The elf looked down at the bow, and froze.
“I will not beg for mercy,” it said.
“Good,” said Magrat, and fired.
That left one elf rolling in circles on the flagstones, clutching at its knee.
Magrat stepped daintily over the body of another elf, vanished into the armoury for a moment, and came back with an axe.
The elf stopped moving, and focused all its attention on her.
“Now,” said Magrat, conversationally, “I'm not going to lie to you about your chances, because you haven't got any. I'm going to ask you some questions. But first of all, I'm going to get your attention.”
The elf was expecting it, and managed to roll aside as the axe splintered the stones.
“Miss?” said Shawn weakly, as Magrat raised the axe again.
“Yes?”
“Mum says they don't feel pain, miss.”
“No? But they can certainly be put to inconvenience.”
Magrat lowered the axe.
“Of course, there's armour,” she said. “We could put this one in a suit of armour. How about it?”
“No!”
The elf tried to pull away across the floor.
“Why not?” said Magrat. “Better than axes, yes?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“It is like being buried in the earth,” hissed the elf. “No eyes, no ears, no mouth!”
“Chain-mail, then,” said Magrat.
“No!”
“Where is the king? Where is everyone?”
“I will not say!”
“All right.”
Magrat vanished into the armoury again, and came back dragging a suit of chain-mail.
The elf tried to scramble away.
“You won't get it on,” said Shawn, from where he lay. “You'll never get it over its arms-”
Magrat picked up the axe.
“Oh, no,” said Shawn. “Miss!”