'Ghail o' bludy "lemonade", callyake I'
'Ah, no foolin' you, you want the real stuff,' said Nanny. She pulled back a chair cushion, and produced a black glass bottle with its cork held on by wire.
'You're not giving him that, are you?' said Magrat. 'That's your medicinal whisky!'
'And you always tell people it's strictly for extemal use only,' said Agnes.
'Ah, the Nac mac Feegle are a hard-headed race,' said Nanny, handing it down to the tiny man. To Agnes's amazement, he grasped a bottle bigger than himself with insolent ease. 'There you go, man. Share it with your mates, 'cos I know they're around here somewhere.'
There was a clink from the dresser. The witches looked up. Hundreds of pixies had simply appeared among the ornaments. Most of them wore pointed hats that curved so that the point was practically pointing down, and they all carried swords.
'Amazin' how they can just fade into the foreground like that,' said Nanny. 'That's what's kept 'em so safe all these years. That and killin' most people who saw 'em, of course.'
Greebo, very quietly, went and sat under her chair.
'So... you gentlemen have been turned out by the vampires, have ye?' said Nanny, as the bottle bobbed through the throng. A roar went up.
'Blaznet!'
'Ach, yon weezit fash' deveel!'
'Arnoch, a hard tickut!'
'Bigjobs!'
'I daresay you can stop in Lancre,' said Nanny, above the din.
'Just a moment, Nanny-' Magrat began.
Nanny waved a hand at her hurriedly. 'There's that island up on the lake,' she went on, raising her voice. 'It's where the herons nest. Just the place, eh? Lots of fish, lots of hunting up the valley.'
The blue pixies went into a huddle. Then one of them looked up.
'Priznae? Yowl's nae brennit, moy ghail!'
'Oh, you'd be left to yourself,' said Nanny. 'But no stealing cattle, eh?'
'These steal cattle?' said Agnes. 'Full-size cattle? How many of them does it take?'
'Four.'
'Four?'
'One under each foot. Seen 'em do it. You see a cow in a field, mindin' its own business, next minute the grass is rustlin', some little bugger shouts, "Hup, hup, hup," and the poor beast goes past voom! without its legs movin',' said Nanny. 'They're stronger'n cockroaches. You step on a pixie, you'd better be wearing good thick soles.'
'Nanny, you can't give them the island! It doesn't belong to you!' said Magrat.
'It doesn't belong to anyone,' said Nanny.
'It belongs to the King!'
'Ah. Well, what's his is yours, so give 'em the island and Verence can sign a bit o' paper later on. It's worth it,' Nanny added. 'A rent of not stealing our cows is well worth it. Otherwise you'll see cows zippin' around very fast. Backwards, sometimes.'
'Without their legs moving?' said Agnes.
'Right!'
'Well-' Magrat began.