Lords and Ladies

shorter than a wet cowpat. * It was better to think that something of her had rubbed off on the helmet and was being transmitted to Magrat like some kind of royal scalp disease. It was better to let Ynci take over.
    She grabbed Weaver by his collar.
    “If you say ‘Er’ one more time,” she said, “I’ll chop your ears off.”
    “Er…aargh…I mean, miss…it’s the Lords and Ladies, miss!”
    “It really is the elves?”
    “Miss!” said Weaver, his eyes full of pleading. “Don’t say it! We heard ’em go down the street. Dozens of ’em. And they’ve stolen old Thatcher’s cow and Skindle’s goat and they broke down the door of—”
    “Why’d you put a bowl of milk out?” Magrat demanded.
    Weaver’s mouth opened and shut a few times. Then he managed: “You see, my Eva said her granny always put a bowl of milk out for them, to keep them hap—”
    “I see,” said Magrat, icily. “And the king?”
    “The king, miss?” said Weaver, buying time.
    “The king,” said Magrat. “Short man, runny eyes, ears that stick out a bit, unlike other ears in this vicinity very shortly.”
    Weaver’s fingers wove around one another like tormented snakes.
    “Well…well…well…”
    He caught the look on Magrat’s face, and sagged.
    “We done the play,” he said. “I told ’em, let’s do the Stick and Bucket Dance instead, but they were set on this play. And it all started all right and then, and then, and then…suddenly They were there, hundreds of ’em, and everyone was runnin’, and someone bashed into me, and I rolled into the stream, and then there was all this noise, and I saw Jason Ogg hitting four elves with the first thing he could get hold of—”
    “Another elf?”
    “Right, and then I found Eva and the kids, and then lots of people were running like hell for home, and there were these—Gentry on horseback, and I could hear ’em laughing, and we got home and Eva said to put a horseshoe on the door and—”
    “What about the king?”
    “Dunno, miss. Last I remember, he was laughin’ at Thatcher in his straw wig.”
    “And Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax? What happened to them?”
    “Dunno, miss. Don’t remember seein’ ’em, but there was people runnin’ everywhere—”
    “And where was all this?”
    “Miss?”
    “Where did it happen?” said Magrat, trying to speak slowly and distinctly.
    “Up at the Dancers, miss. You know. Them old stones.”
    Magrat let him go.
    “Oh, yes,” she said. “Don’t tell Magrat, Magrat’s not to know about this sort of thing. The Dancers? Right.”
    “It wasn’t us, miss! It was only make-believe!”
    “Hah!”
    She unbolted the door again.
    “Where’re you going, miss?” said Weaver, who was not a competitor in the All-Lancre Uptake Stakes.
    “Where d’you think?”
    “But, miss, you can’t take iron—”
    Magrat slammed the door. Then she kicked the bowl of milk so hard that it sprayed across the street.

    Jason Ogg crawled cautiously through the dripping bracken. There was a figure a few feet away. He hefted the stone in his hand—
    “Jason?”
    “Is that you, Weaver?”
    “No, it’s me—Tailor.”
    “Where’s everyone else?”
    “Tinker’n Baker found Carpenter just now. Have you seen Weaver?”
    “No, but I saw Carter and Thatcher.”
    Mist curled up as the rain drummed into the warm earth. The seven surviving Morris Men crawled under a dripping bush.
    “There’s going to be hell to pay in the morning!” moaned Carter. “When she finds us we’re done for!”
    “We’ll be all right if we can find some iron,” said Jason.
    “Iron don’t have no effect on her! She’ll tan our hides for us!”
    Carter clutched his knees to his chest in terror.
    “Who?”
    “Mistress Weatherwax!”
    Thatcher jabbed him in the ribs. Water cascaded off the leaves above them and funneled down every neck.
    “Don’t be so daft! You saw them things! What’re you worrying about that old baggage for?”
    “She’ll tan our hides for us, right enough! ’Twas all our fault, she’ll say!”
    “I just hopes she gets a chance,” muttered Tinker.
    “We are,” said Thatcher, “between a rock and a hard place.”
    “No we ain’t,” sobbed Carter. “I been there. That’s that gorge just above Bad Ass. We ain’t there! I wish we was there! We’re under this bush! And they’ll be looking for us! And so shall she!”
    “What happened when we was doing the Ent—” Carpenter began.
    “I ain’t asking that