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od of any temperature whatsoever failed to be an entire twelve…course banquet。 Words； he'd said。 All this probably came under the heading of sticks and stones。
'I don't like doing this；' he murmured under his breath。
'Fine；' said Nanny Ogg； whose hearing was superb。 'I'll remember that you didn't like it。'
'What's that？' said the duke sharply。
'Nothing；' said Nanny。 'Is this going to take long？ I haven't had breakfast。'
The Fool lit a match。 There was the faintest disturbance in the air beside him； and it went out。 He swore； and tried another。 This time his shaking hands managed to get it as far as the brazier before it； too； flared and darkened。
'Hurry up； man！' said the duchess； laying out a tray of tools。
'Doesn't seem to want to light…' muttered the Fool； as another match became a fluttering streak of flame and then went out。
The duke snatched the box from his trembling fingers and caught him across the cheek with a handful of rings。
'Can no orders of mine be obeyed？' he screamed。 'Infirm of purpose！ Weak！ Give me the box！'
The Fool backed away。 Someone he couldn't see was whispering things he couldn't quite make out in his ear。
'Go outside；' hissed the duke； 'and see that we are not disturbed！'
The Fool tripped over the bottom step； turned and； with a last imploring look at Nanny； scampered through the door He capered a little bit； out of force of habit。
'The fire isn't pletely necessary；' said the Duchess。 'It merely assists。 Now； woman； will you confess？'
'What to？' said Nanny。
'It's mon knowledge。 Treason。 Malicious witchcraft。 Harbouring the king's enemies。 Theft of the crown…'
A tinkling noise made them look down。 A blood…stained dagger had fallen off the bench； as though someone had tried to pick it up but just couldn't get the strength together。 Nanm heard the king's ghost swear under'its breath； or what would have been its breath。
'…and spreading false rumours；' finished the duchess。
'…salt in my food…' said the duke； nervously； staring at the bandages on his hand。 He kept getting the feeling that there was a fourth person in the dungeon。
'If you do confess；' said the duchess； 'you will merely be burned at the stake。 And； please； no humorous remarks。'
'What false rumours？'
The duke closed his eyes； but the visions were still there 'Concerning the accidental death of the late King Verence。' he whispered hoarsely。 The air swirled again。
Nanny sat with her head cocked to one side； as though listening to a voice only she could hear。 Except that the duke was certain that he could hear something too； not exactly a voice； something like the distant sighing of the wind。
'Oh； I don't know nothing false；' she said。 'I know you stabbed him； and you gave him the dagger。 It was at the top of the stairs。' She paused； head cocked； nodded； and added； 'Just by the suit of armour with the pike； and you said； 〃If it's to be done； it's better if it's done quickly〃； or something； and then you snatched the king's own dagger； the very same what is now lying on the floor； out of his belt and…'
'You lie！ There were no witnesses。 We made 。 。 。 there was nothing to witness！ I heard someone in the dark； but there was no…one there！ There couldn't have been anyone seeing anything！' screamed the duke。 His wife scowled at him。
'Do shut up； Leonal；' she said。 'I think within these four walls we can dispense with that sort of thing。'
'Who told her？ Did you tell her？'
'And calm down。 No…one told her。 She's a witch； for goodness sake； they find out about these things。 Second glance； or something。'
'Sight；' said Nanny。
'Which you will not possess much longer； my good woman； unless you tell us who else knows and indeed； assist us on a number of other matters；' said the duchess grimly。 'And you will do so； believe me。 I am skilled in these things。'
Granny glanced around the dungeon。 It was beginning to get crowded。 King Verence was bursting with such angry vitality that he was very nearly apparent； and was furiously trying to get a grip on a knife。 But there were others behind … wavering； broken shapes； not exactly ghosts but memories； implanted in the very substances of the walls themselves by sheer pain and terror。
'My own dagger！ The bastards！ They killed me with my own dagger；' said the ghost of King Verence silently； raising his transparent arms and imploring the netherworld in general to witness this ultimate humiliation。 'Give me strength 。 。 。'
'Yes；' said Nanny。 'It's worth a try。'
'And now we will mence；' said the duchess。
'What？' said the guard。
'I SAID；' said Magrat； 'I've e to sell my lovely apples。 Don't you listen？'
'There's not a sale on； is there？' The guard was extremely nervous since his colleague had been taken off to the infirmary。 He hadn't taken the job in order to deal with this sort of thing。
It dawned on him。
'You're not a witch； are you？' he said； fumbling awkwardly with his pike。
'Of course not。 Do I look like one？'
The guard looked at her occult bangles； her lined cloak； her trembling hands and her face。 The face was particulary worrying。 Magrat had used a lot of powder to make her face pale and interesting。 It bined with the lavishly applied mascara to give the guard the impression that he was looking at two flies that had crashed into a sugar bowl。 He found his fingers wanted to make a sign to ward off the evil eyeshadow。
'Right；' he said uncertainly。 His mind was grinding through the problem。 She was a witch。 Just lately there'd been a lot of gossip about witches being bad for your health。 He'd been told not to let witches pass； but no…one had said anything about apple sellers。 Apple sellers were not a problem。 It was witches that were the problem。 She'd said she was an apple seller and he wasn't about to doubt a witch's word。
Feeling happy with this application of logic； he stood to one side and gave an expansive wave。
'Pass； apple seller；' he said。
'Thank you；' said Magrat sweetly。 'Would you like an apple？'
'No； thanks。 I haven't finished the one the other witch gave me。' His eyes rolled。 'Not a witch。 Not a witch； an apple seller An apple seller。 She ought to know。'
'How long ago was this？'
'Just a few minutes 。 。 。'
Granny Weatherwax was not lost。 She wasn't the kind of person who ever became lost。 It was just that； at the moment； while she knew exactly where SHE was； she didn't know the position of anywhere else。 Currently she had arrived in the kitchens again； precipitating a breakdown in the cook； who was trying to roast some celery。 The fact that several people had tried to buy apples from her wasn't improving her temper。
Magrat found her way to the Great Hall； empty and deserted at this time of day except for a couple of guards who were playing dice。 They wore the tabards of Felmet's own personal bodyguard； and stopped their game as soon as she appeared。
'Well； well；' said one； leering。 'e to keep us pany have you； my pretty。＇12＇'
'I was looking for the dungeons；' said Magrat； to whom the words 'sexual harassment' were a mere collection of syllables。
'Just fancy；' said one of the guards； winking at the other。 'I reckon we can help you there。' They got up and