Big Aggie had emerged from the smoke.
Now that he could see her clearly, the dumpy creature looked like a squat version of Nanny Ogg. And there was something about the eyes. Verence was technically an absolute ruler and would continue to be so provided he didn't make the mistake of repeatedly asking Lancrastians to do anything they didn't want to do. He was aware that the commander-in-chief of his armed forces was more inclined to take orders from his mum than his king.
Whereas Big Aggie didn't even have to say anything. Everyone just watched her, and then went and got things done.
Big Aggie's man appeared at her side.
'Ye'll be wantin' to save yer ladie and yer bairn, Big Aggie's thinkin',' he said.
Verence nodded. He didn't feel strong enough to do anything else.
'But ye'll still be verra crassick from loss o' blud, Big Aggie reckons. The heelins put something in their bite that makes ye biddable.'
Verence agreed absolutely. Anything anyone said was all right by him.
Another pixie appeared through the smoke, carrying an earthenware bowl. White suds slopped over the top.
'Ye canna be kinging lyin' down,' said Big Aggie's man. 'So she's made up some brose for ye...'
The pixie lowered the bowl, which looked as though it was full of cream, although dark lines spiralled on its surface. Its bearer stood back reverentially.
'What's in it?' Verence croaked.
'Milk,' said Big Aggie's man promptly. 'And some o' Big Aggie's brewin'. An' herbs.'
Verence grasped the last word thankfully. He shared with his wife the curious but unshakeable conviction that anything with herbs in it was safe and wholesome and nourishing.
'So you'll be having a huge dram,' said the 'old pixie. 'And then we'll be finding you a sword.
'I've never used a sword,' said Verence, trying to pull himself into a sitting position. 'I- I believe violence is the last resort...'
'Ach, weel, so long as ye've brung yer bucket and spade,' said Big Aggie's man. 'Now you just drink up, kingie. Ye'll soon see things differently.'
The vampires glided easily over the moonlit clouds. There was no weather up here and, to Agnes's surprise, no chill either.
'I thought you turned into bats!' she shouted to Vlad.
'Oh, we could if we wanted to,' he laughed. 'But that's a bit too melodramatic for Father. He says we should not conform to crass stereotypes.'
A girl glided alongside them. She looked rather like Lacrimosa; that is, she looked like someone who admired the way Lacrimosa looked and so had tried to look like her. I bet she's not a natural brunette, said Perdita. And if I used that much mascara I'd at least try not to look like Harry the Happy Panda.
'This is Morbidia,' said Vlad. 'Although she's been calling herself Tracy lately, to be cool. Mor- Tracy, this is Agnes.'
'What a good name!' said Morbidia. 'How clever of you to come up with it! Vlad, everyone wants to stop off at Escrow. Can we?'
'It's my real-' Agnes began, but her words were carried away on the wind.
'I thought we were going to the castle,' said Vlad.
'Yes, but some of us haven't fed for days and that old woman was hardly even a snack and the Count won't allow us to feed in Lancre yet and he says it'll be all right and it's not much out of our way.'
'Oh. Well, if Father says...'
Morbidia swooped away.
'We haven't been to Escrow for weeks,' said Vlad. 'It's a pleasant little town.'
'You're going to feed there?' said Agnes.