Maskerade

flaming torches?” said Nanny.
    Several of them looked at her as if wondering, for the first time, who she was.
    “What?”
    “Got to have flaming torches when you’re tracking down evil monsters,” said Nanny. “Well-known fact.”
    There was a moment while this sunk in, and then:
    “That’s true.”
    “She’s right, you know.”
    “Well-known fact, dear.”
    “Did they have flaming torches?”
    “Don’t think so. Just ordinary lanterns.”
    “Oh, they’re no good,” said Nanny. “That’s for smugglers, lanterns. For evil monsters you need flaming—”
    “Excuse me, boys and girls!”
    The stage manager had stood on a box.
    “Now,” he said, a little pale around the face, “I know you’re all familiar with the phrase ‘the show must go on’…”
    There was a chorus of groans from the chorus.
    “It’s very hard to sing a jolly song about eating hedgehogs when you’re waiting for an accident to happen to you,” shouted a gypsy king.
    “Funny thing, if we’re talking about songs about hedgehogs, I myself—” Nanny began, but no one was paying her any attention.
    “Now, we don’t actually know what happened—”
    “Really? Shall we guess?” said a gypsy.
    “—but we have men up in the fly loft now—”
    “Oh? In case of more accidents ?”
    “—and Mr. Bucket has authorized me to say that there will be an additional two dollars’ bonus tonight in recognition of your bravely agreeing to continue with the show —”
    “Money? After a shock like this? Money? He thinks he can offer us a couple of dollars and we’ll agree to stay on this cursed stage?”
    “Shame!”
    “Heartless!”
    “Unthinkable!”
    “Should be at least four!”
    “Right! Right!”
    “For shame, my friends! To talk about a few dollars when there is a dead man lying there…Have you no respect for his memory?”
    “Exactly! A few dollars is disrespectful. Five dollars or nothing!”
    Nanny Ogg nodded to herself, and wandered off and found a sufficiently big piece of cloth to cover the late Dr. Undershaft.
    Nanny rather liked the theatrical world. It was its own kind of magic. That was why Esme disliked it, she reckoned. It was the magic of illusions and misdirection and foolery, and that was fine by Nanny Ogg, because you couldn’t be married three times without a little fooling. But it was just close enough to Granny’s own kind of magic to make Granny uneasy. Which meant she couldn’t leave it alone. It was like scratching an itch.
    People didn’t take any notice of little old ladies who looked as though they fitted in, and Nanny Ogg could fit in faster than a dead chicken in a maggot factory.
    Besides, Nanny had one additional little talent, which was a mind like a buzz saw behind a face like an elderly apple.
    Someone was crying.
    A strange figure was kneeling beside the late chorus master. It looked like a puppet with the strings cut.
    “Can you give me a hand with this sheet, mister?” said Nanny quietly.
    The face looked up. Two watery eyes, running with tears, blinked at Nanny. “He won’t wake up!”
    Nanny mentally changed gear. “That’s right, luv,” she said. “You’re Walter, ain’t you?”
    “He was always very good to me and our mum! He never gave me a kick!”
    It was obvious to Nanny that there was no help here. She knelt down and began to do her best with the departed.
    “Miss they say it were the Ghost miss! It weren’t the Ghost miss! He’d never do a thing like that! He was always good to me and our mum!”
    Nanny changed gear again. You had to slow down a bit for Walter Plinge.
    “My mum’d know what to do!”
    “Yes, well…she’s gone home early, Walter.”
    Walter’s waxy face started to contort into an expression of terminal horror.
    “She mustn’t walk home without Walter to look after her!” he shouted.
    “I bet she always says that,” said Nanny. “I bet she always makes sure her Walter’s with her when she goes home. But I expect that right now she’d want her Walter to just get on with things so’s she can be proud of him. Show’s not half over yet.”
    “’S dangerous for our mum!”
    Nanny patted his hand and absentmindedly wiped her own hand on her dress.
    “That’s a good boy,” she said. “Now, I’ve got to go off—”
    “The Ghost wouldn’t harm no one!”
    “Yes, Walter, only I’ve got to go but I’ll find someone to help you and you must put poor Dr. Undershaft somewhere safe until after the show. Understand? And