” said Granny Weatherwax. “We’re advantaged , yes, but we act with modesty and we don’t Put Ourselves Forward. No one could say I haven’t been decently modest all my life.”
    “You’ve always been a bit of a shy violet, I’ve always said,” said Nanny Ogg. “I’m always telling people, when it comes to humility you won’t find anyone more humile than Esme Weatherwax.”
    “Always keep myself to myself and minded my own business—”
    “Barely known you were there half the time,” said Nanny Ogg.
    “I was talking, Gytha.”
    “Sorry.”
    They walked along in silence for a while. It was a warm dry evening. Birds sang in the trees.
    Nanny said, “Funny to think of our Magrat being married and everything?”
    “What do you mean, everything?”
    “Well, you know— married, ” said Nanny. “I gave her a few tips. Always wear something in bed. Keeps a man interested.”
    “You always wore your hat.”
    “Right.”
    Nanny waved a sausage on a stick. She always believed in stocking up on any free food that was available.
    “I thought the wedding feast was very good, didn’t you? And Magrat looked radiant, I thought.”
    “ I thought she looked hot and flustered.”
    “That is radiant, with brides.”
    “You’re right, though,” said Granny Weatherwax, who was walking a little way ahead. “It was a good dinner. I never had this Vegetarian Option stuff before.”
    “When I married Mr. Ogg, we had three dozen oysters at our wedding feast. Mind you, they didn’t all work.”
    “And I like the way they give us all a bit o’ the wedding cake in a little bag,” said Granny.
    “Right. You know, they says, if you puts a bit under your pillow, you dream of your future husb…” Nanny Ogg’s tongue tripped over itself.
    She stopped, embarrassed, which was unusual in an Ogg.
    “It’s all right,” said Granny. “I don’t mind.”
    “Sorry, Esme.”
    “Everything happens somewhere. I know. I know . Everything happens somewhere. So it’s all the same in the end.”
    “That’s very