'I know... I know...'
Agnes saw a movement out of the corner of her eye.
Steam was rising from under the blanket they'd pulled over Granny Weatherwax.
As Agnes looked down Granny's eyes sprang open and swivelled from side to side.
Her mouth moved once or twice.
'And how are you, Miss Weatherwax?' said Mightily Oats, in a cheerful voice.
'She was bitten by a vampire! What sort of question is that?' Agnes hissed.
'One that's better than "What are you?"' Oats whispered.
Granny's hand twitched. She opened her mouth again, arched her body against the rope and then slumped back against the pillow.
Agnes touched her forehead, and drew her hand back sharply.
'She's burning up! Hodgesaargh! Bring some water!'
'Coming, miss!'
'Oh, no...' whispered Oats. He pointed to the ropes. They were unknotting themselves, stealthily moving across one another like snakes.
Granny half rolled, half fell out of the bed, landing on her hands and knees. Agnes went to pick her up and received a blow from an elbow that sent her across the room.
The old witch dragged the door open and crawled out into the rain. She paused, panting, as the drops hit her. Agnes swore that some of them sizzled.
Granny's hands slipped. She landed in the mud and struggled to push herself upright.
Blue-green light spilled out from the mews 's open door. Agnes looked back inside. Hodgesaargh was staring at a jamjar, in which a point of white light was surrounded by a pale blue flame that stretched well beyond the jar, and curled and pulsed.
'What's that?'
'My phoenix feather, miss! It's burning the air!'
Outside, Oats had pulled Granny upright and had got his shoulder under one of her arms.
'She said something,' he said. "I am", I think...'
'She might be a vampire!'
'She just said it again. Didn't you hear?'
Agnes moved closer, and Granny's limp hand was suddenly gripping her shoulder. She could feel the heat of it through her sodden dress and made out the word in the hiss of the rain.
'Iron?' said Oats. 'Did she say iron?'
'There's the castle forge next door,' said Agnes. 'Let's get her in there.'
The forge was dark and cold, its fire only lit when there was work to be done. They pulled Granny inside and she slipped out of their grip and landed on hands and knees on the flagstones.
'But iron's no good against vampires, is it?' said Agnes. 'I've never heard of people using iron-'
Granny made a noise somewhere between a snort and a growl. She pulled herself across the floor, leaving a trail of mud, until she reached the anvil. ;But she hates vampires!'
'This may present her with a problem when she comes round, since she will be a rather subservient one. Oh dear...' The Count reached down and picked up Oats from under the table by one arm. 'What a bloodless performance. I remember Omnians when they were full of certainty and fire and led by men who were courageous and unforgiving, albeit quite unbelievably insane. How they would despair of all this milk and water stuff. Take him away with you, please.'