'Don't think it! Don't think it!' said Nanny urgently. 'Pink elephants! Pink elephants!'
'She wouldn't-'
'Lalalala! Be-ie-ee-ie-oh!' shouted Nanny, dragging Magrat towards the kitchen door. 'Come on, let's go! Agnes, it's up to you two!'
The door slammed behind them. Agnes heard the bolts slide home. It was a thick door and they were big bolts; the builders of Lancre Castle hadn't understood the concept of planks less than three inches thick or locks that couldn't withstand a battering ram.
The situation would, to an outsider, have seemed very selfish. But, logically, three witches in danger had been reduced to one witch in danger. Three witches would have spent too much time worrying about one another and what they were going to do. One witch was her own boss.
Agnes knew all this, and it still seemed selfish.
The Count was walking towards Granny. Out of the corner of her eye Agnes could see Vlad and his sister approaching her. There was a solid door behind her. Perdita wasn't coming up with any ideas.
So she screamed.
That was a talent. Being in two minds wasn't a talent, it was merely an affliction. But Agnes's vocal range could melt earwax at the top of the scale.
She started high and saw that she'd judged right. Just after the point where bats and woodworm fell out of the rafters, and dogs barked down in the town, Vlad clapped his hands over his ears.
Agnes gulped for breath.
'Another step and I'll do it louder!' she shouted.
The Count picked up Granny Weatherwax as though she were a doll.
'I'm sure you will,' he said. 'And sooner or later you will run out of breath. Vlad, she followed you home, you may keep her, but she's your responsibility. You have to feed her and clean out her cage.'
The younger vampire approached cautiously.
'Look, you're really not being sensible,' he hissed.
'Good!'
And then he was beside her. But Perdita had been expecting this even if Agnes hadn't, and as he arrived her elbow was already well into its thrust and caught him in the stomach before he could stop it.
She strode forward as he doubled up, noting that inability to learn was a vampire trait that was hard to shake off.
The Count laid Granny Weatherwax on the table.
'Igor!' he shouted. 'Where are you, you stupid-'
'Yeth, marthter?'
The Count spun round.
'Why do you always turn up behind me like that!'
'The old Count alwayth... ecthpected it of me, marthter. It'th a profethional thing.'
'Well, stop it.'
'Yeth, marthter.'
'And the ridiculous voice, too. Go and ring the dinner gong.'
'Yeth, marrrtthhter.'
'And I've told you before about that walk!' the Count shouted, as Igor limped across the hall. 'It's not even amusing!'