“Ooaauooow!”

…but there was probably no combination of vowels that could do justice to the cry Nanny Ogg made on seeing a young baby. It included sounds known only to cats.

“Isn’t she a little precious,” Nanny crooned. “I’ve probably got a sweetie somewhere—”

“She’s not on solids,” said Magrat.

“Still keeping you up at nights?”

“And days. But she’s slept well today, thank goodness. Nanny, give her to Mr. Oats and let’s sort this out right away.”

The young priest took the baby nervously, holding it, as some men do, as if it would break or at least explode.

“There, there, there,” he said, vaguely.

“Now…what’s this about Granny?” said Magrat.

They told her, interrupting one another at important points.

“The gnarly ground over toward the top of the forest?” said Magrat, when they were nearly finished.

“That’s right,” said Nanny.

“What is gnarly ground?” said Agnes.

“There’s a lot of magic in these mountains, right?” said Nanny. “And everyone knows mountains get made when lumps of land bang together, right? Well, when the magic gets trapped you…sort of…get a bit of land where the space is…sort of…scrunched up, right? It’d be quite big if it could but it’s like a bit of gnarly wood in an ol’ tree. Or a used hanky…all folded up small but still big in a different way.”

“But I’ve been up there and it’s just a bit of moorland!”

“You’ve got to know the right direction,” said Nanny. “Damn hard to scry into a place like that. It goes all wobbly. It’s like tryin’ to look at something close up and a long way away at the same time. It makes your crystal ball water.”

She pulled the green ball toward her.

“Now, you two push an’ I’ll steer—”

“Er, are you going to do some magic?” said Oats, behind them.

“What’s the problem?” said Nanny.

“I mean, does it involve, er…” he colored up, “er…removing your garments and dancing around and summoning lewd and salacious creatures? Only I’m afraid I couldn’t be a party to that. The Book of Om forbids consorting with false enchanters and deceitful soothsayers, you see.”

“I wouldn’t consort with false enchanters neither,” said Nanny. “Their beards fall off.”

“We’re real,” said Magrat.

“And we certainly don’t summon lewd and salacious creatures,” said Agnes.

“Unless we want to,” said Nanny Ogg, almost under her breath.

“Well…all right, then,” said Oats.

As they unwound the power, Agnes heard Perdita think I don’t like Magrat. She’s not like she used to be. Well, of course she’s not. But she’s taking charge, she’s not cringing slightly like she used to, she’s not WET. That’s because she’s a mother, Agnes thought. Mothers are only slightly damp.

She was not, herself, hugely in favor of motherhood in general. Obviously it was necessary, but it wasn’t exactly difficult. Even cats managed it. But women acted as if they’d been given a medal that entitled them to boss people around. It was as if, just because they’d got the label which said “mother,” everyone else got a tiny part of the label that said “child”…

She gave a mental shrug, and concentrated on the craft in hand.

Light grew and faded inside the green globe. Agnes had only scryed a few times before, but she didn’t remember the light pulsing like this. Every time it dissolved into an image the light flickered and bounced to somewhere else…a patch of heather…a tree…boiling clouds…

And then Granny Weatherwax came and went. The image appeared and was gone in an instant, and the glow that rolled in with a finality told Agnes that this was all, folks.

“She was lying down,” said Magrat. “It was all fuzzy.”

“Then she’s in one of the caves. She said once she goes up there to be alone with her thoughts,” said Nanny. “And did you catch that little twitch? She’s trying to keep us out.”

“The caves up there are just scoops in the rock,” said Agnes.

“Yes…and no,” said Nanny. “Did I see her holding a card in her hands?”

“The ‘I ate’nt dead’ card?” said Magrat.

“No, she’d left that in the cottage.”

“Just when we really need her, she goes away into a cave?”

“Does she know we need her? Did she know about the vampires?” said Agnes.

“Can’t we go and ask her?” said Magrat.

“We can’t fly all the way,” said Nanny, scratching her chin. “Can’t fly prop’ly over gnarly ground. The broomsticks act funny.”

“Then we’ll walk the rest,” said Magrat. “It’s hours to sunset.”

“You’re not coming, are you?” said Agnes, aghast.

“Yes, of course.”

“But what about the baby?”

“She seems to like it in the sling and it keeps her warm and it’s not as if there’s monsters up there,” said Magrat. “Anyway, I think it’s possible to combine motherhood and a career.”

“I thought you’d given up witchcraft,” said Agnes.

“Yes…well…yes. Let’s make sure Granny’s all right and get this all sorted out, and then obviously I’ll have other things to do…”

“But it could be dangerous!” said Agnes. “Don’t you think so, Nanny?”

Nanny Ogg turned her chair and looked at the baby.

“Cootchie-cootchie?” she said.

The small head looked around and Esme opened her blue eyes.

Nanny Ogg stared thoughtfully.

“Take her with us,” she said at last. “I used to take our Jason everywhere when he was tiny. They like being with their mum.”

She gave the baby another long hard look.

“Yes,” she went on, “I think that’d be a damn good idea.”

“Er…I feel perhaps there is little that I’d be able to do,” Oats said.

“Oh, it’d be too dangerous to take you,” said Nanny, dismissively.

“But of course my prayers will go with you.”

“That’s nice.” Nanny sniffed.