'Begone, foul fiend-' he began.
'Oh, dear me,' said the Count, thrusting the axe aside. 'And don't you learn anything, you stupid man? Little stupid man who has a little stupid faith in a little stupid god?'
'But it... lets me see things as they are,' Oats managed.
'Really? And you think you can stand in my way? An axe isn't even a holy symbol!'
'Oh.' Oats looked crestfallen. Agnes saw his shoulders sag as he lowered the blade.
Then he looked up, smiled brightly and said, 'Let's make it so.'
Agnes saw the blade leave a gold trail in the air as it swept around. There was a soft, almost silken sound.
The axe dropped on to the flagstones. In the sudden silence it clanged like a bell. Then Oats reached out and snatched the child from the vampire's unresisting hands. He held her out to Magrat, who took her in shocked silence.
The first sound after that was the rustle of Granny's dress as she stood up and walked over to the axe. She nudged it with her foot.
'If I've got a fault,' she said, contriving to suggest that this was only a theoretical possibility, 'it's not knowing when to turn and run. And I tends to bluff on a weak hand.'
Her voice echoed in the hall. No one else had even breathed out yet.
She nodded at the Count, who'd slowly raised his hands to the red wound that ran all around his neck.
'It was a sharp axe,' she said. 'Who says there's no mercy in the world? Just don't nod, that's all. And someone'll take you down to a nice cold coffin and I daresay fifty years'll just fly past and maybe you'll wake with enough sense to be stupid.'
There was a murmur from the mob as they came back to life. Granny shook her head.
'They want you deader than that, I see,' she said, as the Count gazed ahead of him with frozen, desperate eyes and the blood welled and seeped between his fingers. 'An' there's ways. Oh, yes. We could burn you to ashes and scatter them in the sea-'
This met with a general sigh of approval.
'-or throw 'em up in the air in the middle of a gale-'
This got a smattering of applause.
'-or just pay some sailor to drop you over the edge.' This even got a few whistles. 'Of course, you'd come back alive again, I suppose, one day. But just floating in space for millions of years, oh, that sounds very boring to me.' She raised a hand to silence the crowd.
'No. Fifty years to think about things, that's about right. People need vampires,' she said. 'They helps 'em remember what stakes and garlic are for.'
She snapped her fingers at the crowd. 'Come on, two of you take him down to the vaults. Show some respect for the dead-'
'That's not enough!' said Piotr, stepping forward. 'Not after all he-'
'Then when he comes back you deal with him yourself,' snapped Granny loudly. 'Teach your children! Don't trust the cannibal just 'cos he's usin' a knife and fork! And remember that vampires don't go where they're not invited!'
They backed away. Granny relaxed a little.
'This time round, it's up to me. My... choice.' She leaned closer to the Count's horrible grimace. 'You tried to take my mind away from me,' she said in a lower voice. 'And that's everything to me. Reflect on that. Try to learn.' She stood back. 'Take him away.'
She turned away, to the tall figure. 'So... you're the old master, are you?' she said.
'Alison Weatherwax?' said the old master. 'I have a good memory for necks.'
Granny froze for a second.
'What? No! Er... how do you know the name?'
'Why, she passed through here, what, fifty years ago. We met briefly, and then she cut off my head and stuck a stake in my heart.' The Count sighed happily. 'A very spirited woman. You're a relative, I presume? I lose track of generations, I'm afraid.'