'Oh? You'd like a vampire queen one day, would you?' said Lacrimosa.
'Had one once, in Lancre,' said Granny conversationally. 'Poor woman got bitten by one of you people. Got by on blue steak and such. Never laid a tooth on anyone, the way I heard it. Griminir the Impaler, she was.'
'The Impaler?'
'Oh, I just said she wasn't a bloodsucker. I didn't say she was a nice person,' said Granny. 'She didn't mind shedding blood, but she drew the line at drinking it. You don't have to, neither.'
'You know nothing about true vampires!'
'I know more'n you think, and I know about Gytha Ogg,' said Granny. Nanny Ogg blinked.
Granny Weatherwax raised the teacup again, and then lowered it. 'She likes a drink. She'll tell you it has to be best brandy...' Nanny nodded affirmation '... and that's certainly what she desires, but really she'll settle for beer just like everyone else.' Nanny Ogg shrugged as Granny went on: 'But you wouldn't settle for black puddings, would you, because what you really drink is power over people. I know you like I know myself. And one of the things I know is that you ain't going to hurt a hair of that child's head. Leastways,' and here Granny absentmindedly stirred the tea again, 'if she had any yet, you wouldn't. You can't, see.'
She picked up the cup and carefully scraped it on the edge of the saucer. Agnes saw Lacrimosa's lips part, hungrily.
'So all I'm really here for, d'you see, is to see whether you get justice or mercy,' said Granny. 'It's just a matter of choosing.'
'You really think we wouldn't harm meat?' said Lacrimosa, striding forward. 'Watch!'
She brought her hand down hard towards the baby, and then jerked back as if she'd been stung.
'Can't do it,' said Granny.
'I nearly broke my arm!'
'Shame,' said Granny calmly.
'You've put some... something magical in the child, have you?' said the Count.
'Can't imagine who'd think I'd do such a thing,' said Granny, while behind her Nanny Ogg looked down at her boots. 'So here's my offer, you see. You hand back Magrat and the baby and we'll chop your heads off.'
'And that's what you call justice, is it?' said the Count.
'No, that's what I call mercy,' said Granny. She put the cup back in the saucer.
'For goodness' sake, woman, are you going to drink that damn tea or not?' roared the Count.
Granny sipped it and made a face.
'Why, what have I been thinkin' of? I've been so busy talking it's got cold,' she said, and daintily tipped the contents of the cup on to the floor. ;It doesn't burn itself?' Oats said weakly.
'Shouldn't think so,' said Granny, stepping over the wreckage. 'Wouldn't be much point.'
'Then it must be magical fire...'
'They say that whether it burns you or not is up to you,' said Granny. 'I used to watch them as a kid. My granny told me about 'em. Some cold nights you see them dancin' in the sky over the Hub, burnin' green and gold...'
'Oh, you mean the aurora coriolis,' said Oats, trying to make his voice sound matter of fact. 'But actually that's caused by magic particles hitting the-'
'Dunno what it's caused by,' said Granny sharply, 'but what it is is the phoenix dancin'.' She reached out. 'I ought to hold your arm.'
'In case I fall over?' said Oats, still watching the burning bird.
'That's right.'
As he took her weight the phoenix above them flung back its head and screamed at the sky.
'And to think I thought it was an allegorical creature,' said the priest.