Lords And Ladies Part 8

Jason poked at the fire distractedly with an iron bar.

"Oh, well, us had a big whirlwind on Hogswatchnight and one of Mother Peason's hens laid the same egg three times, and old Poorchick's cow gave birth to a seven-headed snake, and there was a rain of frogs over in Slice-"

"Been pretty normal, then," said Nanny Ogg. She refilled her pipe in a casual but meaningful way.

"All very quiet, really," said Jason. He pulled the bar out of the fire, laid it on the anvil, and raised his hammer.

"I'll find out sooner or later, you know," said Nanny Ogg.

Jason didn't turn his head, but his hammer stopped in mid-air.

"I always does, you know," said Nanny Ogg.

The iron cooled from the color of fresh straw to bright red.

"You knows you always feels better for telling your old mum," said Nanny Ogg.

The iron cooled from red to spitting black. But Jason, used all day to the searing heat of a forge, seemed to be uncomfortably warm.

"I should beat it up before it gets cold," said Nanny Ogg.

"Weren't my fault, Mum! How could I stop 'em?"

Nanny sat back in the chair, smiling happily.

"What them would these be, my son?"

"That young Diamanda and that Perdita and that girl with the red hair from over in Bad a.s.s and them others. I says says to old Peason, I says you'd have something to say, I to old Peason, I says you'd have something to say, I tole tole 'em Mistress Weatherwax'd get her knic-would definitely be sarcastic when she found out," said Jason. "But they just laughs. They said they could teach 'emselves witching." 'em Mistress Weatherwax'd get her knic-would definitely be sarcastic when she found out," said Jason. "But they just laughs. They said they could teach 'emselves witching."

Nanny nodded. Actually, they were quite right. You could could teach yourself witchcraft. But both the teacher and the pupil had to be the right kind of person. teach yourself witchcraft. But both the teacher and the pupil had to be the right kind of person.

"Diamanda?" she said. "Don't recall the name."

"Really she's Lucy Tockley," said Jason. "She says Diamanda is more...more witchy."

"Ah. The one that wears the big floppy felt hat?"

"Yes, Mum."

"She's the one that paints her nails black, too?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Old Tockley sent her off to school, didn't he?"

"Yes, Mum. She came back while you was gone."

"Ah."

Nanny Ogg lit her pipe from the forge. Floppy hat and black nails and education. Oh, dear.

"How many of these gels are there, then?" she said.

"Bout half a dozen. But they'm good good at it, Mum." at it, Mum."

"Yeah?"

"And it ain't as if they've been doing anything bad."

Nanny Ogg stared reflectively at the glow in the forge.

There was a bottomless quality to Nanny Ogg's silences. And also a certain directional component. Jason was quite clear that the silence was being aimed at him.

He always fell for it. He tried to fill it up.

"And that Diamanda's been properly educated," he said. "She knows some lovely words."

Silence.

"And I knows you've always said there weren't enough young girls interested in learnin' witching these days," said Jason. He removed the iron bar and hit it a few times, for the look of the thing.

More silence flowed in Jason's direction.

"They goes and dances up in the mountains every full moon."

Nanny Ogg removed her pipe and inspected the bowl carefully.

"People do say," said Jason, lowering his voice, "that they dances in the altogether."

"Altogether what?" said Nanny Ogg.

"You know, Mum. In the nudd."

"Cor. There's a thing. Anyone see where they go?"

"Nah. Weaver the thatcher says they always gives him the slip."

"Jason?"

"Yes, Mum?"

"They bin dancin' around the stones."

Jason hit his thumb.

There were a number of G.o.ds in the mountains and forests of Lancre. One of them was known as Herne the Hunted. He was a G.o.d of the chase and the hunt. More or less.

Most G.o.ds are created and sustained by belief and hope. Hunters danced in animal skins and created G.o.ds of the chase, who tended to be hearty and boisterous with the tact of a tidal wave. But they are not the only G.o.ds of hunting. The prey has an occult voice too, as the blood pounds and the hounds bay. Herne was the G.o.d of the chased and the hunted and all small animals whose ultimate destiny is to be an abrupt damp squeak.

He was about three feet high with rabbit ears and very small horns. But he did have an extremely good turn of speed, and was using it to the full as he tore madly through the woods.

"They're coming! They're coming! They're all coming back! They're all coming back!"

"Who are?" said Jason Ogg. He was holding his thumb in the water trough.

Nanny Ogg sighed.

