She held the jar over the centre of the hole and let it go. Then she slammed the lid back down.

Young Esme gurgled in the corner. Magrat hurried over to her and shook a rattle.

'Look at the pretty bunny rabbit,' she said, and darted back again.

There was whispering on the other side of the door. Then Nanny Ogg's voice said, 'It's all right, dear, we've got them. You can open the door now. Lawks.'

Magrat rolled her eyes.

'Is that really you, Nanny?'

'That's right, dear.'

'Thank goodness. Just tell me the joke about the old woman, the priest and the rhinoceros then and I'll let you in.'

There was a pause, and some more whispering.

'I don't think We've got time for that, dear,' said the voice.

'Ha ha, nice try,' said Magrat. 'I've dropped one of you in the river! Who was it?'

After some silence the voice of the Count said, 'We thought the Countess could persuade you to listen to reason.'

'Not in a jar she can't,' said Magrat. 'And I've got more jars if you want to try it again!'

'We had hoped that you would be sensible about this,' said the Count. 'However...'

The door slammed back, pulling the bolts out of the wall.

Magrat grabbed the baby and stepped backwards, her other hand raised.

'You come near me and I'll stab you with this!' she shouted.

'It's a teddybear,' said the Count. 'I'm afraid it wouldn't work, even if you sharpened it.'

The door was so hard that the wood was like stone with a grain. Someone had once thought hard about the maximum amount of force a really determined mob would be able to apply, and had then overdesigned.

It hung open.

'But we heard her put the bars across!' wailed Nanny.

A variously coloured lump was sprawled in front of the door. Igor knelt down and picked up a limp paw.

'They've killed Thcrapth! The bathtardth!'

'They've got Magrat and the babby!' snapped Nanny.

'He wath my only friend!'

Nanny's arm shot out and, despite his bulk, Igor was lifted up by his collar.

'You're going to have one very serious enemy really soon, my lad, unless you help us out right now! Oh, for heaven's sake...' With her spare hand she reached into her knickerleg and produced a large crumpled handkerchief. 'Have a good blow, will you?'

There was a noise like a foghorn being trodden on.

'Now, where would they take them? The place is swarming with righteous peasants!' said Nanny, when he'd finished.

'He wath alwayth ready with hith waggy tailth and hith cold nothe-' Igor sobbed.

'Where, Igor?'

Igor pointed with his finger, or at least one that he currently owned, to the far door.

'That goeth to the vaultth,' he said. 'An' they can get out through the iron gate down in the valley. You'll never catch them!'

'But it's still bolted,' said Agnes.

'Then they're thtill in the cathle, which ith thtupid-'

He was interrupted by several huge organ chords, which made the floor rumble.

'Any of the Escrow folk big musicians?' said Nanny, lowering Igor.

'How do I know?' said Agnes, as another couple of descending chords brought dust down from the ceiling. 'They wanted to hammer a stake in me and boil my head! That is not the time to ask them to give a little whistle!'

The organ piped its summons once more.

'Why'd they stay?' said Nanny. 'They could be dug in deep somewhere by now- Oh...'

'Granny wouldn't run,' said Agnes.

'No, Granny Weatherwax likes a showdown,' said Nanny, grinning artfully. 'And they're thinkin' like her. Somehow she's making them think like her...'

'She thinks like her, too,' said Agnes.

'Let's hope she's had more practice, then,' said Nanny. 'Come on!'

Lacrimosa pulled an organ stop marked 'Ghastly Face at Window' and was rewarded with a chord, a crash of thunder and a slightly mechanical scream.

'Thank goodness we don't take after your side of the family, Father, that's all I can say,' she said. 'Although I suppose it could be fun if we could arrange some sort of mechanical linkage to the torture chamber. That certainly wasn't a very realistic scream.'

'This is ridiculous,' said Vlad. 'We've got the child. We've got the woman. Why don't we just leave? There're plenty of other castles.'

'That would be running away,' said the Count.

'And surviving,' said Vlad, rubbing his head.

'We don't run,' said the Count. 'And- No, step back, please...'

This was to the mob, which was hovering uncertainly just inside the doors. Mobs become uncertain very quickly, in view of the absence of a central brain, and in this case the hesitation was caused by the sight of Magrat and the baby.

Vlad had a bruise on his forehead. A push-and-go wooden duck on wheels can cause quite a lot of damage if wielded with enough force.

'Well done,' said the Count, cradling baby Esme on one arm. Magrat writhed to escape the grip of his other hand, but it clamped her wrist like steel. 'You see? Absolute obedience. It's just as in chess. If you take the Queen, you've as good as won. It doesn't matter if a few pawns are lost.'

'That's a very nasty way to talk about Mother,' said Vlad.

'I am very attached to your mother,' said the Count. 'And she'll find a way to return, in the fullness of time. A voyage will be good for her health. Some fisherman will find the jar and next thing you know she'll be back with us, fat and healthy- Ah, the inestimable Mrs Ogg...'

'Don't you go smarming me!' snapped Nanny, pushing her way. through the bewildered crowd. 'I'm fed up with you smarming at me smarmily as if you were Mister Smarm! Now you just free the both of them or-'

'Ah, so quickly we get to or,' sighed the Count. 'But I will say: you will all leave the castle, and then we shall see. Perhaps we shall let the Queen go. But the little princess... Isn't she charming? She can remain as our guest. She'll brighten the place up-'

'She's coming back to Lancre with us, you bastard!' screamed Magrat. She twisted in the Count's grip and tried to slap him, but Agnes saw her face whiten as his hand tightened on her wrist.

'That's very bad language for a queen,' said the Count. 'And I am still very strong, even for a vampire. But you're right. We shall all go back to Lancre. One big happy family, living in the castle. I must say, this place is losing its attractions. Oh, don't blame yourself, Mrs Ogg. I'm sure others will do that for you-'

He stopped. A sound that had been on the edge of hearing was getting louder. It had a rhythmic, almost tinny sound.

The crowd parted. Granny Weatherwax walked forward, slowly stirring.

'No milk in this place,' she said. 'Not to be wondered at, really. I sliced a bit of lemon, but it's not the same, I always think.'

She laid the spoon in the saucer with a clink that echoed around the hall, and gave the Count a smile.

'Am I too late?' she said.

The bolts rattled back, one by one.

'... 'th gone too far,' Igor muttered. 'The old marthter wouldn't...'

The door creaked back on lovingly rusted hinges. Cool dry air puffed out of the darkness.

Igor fumbled with some matches and lit a torch.

'... it'th all very well wanting a nithe long retht, but thith ith a dithgrathe...'

He ran along the dark corridors, half rough masonry, half sheer naked rock, and reached another chamber that was completely empty apart from a large stone sarcophagus in the centre, on the side of which was carved MAGPYR.

He stuffed the torch into a bracket, removed his coat and after considerable pushing heaved the stone lid aside.

'Thorry about thith, marthter,' he grunted as it thudded to the ground.

Inside the coffin grey dust twinkled in the torchlight.

'... coming up here, mething everything up...' Igor picked up his coat and took a thick wad of material out of his pocket. He unrolled it on the edge of the stone,. Now the light glinted off an array of scalpels, scissors and needles.