'That's right, that's right,' said Oats gratefully. 'I nearly hurt my ankle back there as it is.'

'I've always said young people today don't have the stamina,' said Granny, as if testing out an idea.

'That's right, we don't have the stamina.'

'And your eyesight is prob'ly not as good as mine owin' to too much readin',' said Granny.

'Blind as a bat, that's right.'

'All right.'

And so, at cross purposes and lurching occasionally, they reached the stables.

The mule shook its head at Granny Weatherwax when they arrived at its loose box. It knew trouble when it saw her.

'It's a bit cantankerous,' said Oats.

'Is it?' said Granny. 'Then we shall see what we can do.'

She walked unsteadily over to the creature and pulled one of its ears down to the level of her mouth. She whispered something. The mule blinked.

'That's sorted out, then,' she said. 'Help me up.'

'Just let me put the bridle on-'

'Young man, I might be temp'ry not at my best, but when I need a bridle on any creature they can put me to bed with a shovel. Give me a hand up, and kindly avert your face whilst so doing.'

Oats gave up and made a stirrup of his hands to help her into the saddle.

'Why don't I come with you?'

'There's only one mule. Anyway, you'd be a hindrance. I'd be worrying about you all the time.'

She slid gently off the other side of the saddle and landed in the straw. The wowhawk fluttered up and perched on a beam, and if Oats had been paying attention he'd have wondered how a hooded bird could fly so confidently.

'Drat!'

'Madam, I do know something about medicine! You are in no state to ride anything!'

'Not right now, I admit,' said Granny, her voice slightly muffled. She pulled some straw away from her face and waved a hand wildly to be helped up. 'But you just wait until I find my feet...'

'All right! All right! Supposing I ride and you hang on behind me? You can't weigh more than the harmonium, and I managed that all right.'

Granny looked owlishly at him. She seemed drunk, at that stage when hitherto unconsidered things seem a good idea, like another drink. Then she appeared to reach a decision.

'Oh... if you insist..'

Oats found a length of rope and, after some difficulties caused by Granny's determined belief that she was doing him some sort of favour, got her strapped into a pillion position.

'Just so long as you understand that I didn't ax you to come along and I don't need your help,' said Granny.

Ax.

'Ask, then,' said Granny. 'Slipped into a bit of rural there.'

Oats stared ahead for a while. Then he dismounted, lifted Granny down, propped her up while she protested, disappeared into the night, came back shortly carrying the axe from the forge, used more rope to tie it to his waist, and mounted up again.

'You're learnin',' said Granny.

As they left she raised an arm. The wowhawk fluttered down and settled on her wrist.

The air in the rocking coach was acquiring a distinct personality.

Magrat sniffed. 'I'm sure I changed Esme not long ago...'

After a fruitless search of the baby they looked under the seat. Greebo was lying asleep with his legs in the air.

'Isn't that just like him?' said Nanny. 'He can't see an open door without going through it, bless 'im. And he likes to be near his mum.'

'Could we open a window?' said Magrat.

'The rain'll get in.'

'Yes, but the smell will go out.' Magrat sighed. 'You know, we've left at least one bag of toys. Verence was really very keen on those mobiles.'

'I still think it's a bit early to start the poor little mite on education,' said Nanny, as much to take Magrat's mind off the current dangers as from a desire to strike a blow for ignorance.

'Environment is so very important,' said Magrat solemnly.

'Did I hear he told you to read improvin' books

and listen to posh music while you were expecting?' said Nanny, as the coach rushed through a puddle.

'Well, the books were all right, but the piano doesn't work properly- and all I could hear was Shawn practising the trumpet solo,' said Magrat.

'It's not his fault if no one wants to join in,' said Nanny. She steadied herself as the coach lurched. 'Good turn of speed on this thing.'

'I wish we hadn't forgotten the bath, too,' Magrat mused. 'And I think we left the bag with the toy farm. And we're low on nappies...'

'Let's have a look at her,' Nanny said.

Baby Esme was passed across the swaying coach.

'Yes, let's have a look at you...' said Nanny.

The small blue eyes focused on Nanny Ogg. The pink face on the small lolling head gave her a speculative look, working out whether she'd do as a drink or a toilet.

'That's good, at this age,' said Nanny. 'Focusing like that. Unusual in a babby.'

'If she is at this age,' said Magrat darkly.

'Hush, now. If Granny's in there she's not interfering. She never interferes. Anyway, it wouldn't be her mind in there, that's not how she works it.'

'What is it, then?'

'You've seen her do it. What do you think?'

'I'd say... all the things that make her her,' Magrat ventured.

'That's about right. She wraps 'em all up and puts 'em somewhere safe.'

'You know how she can even be silent in her own special way.'

'Oh, yes. No one can be quiet like Esme. You can hardly hear yourself think for the silence.'

They bounced in their seats as the coach sprang in and out of a pothole.

'Nanny?'

'Yes, love?'

'Verence will be all right, won't he?'

'Yep. I'd trust them little devils with anything except a barrel of stingo or a cow. Even Granny says the Kelda's damn good-'

'The Kelda?'

'Sort of a wise lady. I think the current one's called Big Aggie. You don't see much of their women. Some say there's only ever one at a time, and she's the Kelda an' has a hundred kids at a go.'

'That sounds... very...' Magrat began.

'Nah, I reckons they're a bit like the dwarfs and there's hardly any difference except under the loincloth,' said Nanny.

'I expect Granny knows,' said Magrat.

'And she ain't sayin',' said Nanny. 'She says it's their business.'

'And... he'll be all right with them?'

'Oh, yes.'

'He's very... kind, you know.' Magrat 's sentence hung in the air.

'That's nice.'

'And a good king, as well.'

Nanny nodded.

'It's just that I wish people took him... more seriously,' Magrat went on.

'It's a shame,' said Nanny.

'He does work very hard. And he worries about

everything. But people just seem to ignore him.'

Nanny wondered how to approach it.

'He could try having the crown taken in a bit,' she ventured, as the coach bounced over another rut. 'There's plenty of dwarfs up at Copperhead'd be glad to make it smaller for him.'

'It is the traditional crown, Nanny.'

'Yes, but if it wasn't for his ears it'd be a collar on the poor man,' said Nanny. 'He could try bellowing a bit more, too.'

'Oh, he couldn't do that, he hates shouting!'

'That's a shame. People like to see a bit of bellowing in a king. The odd belch is always popular, too. Even a bit of carousing'd help, if he could manage it. You know, quaffing and such.'

'I think he thinks that isn't what people want. He's very conscious of the needs of today's citizen.'

'Ah, well, I can see where there's a problem, then,' said Nanny. 'People need something today but they generally need something else tomorrow. Just tell him to concentrate on bellowing and carousing.'

'And belching?'

'That's optional.'

'And...'

'Yes, dear?'

'He'll be all right, will he?'

'Oh, yes. Nothing's going to happen to him. It's like that chess stuff, see? Let the Queen do the fightin', 'cos if you lose the King you've lost everything.'