Granny Weatherwax's hands made a complicated motion in the air as she made a noose out of something almost too thin to see. She ignored the thrashing horn and dropped it over the unicorn's neck. Then she pulled.
Struggling, its unshod hooves kicking up great clods of mud, the unicorn struggled to its feet.
“That'll never hold it,” said Nanny, sidling around the tree.
“I could hold it with a cobweb, Gytha Ogg. With a cobweb. Now go about your business.”
“Yes, Esme.”
The unicorn threw back its head and screamed.
Half the town was waiting as Granny led the beast into Lancre, hooves skidding on the cobbles, because when you tell Nanny Ogg you tell everyone.
It danced at the end of the impossibly thin tether, kicking out at the terminally unwary, but never quite managing to pull free.
Jason Ogg, still in his best clothes, was standing nervously at the open doorway to the forge. Superheated air vibrated over the chimney.
“Mister Blacksmith,” said Granny Weatherwax, “I have a job for you.”
“Er,” said Jason, “that's a unicorn, is that.”
“Correct.”
The unicorn screamed again, and rolled mad red eyes at Jason.
“No one's ever put shoes on a unicorn,” said Jason.
“Think of this,” said Granny Weatherwax, “as your big moment.”
The crowd clustered round, trying to see and hear while keeping out of the way of the hooves.
Jason rubbed his chin with his hammer.
“I don't know-”
“Listen to me, Jason Ogg,” said Granny, hauling on the hair as the creature skittered around in a circle, “you can shoe anything anyone brings you. And there's a price for that, ain't there?”
Jason gave Nanny Ogg a panic-stricken look. She had the grace to look embarrassed.
“She never told me about it,” said Granny, with her usual ability to read Nanny's expression through the back of her own head.
She leaned closer to Jason, almost hanging from the plunging beast. “The price for being able to shoe anything, anything that anyone brings you . . . is having to shoe anything anyone brings you. The price for being the best is always . . . having to be the best. And you pays it, same as me.”
The unicorn kicked several inches of timber out of the door frame.
“But iron-” said Jason. “And nails-”
“Yes?”
“Iron'll kill it,” said Jason. “If I nail iron to 'n, I'll kill 'n. Killing's not part of it. I've never killed anything. I was up all night with that ant, it never felt a thing. I won't hurt a living thing that never done me no harm.”
“Did you get that stuff from my dresser, Gytha?”
“Yes, Esme.”
“Bring it in here, then. And you, Jason, you just get that forge hot.”
“But if I nail iron to it I'll-”