'You told everyone they were brothers and that Verence was the older!'
'That's right.'
'And you let everyone believe that—'
Granny Weatherwax pulled her shawl around her.
'We're bound to be truthful,' she said. 'But there's no call to be honest.'
'No, no, what you're saying is that the King of Lancre isn't really—'
'What I'm saying is,' said Granny firmly, 'that we've got a king who is no worse than most and better than many and who's got his head screwed on right—'
'Even if it is against the thread,' said Nanny.
'—and the old king's ghost has been laid to rest happy, there's been an enjoyable coronation and some of us got mugs we weren't entitled to, them being only for the kiddies and, all in all, things are a lot more satisfactory than they might be. That's what I'm saying. Never mind what should be or what might be or what ought to be. It's what things are that's important.'
'But he's not really a king!'
'He might be,' said Nanny.
'But you just said—'
'Who knows? The late queen wasn't very good at counting. Anyway, he doesn't know he isn't royalty.'
'And you're not going to tell him, are you?' said Granny Weatherwax.
Magrat stared at the moon, which had a few clouds across it.
'No,' she said.
'Right, then,' said Granny. 'Anyway, look at it like this. Royalty has to start somewhere. It might as well start with him. It looks as though he means to take it seriously, which is a lot further than most of them take it. He'll do.'
Magrat knew she had lost. You always lost against Granny Weatherwax, the only interest was in seeing exactly how. 'But I'm surprised at the two of you, I really am,' she said. 'You're witches. That means you have to care about things like truth and tradition and destiny, don't you?'
'That's where you've been getting it all wrong,' said Granny, 'Destiny is important, see, but people go wrong when they think it controls them. It's the other way around.'
'Bugger destiny,' agreed Nanny.
Granny glared at her.
'After all, you never thought being a witch was going to be easy, did you?'
'I'm learning,' said Magrat. She looked across the moor, where a thin rind of dawn glowed on the horizon.
'I think I'd better be off,' she said. 'It's getting early.'
'Me too,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Our Shirl frets if I'm not home when she comes to get my breakfast.'
Granny carefully scuffed over the remains of the fire.
'When shall we three meet again?' she said. 'Hmm?'
The witches looked at one another sheepishly.
'I'm a bit busy next month,' said Nanny. 'Birthdays and such. Er. And the work has really been piling up with all this hurly-burly. You know. And there's all the ghosts to think about.'
'I thought you sent them back to the castle,' said Granny.