Lords and Ladies

to me all the time!”
    “That’s the best thing about black, it doesn’t show the soot,” said Nanny Ogg vaguely, dusting herself off. “They managed it, then. Esme was right. Wonder where she is? Oh, well. Come on.”
    “Where’re we going?” said the dwarf.
    “Down to my cottage.”
    “Ah!”
    “To get my broomstick,” said Nanny Ogg firmly. “I ain’t having the Queen of the Fairies ruling my children. So we’d better get some help. This has gone too far.”
    “We could go up into the mountains,” said Casanunda, as they crept down the stairs. “There’s thousands of dwarfs up there.”
    “No,” said Nanny Ogg. “Esme won’t thank me for this, but I’m the one who has to wave the bag o’ sweets when she overreaches herself…and I’m thinking about someone who really hates the Queen.”
    “You won’t find anyone who hates her worse than dwarfs do,” said Casanunda.
    “Oh, you will,” said Nanny Ogg, “if you knows where to look.”

    The elves had been into Nanny Ogg’s cottage, too. There weren’t two pieces of furniture left whole.
    “What they don’t take they smash,” said Nanny Ogg.
    She stirred the debris with her foot. Glass tinkled.
    “That vase was a present from Esme,” she said, to the unfeeling world in general. “Never liked it much.”
    “Why’d they do it?” said Casanunda, looking around.
    “Oh, they’d smash the world if they thought it’d make a pretty noise,” said Nanny. She stepped outside again and felt around under the eaves of the low thatched roof, and pulled out her broomstick with a small grunt of triumph.
    “I always shove it up there,” she said, “otherwise the kids nick it and go joy-riding. You ride behind me, and I say this against my better judgement.”
    Casanunda shuddered. Dwarfs are generally scared of heights, since they don’t often have the opportunity to get used to them.
    Nanny scratched her chin, making a sandpapery sound.
    “And we’ll need a crowbar,” she said. “There’ll be one in Jason’s forge. Hop on, my lad.”
    “I really wasn’t expecting this,” said Casanunda, feeling his way on to the broomstick with his eyes shut. “I was looking forward to a convivial evening, just me and you.”
    “It is just me and you.”
    “Yes, but I hadn’t assumed there’d be a broomstick involved.”
    The stick left the ground slowly. Casanunda clung miserably to the bristles.
    “Where’re we going?” he said weakly.
    “Place I know, up in the hills,” said Nanny. “Ages since I’ve been there. Esme won’t go near it, and Magrat’s too young to be tole. I used to go there a lot, though. When I was a girl. Girls used to go up there if they wanted to get—oh, bugger…”
    “What?”
    “Thought I saw something fly across the moon, and I’m damn sure it wasn’t Esme.”
    Casanunda tried to look around while keeping his eyes shut.
    “Elves can’t fly,” he muttered.
    “That’s all you know,” said Nanny. “They ride yarrow stalks.”
    “Yarrow stalks?”
    “Yep. Tried it meself, once. You can get some lift out of ’em, but it plays merry hell with the gussets. Give me a nice bundle of bristles every time. Anyway,” she nudged Casanunda, “you should be right at home on one of these. Magrat says a broomstick is one of them sexual metaphor things.” *
    Casanunda had opened one eye just long enough to see a rooftop drift silently below him. He felt sick.
    “The difference being,” said Nanny Ogg, “that a broomstick stays up longer. And you can use it to keep the house clean, which is more than you can say for—are you all right?”
    “I really don’t like this at all, Mrs. Ogg.”
    “Just trying to cheer you up, Mr. Casanunda.”
    “‘Cheer’ I like, Mrs. Ogg,” said the dwarf, “but can we avoid the ‘up’?”
    “Soon be down.”
    “ That I like.”
    Nanny Ogg’s boots scraped along the hard-packed mud of the smithy’s yard.
    “I’ll leave the magic running, won’t be a mo,” she said. Ignoring the dwarf’s bleat for help, she hopped off the stick and disappeared through the back door.
    The elves hadn’t been there, at least. Too much iron. She pulled a crowbar from the toolbench and hurried out again.
    “You can hold this,” she said to Casanunda. She hesitated. “Can’t have too much luck, can we?” she said, and scurried back into the forge. This time she was out again much faster, slipping something into her pocket.
    “Ready?” she said.
    “No.”
    “Then