Witches Abroad

do.” She flourished her broomstick. “Come, ladies.”
    She and Magrat grasped Granny’s elbows firmly and propelled her under the archway before her fuse burned out. Granny Weatherwax always held that you ought to count up to ten before losing your temper. No one knew why, because the only effect of this was to build up the pressure and make the ensuing explosion a whole lot worse.
    The witches didn’t stop until they were out of sight of the gate.
    “Now, Esme,” said Nanny soothingly, “you shouldn’t take it personal. And we are a bit mucky, you must admit. They were just doing their job, all right? How about that?”
    “They treated us as if we was ordinary people ,” said Granny, in a shocked voice.
    “This is foreign parts, Granny,” said Magrat. “Anyway, you said the men on the boat didn’t recognize the hat, either.”
    “But then I dint want ’em to,” said Granny. “That’s different.”
    “It’s just an…an incident, Granny,” said Magrat.
    “They were just stupid soldiers. They don’t even know a proper free-form hairstyle when they see it.”
    Nanny looked around. Crowds milled past them, almost in silence.
    “And you must admit it’s a nice clean city,” she said.
    They took stock of their surroundings.
    It was certainly the cleanest place they’d ever seen. Even the cobblestones had a polished look.
    “You could eat your tea off the street,” said Nanny, as they strolled along.
    “Yes, but you’d eat your tea off the street anyway,” said Granny.
    “I wouldn’t eat all of it. Even the gutters are scrubbed. Not a Ronald * in sight, look.”
    “Gytha!”
    “Well, you said that in Ankh-Morpork—”
    “This is somewhere else!”
    “It’s so spotless,” said Magrat. “Makes you wish you’d cleaned your sandals.”
    “Yeah.” Nanny Ogg squinted along the street. “Makes you wish you were a better person, really.”
    “Why are you two whispering?” said Granny.
    She followed their gaze. There was a guard standing on the street corner. When he saw them looking at him he touched his helmet and gave them a brief smile.
    “Even the guards are polite,” said Magrat.
    “And there’s so many of them, too,” said Granny.
    “Amazing, really, needing all these guards in a city where people are so clean and quiet,” said Magrat.
    “Perhaps there’s so much niceness to be spread around they need a lot of people to do it,” said Nanny Ogg.
    The witches wandered through the packed streets.
    “Nice houses, though,” said Magrat. “Very decorative and olde-worlde.”
    Granny Weatherwax, who lived in a cottage that was as olde-worlde as it was possible to be without being a lump of metamorphic rock, made no comment.
    Nanny Ogg’s feet started to complain.
    “We ought to find somewhere to stop the night,” she said. “We can look for this girl in the morning. We’ll all do a lot better for a good night’s sleep.”
    “And a bath,” said Magrat. “With soothing herbs.”
    “Good idea. I could just go a bath too,” said Nanny.
    “My word, doesn’t autumn roll around quickly,” said Granny sourly.
    “Yeah? When did you last have a bath, Esme?”
    “What do you mean, last ?”
    “See? Then there’s no call to make comments about my ablutions.”
    “Baths is unhygienic,” Granny declared. “You know I’ve never agreed with baths. Sittin’ around in your own dirt like that.”
    “What do you do, then?” said Magrat.
    “I just washes,” said Granny. “All the bits. You know. As and when they becomes available.”

    However available they were, and no further information was vouchsafed on this point, they were certainly more available than accommodation in Genua in Fat Lunchtime.
    All the taverns and inns were more than full. Gradually the press of crowds pushed them out of the main streets and into the less fashionable quarters of the city, but still there was no room for the three of them.
    Granny Weatherwax had had enough.
    “The very next place we see,” she said, setting her jaw firmly, “we’re goin’ in. What’s that inn over there?”
    Nanny Ogg peered at the sign.
    “Hotel…No…Va…cancies,” she muttered, and then brightened up. “Hotel Nova Cancies,” she repeated. “That means ‘new, er, Cancies’ in foreign,” she added helpfully.
    “It’ll do,” said Granny.
    She pushed open the door. A round, red-faced man looked up from the desk. He was new to the job and very nervous; the last incumbent had disappeared for