'What is he?' said Magrat.

'They're gnomes,' said Nanny.

The man lowered the thimble. 'Pictsies!'

'Pixies, if you insist,' said Nanny. 'They live up on the high moors over towards Uberwald-'

'Ach! Bae, yon snae rikt speel, y'ol behennit! Feggersl Yon ken sweal boggin bludsuckers owl dhu tae-'

Nanny nodded while she listened. Halfway through the little man's rant she topped up his thimble.

'Ah, right,' she said, when he seemed to have finished. 'Well, he says the Nac mac Feegle have been forced out by the vampires, see? They've been driving out all the...' her lips

moved as she tried out various translations '... old people...'

'That's very cruel!' said Magrat.

'No... I mean... old races. The people that live in... the corners. You know, the ones you don't see around a lot... centaurs, bogeys, gnomes-'

'Pictsies!'

'Yeah, right... driving 'em out of the country.'

'Why should they do that?'

'Probably not fashionable any more,' said Nanny.

Agnes looked hard at the pixie. On a scale of ethereal from one to ten he looked as if he was on some other scale, probably one buried in deep ocean sludge. The blueness of his skin, she could see now, was made up of tattoos and paint. His red hair stuck out at all angles. His sole concession to the temperature was a leather loincloth. He saw her looking at him.

'Yist, awa' fra' yeeks, ye stawking gowt that'ya! Bigjobs!'

'Er, sorry,' said Agnes.

'Good language, ain't it?' said Nanny. 'A hint o' heather and midden. But when you've got the Nac mac Feegle on your side you're doing okay.'

The pixie waved the empty thimble at Nanny.

'Ghail o' bludy "lemonade", callyake I'

'Ah, no foolin' you, you want the real stuff,' said Nanny. She pulled back a chair cushion, and produced a black glass bottle with its cork held on by wire.

'You're not giving him that, are you?' said Magrat. 'That's your medicinal whisky!'

'And you always tell people it's strictly for extemal use only,' said Agnes.

'Ah, the Nac mac Feegle are a hard-headed race,' said Nanny, handing it down to the tiny man. To Agnes's amazement, he grasped a bottle bigger than himself with insolent ease. 'There you go, man. Share it with your mates, 'cos I know they're around here somewhere.'

There was a clink from the dresser. The witches looked up. Hundreds of pixies had simply appeared among the ornaments. Most of them wore pointed hats that curved so that the point was practically pointing down, and they all carried swords.

'Amazin' how they can just fade into the foreground like that,' said Nanny. 'That's what's kept 'em so safe all these years. That and killin' most people who saw 'em, of course.'

Greebo, very quietly, went and sat under her chair.

'So... you gentlemen have been turned out by the vampires, have ye?' said Nanny, as the bottle bobbed through the throng. A roar went up.

'Blaznet!'

'Ach, yon weezit fash' deveel!'

'Arnoch, a hard tickut!'

'Bigjobs!'

'I daresay you can stop in Lancre,' said Nanny, above the din.

'Just a moment, Nanny-' Magrat began.

Nanny waved a hand at her hurriedly. 'There's that island up on the lake,' she went on, raising her voice. 'It's where the herons nest. Just the place, eh? Lots of fish, lots of hunting up the valley.'

The blue pixies went into a huddle. Then one of them looked up.

'Priznae? Yowl's nae brennit, moy ghail!'

'Oh, you'd be left to yourself,' said Nanny. 'But no stealing cattle, eh?'

'These steal cattle?' said Agnes. 'Full-size cattle? How many of them does it take?'

'Four.'

'Four?'

'One under each foot. Seen 'em do it. You see a cow in a field, mindin' its own business, next minute the grass is rustlin', some little bugger shouts, "Hup, hup, hup," and the poor beast goes past voom! without its legs movin',' said Nanny. 'They're stronger'n cockroaches. You step on a pixie, you'd better be wearing good thick soles.'

'Nanny, you can't give them the island! It doesn't belong to you!' said Magrat.

'It doesn't belong to anyone,' said Nanny.

'It belongs to the King!'

'Ah. Well, what's his is yours, so give 'em the island and Verence can sign a bit o' paper later on. It's worth it,' Nanny added. 'A rent of not stealing our cows is well worth it. Otherwise you'll see cows zippin' around very fast. Backwards, sometimes.'

'Without their legs moving?' said Agnes.

'Right!'

'Well-' Magrat began.

'And they'll be useful,' Nanny added, lowering her voice. 'Fighting's what they like best.'

'Whist, yon fellaight fra' aquesbore!'

'Drinkin's what they like best,' Nanny corrected herself.

'Nae, boon a scullen!'

'Drinkin' and fightin's what they like best,' said Nanny.

'An' snaflin' coobeastie.'

'And stealing cows,' said Nanny. 'Drinkin', fightin' and stealin' cows is what they like best. Listen, Magrat, I'd rather have 'em in here pissin' out than outside pissin' in. There's more of them and they'll make your ankles all wet.'

'But what can they do?' said Magrat.

'Well... Greebo's frightened of 'em,' said Nanny.

Greebo was two worried eyes, one yellow, one pearly white, in the shadows. The witches were impressed. Greebo had once brought down an elk. There was practically nothing that he wouldn't attack, including architecture.

'I'd have thought they'd have no trouble with vampires, then,' said Agnes.

'Ach, c'na flitty-flitty! Ye think we're flowers o' the forest fairies?' sneered a blue man.

'They can't fly,' said Nanny.

'It's quite a nice island, even so...' Magrat mumbled.

'Gel, your husband was messin' around with politics, which is why we're in this trouble, and to get you've got to give. Now he's ill and you're Queen so you can do as you like, right? There's no one who can tell you what to do, isn't that so?'

'Yes, I suppos-'

'So damn well give 'em the island and then they've got somethin' here to fight for. Otherwise they'll just push on through anyway and nick all our livestock on the way. Dress that up in fancy talk, and you've got politics.'

'Nanny?' said Agnes.

'Yup?'

'Don't get angry, but you don't think Granny's doing this on purpose, do you? Keeping back, I mean, so that we have to form a three and work together?'

'Why'd she do that?'

'So we develop insights and pull together and learn valuable lessons,' said Magrat.

Nanny paused with her pipe halfway to her lips. 'No,' she said, 'I don't reckon Granny'd be thinking like that, because that's soppy garbage. Here, you blokes... here's the key to the drinks cupboard in the scullery. Bugger off and have fun, don't touch the stuff in the green bottles because it's- Oh, I expect you'll be all right.'

There was a blue blur, and the room was cleared.

'We got things Granny ain't got,' said Nanny.

'Yes?' said Agnes.

'Magrat's got a baby. I've got no scruples. And we've both got you.'

'What good will I be?'

'Well, for one thing... you're in two minds about everything-'

There was a tinkle of glass from the scullery, and a scream of 'Ach, ya skivens! Yez lukin' at a faceful o' heid!'

'Crives! Sezu? Helweit! Summun hol' me cote! Gude! Now, summun hol' his arms!'

'Stitch this, f'ra ma brinnit goggel!' Some more glass broke.

'We'll all go back into the castle,' said Nanny. 'On our terms. Face this count down. And we'll take garlic and lemons and all the other stuff. And some of Mr Oats's holy water. You can't tell me all that stuff together won't work.'

'And they'll let us in, will they?' said Agnes.

'They'll have a lot to think about,' said Nanny. 'What with a mob at the gates. We can nip in round the back.'

'What mob?' said Magrat.

'We'll organize one,' said Nanny.