"Them," she said. "You know. she said. "You know. Them Them. We ain't certain, but..."

"Who's Them?"

Nanny hesitated. There were some things you didn't tell ordinary people. On the other hand, Jason was a blacksmith, which meant he wasn't ordinary. Blacksmiths had to keep secrets. And he was family; Nanny Ogg had had an adventurous youth and wasn't very good at counting, but she was pretty certain he was her son.

"You see," she said, waving her hands vaguely, "them stones...the Dancers...see, in the old days...see, once upon a time..."

She stopped, and tried again to explain the essentially fractal nature of reality.

"Like...there's some places that're thinner thinner than others, where the old doorways used to be, well, not doorways, never exactly understood it myself, not doorways as such, more places where the world is than others, where the old doorways used to be, well, not doorways, never exactly understood it myself, not doorways as such, more places where the world is thinner thinner...Anyway, the thing is is, the Dancers...are a kind of fence...we, well, when I say we we I mean thousands of years ago...I mean, but they're not just stones, they're some kind of thunderbolt iron but...there's things like tides, only not with water, it's when worlds get closer together'n you can nearly step between 'em...anyway, if people've been hangin' around the stones, playin' around...then I mean thousands of years ago...I mean, but they're not just stones, they're some kind of thunderbolt iron but...there's things like tides, only not with water, it's when worlds get closer together'n you can nearly step between 'em...anyway, if people've been hangin' around the stones, playin' around...then They'll They'll be back, if we're not careful." be back, if we're not careful."

"What They?"

"That's the whole trouble," said Nanny, miserably. "If I tells you, you'll get it all wrong. They lives on the other side of the Dancers."

Her son stared at her. Then a faint grin of realization wandered across his face.

"Ah," he said. "I knows. I heard them wizards down in Ankh is always accidentally rippin' holes in this fabric o' reality they got down there, and you get them horrible things coming out o' the Dungeon Dimensions. Huge b.u.g.g.e.rs with dozens o' eyeb.a.l.l.s and more legs'n a Morris team." He gripped his No. 5 hammer. "Don't you worry, Mum. If they starts poppin' out here, we'll soon-"

"No, it ain't ain't like that," said Nanny. "Those live like that," said Nanny. "Those live outside outside. But Them lives...over there."

Jason looked completely lost.

Nanny shrugged. She'd have to tell someone, sooner or later.

"The Lords and Ladies," she said.

"Who're they?"

Nanny looked around. But, after all, this was a forge. There had been a forge here long before there was a castle, long before there was even a kingdom. There were horseshoes everywhere. Iron had entered the very walls. It wasn't just a place of iron, it was a place where iron died and was reborn. If you couldn't speak the words here, you couldn't speak 'em anywhere.

Even so, she'd rather not.

"You know," she said. "The Fair Folk. The Gentry. The s.h.i.+ning Ones. The Star People. know," she said. "The Fair Folk. The Gentry. The s.h.i.+ning Ones. The Star People. You You know." know."

"What?"

Nanny put her hand on the anvil, just in case, and said the word.

Jason's frown very gently cleared, at about the same speed as a sunrise.

"Them?" he said. "But aren't they nice and-?"

"See?" said Nanny. "I told told you you'd get it wrong!" you you'd get it wrong!"

"How much?" said Ridcully. much?" said Ridcully.

The coachman shrugged.

"Take it or leave it," he said.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Ponder Stibbons. "It's the only coach."

"Fifty dollars each is daylight robbery!"

"No," said the coachman patiently. "Daylight robbery," he said, in the authoritative tones of the experienced, "is when someone steps out into the road with an arrow pointing at us and then all his friends swings down from the rocks and trees and take away all our money and things. And then there's nighttime robbery, which is like daytime robbery except they set fire to the coach so's they can see what they're about. Twilight robbery, now, your basic twilight robbery is-"

"Are you saying," said Ridcully, "that getting robbed is included in the price price?"

"Bandits' Guild," said the coachman. "Forty dollars per head, see. It's a kind of flat rate."

"What happens if we don't pay it?" said Ridcully.

"You end up flat."

The wizards went into a huddle.

"We've got a hundred and fifty dollars," said Ridcully. "We can't get any more out of the safe because the Bursar ate the key yesterday."

"Can I try an idea, sir?" said Ponder.

"All right."

Ponder gave the coachman a bright smile.

"Pets travel free?" he suggested.

"Oook?"