Lords and Ladies

continuinuinuum thinking, Esme.”
    “Cake’s nice,” said Granny, “but…right now…don’t know why…what I could really do with, Gytha, right now…is a sweet.”
    The last word hung in the evening air like the echo of a gunshot.
    Nanny stopped. Her hand flew to her pocket, where the usual bag of fluff-encrusted boiled sweets resided. She stared at the back of Esme Weatherwax’s head, at the tight bun of gray hair under the brim of the pointy hat.
    “Sweet?” she said.
    “I expect you’ve got another bag now,” said Granny, without looking around.
    “Esme—”
    “You got anything to say, Gytha? About bags of sweets?”
    Granny Weatherwax still hadn’t turned around.
    Nanny looked at her boots.
    “No, Esme,” she said meekly.
    “I knew you’d go up to the Long Man, you know. How’d you get in?”
    “Used one of the special horseshoes.”
    Granny nodded. “You didn’t ought to have brung him into it, Gytha.”
    “Yes, Esme.”
    “He’s as tricky as she is.”
    “Yes, Esme.”
    “You’re trying preemptive meekness on me.”
    “Yes, Esme.”
    They walked a little further.
    “What was that dance your Jason and his men did when they’d got drunk?” said Granny.
    “It’s the Lancre Stick and Bucket Dance, Esme.”
    “It’s legal, is it?”
    “Technically they shouldn’t do it when there’s women present,” said Nanny. “Otherwise it’s sexual morrisment.”
    “And I thought Magrat was very surprised when you recited that poem at the reception.”
    “Poem?”
    “The one where you did the gestures.”
    “Oh, that poem.”
    “I saw Verence making notes on his napkin.”
    Nanny reached again into the shapeless recesses of her clothing and produced an entire bottle of champagne you could have sworn there was no room for.
    “Mind you, I thought she looked happy,” she said. “Standing there wearing about half of a torn muddy dress and chain-mail underneath. Hey, d’you know what she told me?”
    “What?”
    “You know that ole painting of Queen Ynci? You know, the one with the iron bodice? Her with all the spikes and knives on her chariot? Well, she said she was sure the…the spirit of Ynci was helping her. She said she wore the armor and she did things she’d never dare do.”
    “My word,” said Granny, noncommittally.
    “Funny ole world,” agreed Nanny.
    They walked in silence for a while.
    “So you didn’t tell her that Queen Ynci never existed, then?”
    “No point.”
    “Old King Lully invented her entirely ’cos he thought we needed a bit of romantic history. He was a bit mad about that. He even had the armor made.”
    “I know. My great-grandma’s husband hammered it out of a tin bath and a couple of saucepans.”
    “But you didn’t think you ought to tell her that?”
    “No.”
    Granny nodded.
    “Funny thing,” she said, “even when Magrat’s completely different, she’s just the same.”
    Nanny Ogg produced a wooden spoon from somewhere in her apron. Then she raised her hat and carefully lifted down a bowl of cream, custard, and jelly which she had secreted there. *
    “Huh. I really don’t know why you pinches food the whole time,” said Granny. “Verence’d give you a bathful of the stuff if you asked. You know he don’t touch custard himself.”
    “More fun this way,” said Nanny. “I deserve a bit of fun.”
    There was a rustling in the thick bushes and the unicorn burst through.
    It was mad. It was angry. It was in a world where it did not belong. And it was being driven.
    It pawed the ground a hundred yards away, and lowered its horn.
    “Whoops,” said Nanny, dropping her just desserts. “Come on. There’s a tree here, come on .”
    Granny Weatherwax shook her head.
    “No. I ain’t runnin’ this time. She couldn’t get me before and she’s tryin’ through an animal , eh?”
    “Will you look at the size of the horn on that thing?”
    “I can see clear enough,” said Granny calmly.
    The unicorn lowered its head and charged. Nanny Ogg reached the nearest tree with low branches and leapt upward…
    Granny Weatherwax folded her arms.
    “Come on , Esme!”
    “No. I ain’t been thinking clear enough, but I am now. There’s some things I don’t have to run from.”
    The white shape bulleted down the avenue of trees, a thousand pounds of muscle behind twelve inches of glistening horn. Steam swirled behind it.
    “Esme!”
    Circle time was ending. Besides, she knew now why her mind had felt so unravelled, and that was a