“But you got to have a fanfare, miss.”
“One can blow my own trumpet, thank you.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Miss what?”
“Miss Queen.”
“And don't you forget it.”
Magrat arrived at as near to a run as was possible in the queen outfit, which ought to have had castors.
She found a circle of several hundred people and, near the edge, a very pensive Nanny Ogg.
“What's happening, Nanny?”
Nanny turned.
“Oops, sorry. Didn't hear no fanfare,” she said. “I'd curtsy, only it's my legs.”
Magrat looked past her at the two seated figures in the circle.
“What're they doing?”
“Staring contest.”
“But they're looking at the sky.”
“Bugger that Diamanda girl! She's got Esme trying to outstare the sun,” said Nanny Ogg. “No looking away, no blinking. . .”
“How long have they been doing it?”
“About an hour,” said Nanny gloomily.
“That's terrible!”
“It's bloody stupid is what it is,” said Nanny. “Can't think what's got into Esme. As if power's all there is to witching! She knows that. Witching's not power, it's how you harness it.”
There was a pale gold haze over the circle, from magical fallout.
“They'll have to stop at sunset,” said Magrat.
“Esme won't last until sunset,” said Nanny. “Look at her. All slumped up.”
“I suppose you couldn't use some magic to-” Magrat began.
“Talk sense,” said Nanny. “If Esme found out, she'd kick me round the kingdom. Anyway, the others'd spot it.”
“Perhaps we could create a small cloud or something?” said Magrat.
“No! That's cheating!”
“Well, you always cheat.”
“I cheat for myself. You can't cheat for other people.”
Granny Weatherwax slumped again.