Lords And Ladies Part 5

"Like what?"

"All the bracken and weeds is trampled around the stones. I reckon someone's been dancing. dancing."

Nanny Ogg gave this the same consideration as would a nuclear physicist who'd just been told that someone was banging two bits of sub-critical uranium together to keep warm.

"They never, never," she said.

"They have. And another thing..."

It was hard to imagine what other thing there could be, but Nanny Ogg said "Yes?" anyway.

"Someone got killed up here."

"Oh, no," moaned Nanny Ogg. "Not inside the circle too."

"Nope. Don't be daft. It was outside. A tall man. He had one leg longer'n the other. And a beard. He was probably a hunter."

"How'd you know all that?"

"I just trod on 'im."

The sun rose through the mists.

The morning rays were already caressing the ancient stones of Unseen University, premier college of wizardry, five hundred miles away.

Not that many wizards were aware of this.

For most of the wizards of Unseen University their lunch was the first meal of the day. They were not, by and large, breakfast people. The Archchancellor and the Librarian were the only two who knew what the dawn looked like from the front, and they tended to have the entire campus to themselves for several hours.

The Librarian was always up early because he was an orang-utan, and they are naturally early risers, although in his case he didn't bellow a few times to keep other males off his territory. He just unlocked the Library and fed the books.

And Mustrum Ridcully, the current Archchancellor, liked to wander around the sleepy buildings, nodding to the servants and leaving little notes for his subordinates, usually designed for no other purpose than to make it absolutely clear that he was up and attending to the business of the day while they were still fast asleep.*

Today, however, he had something else on his mind. More or less literally.

It was round. There was healthy growth all around it. He could swear it hadn't been there yesterday.

He turned his head this way and that, squinting at the reflection in the mirror of the other other mirror he was holding above his head. mirror he was holding above his head.

The next member of staff to wake up after Ridcully and the Librarian was the Bursar; not because he he was a naturally early riser, but because by around ten o'clock the Archchancellor's very limited supply of patience came to an end and he would stand at the bottom of the stairs and shout: was a naturally early riser, but because by around ten o'clock the Archchancellor's very limited supply of patience came to an end and he would stand at the bottom of the stairs and shout: "Bursaaar!"

-until the Bursar appeared.

In fact it happened so often that the Bursar, a natural neurovore,* frequently found that he'd got up and dressed himself in his sleep several minutes before the bellow. On this occasion he was upright and fully clothed and halfway to the door before his eyes snapped open. frequently found that he'd got up and dressed himself in his sleep several minutes before the bellow. On this occasion he was upright and fully clothed and halfway to the door before his eyes snapped open.

Ridcully never wasted time on small talk. It was always large talk or nothing.

"Yes, Archchancellor?" said the Bursar, glumly.

The Archchancellor removed his hat.

"What about this, then?" he demanded.

"Um, um, um...what, Archchancellor?" Archchancellor?"

"This, man! This!"

Close to panic, the Bursar stared desperately at the top of Ridcully's head.

"The what? Oh. The bald spot?"

"I have not not got a bald spot!" got a bald spot!"

"Um, then-"

"I mean it wasn't there yesterday!"

"Ah. Well. Um." At a certain point something always snapped inside the Bursar, and he couldn't stop himself. "Of course these things do happen and my grandfather always swore by a mixture of honey and horse manure, he rubbed it on every day-"

"I'm not not going bald!" going bald!"

A tic started to dance across the Bursar's face. The words started to come out by themselves, without the apparent intervention of his brain.

"-and then he got this device with a gla.s.s rod and, and, and you rubbed it with a silk cloth and-"

"I mean it's ridiculous! My family have never gone bald, except for one of my aunts!"

"-and, and, and then he'd collect morning dew and wash his head, and, and, and-"

Ridcully subsided. He was not an unkind man.

"What're you taking for it at the moment?" he murmured.

"Dried, dried, dried, dried," stuttered the Bursar.

"The old dried frog pills, right?"

"R-r-r-r."

"Left-hand pocket?"

"R-r-r-r."

"OK...right...swallow..."

They stared at one another for a moment.

The Bursar sagged.

"M-m-much better now, Archchancellor, thank you."

"Something's definitely happening, Bursar. I can feel it in my water."

"Anything you say, Archchancellor."

"Bursar?"

"Yes, Archchancellor?"

"You ain't a member of some secret society or somethin', are you?"

"Me? No, No, Archchancellor." Archchancellor."

"Then it'd be a d.a.m.n good idea to take your underpants off your head."

"Know him?" said Granny Weatherwax.

Nanny Ogg knew everyone in Lancre, even the forlorn thing on the bracken.

"It's William Scrope, from over Slice way," she said. "One of three brothers. He married that Palliard girl, remember? The one with the air-cooled teeth?"

"I hope the poor woman's got some respectable black clothes," said Granny Weatherwax.

"Looks like he's been stabbed," said Nanny. She turned the body over, gently but firmly. Corpses as such didn't worry her. Witches generally act as layers-out of the dead as well as midwives; there were plenty of people in Lancre for whom Nanny Ogg's face had been the first and last thing they'd ever seen, which had probably made all the bit in the middle seem quite uneventful by comparison.

"Right through," she said. "Stabbed right through. Blimey. Who'd do a thing like that?"

Both the witches turned to look at the stones.

"I don't know what what, but I knows where it come from," said Granny.

Now Nanny Ogg could see that the bracken all around the stones was indeed well trodden down, and quite brown.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," said Granny.

"You'd better not go into-"

"I knows exactly where I should go, thank you."

There were eight stones in the Dancers. Three of them had names. Granny walked around the ring until she reached the one known as the Piper.

She removed a hatpin from among the many that riveted her pointy hat to her hair and held it about six inches from the stone. Then she let it go, and watched what happened.

She went back to Nanny.

"There's still power there," she said. "Not much, but the ring is holding."

"But who'd be daft enough to come up here and dance around the stones?" said Nanny Ogg, and then, as a treacherous thought drifted across her mind, she added, "Magrat's been away with us the whole time."

"We shall have to find out," said Granny, setting her face in a grim smile. "Now help me up with the poor man."

Nanny Ogg bent to the task.

"Coo, he's heavy. We could've done with young Magrat up here."

"No. Flighty," said Granny Weatherwax. "Head easily turned."

"Nice girl, though."

"But soppy. She thinks you can lead your life as if fairy stories work and folk songs are really true. Not that I don't wish her every happiness."

"Hope she does all right as queen," said Nanny.

"We taught her everything she knows," said Granny Weatherwax.

"Yeah," said Nanny Ogg, as they disappeared into the bracken. "D'you think...maybe...?"

"What?"

"D'you think maybe we ought to have taught her everything we we know?" know?"

"It'd take too long."

"Yeah, right."

It took a while for letters to get as far as the Archchancellor. The post tended to be picked up from the University gates by anyone who happened to be pa.s.sing, and then left lying on a shelf somewhere or used as a pipe lighter or a bookmark or, in the case of the Librarian, as bedding.

This one had only taken two days, and was quite intact apart from a couple of cup rings and a bananary fingerprint. It arrived on the table along with the other post while the faculty were at breakfast. The Dean opened it with a spoon.

"Anyone here know where Lancre is?" he said.

"Why?" said Ridcully, looking up sharply.

"Some king's getting married and wants us to come."

"Oh dear, oh dear," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. "Some tinpot king gets wed and he wants us us to come?" to come?"