“Friend or Foe?”
“What?”
“It's what I've got to say, Mum. It's official. And then you've got to say Friend.”
“I'm your mum.”
“You've got to do it properly, Mum,” said Shawn, in the wretched tones of one who knows he's going to lose no matter what happens next, “otherwise what's the point?”
“It's going to be Foe in a minute, my lad.”
“Oooaaaww, Mum!”
“Oh, all right. Friend, then.”
“Yes, but you could just be saying that-”
“Let us in right now, Shawn Ogg.”
Shawn saluted, slightly stunning himself with the butt of his spear.
“Right you are. Mistress Weatherwax.”
His round, honest face disappeared from view. After a minute or two they heard the creaking of the portcullis.
“How did you do that?” said Nanny Ogg. “Simple,” said Granny. “He knows you wouldn't make his daft head explode.”
“Well, I know you wouldn't, too.”
“No you don't. You just know I ain't done it up to now.”
Magrat had thought this sort of thing was just a joke, but it was true. The castle's Great Hall had one long, one very long dining table, and she and Verence sat at either end of it.
It was all to do with etiquette.
The king had to sit at the head of the table. That was obvious. But if she sat on one side of him it made them both uneasy, because they had to keep turning to talk to each other. Opposite ends and shouting was the only way.
y reached over and gripped Diamanda's arm.
“Head for the gap between the Piper and the Drummer!”
“Which ones are they?”
“You don't even know that?”
Humans can outrun a horse, indeed. It was preying on Granny Weatherwax's mind that no one can outrun an arrow.
Something whined past her ear.
The circle of stones seemed as far away as ever.
Nothing for it. It oughtn't to be possible. She'd only ever tried it seriously when she was lying down, or at least when she had something to lean against.
She tried it now . . .
There were four elves chasing them. She didn't even think about looking into their minds. But the horses . . . ah, the horses . . .
They were carnivores, minds like an arrowhead.