Carpe Jugulum - Terry Pratchett [122]
Granny raised the cup halfway to her lips. “Kill ’em,” she said. “It won’t benefit you.”
“Esme!” snapped Nanny Ogg and Magrat together.
Granny put the cup back in the saucer. Agnes thought she saw Vlad sigh. She could feel the pull herself…
I know what she did, whispered Perdita. So do I, thought Agnes.
“He’s bluffing,” Granny said.
“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 the 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 Nanny. “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 toward 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 onto the floor.
Lacrimosa groaned.
“It’ll probably wear off soon,” Granny went on, in the same easy voice. “But until it does, you see, you’ll not harm a child, you’ll not harm Magrat, you hate the thought of drinking blood, and you won’t run because you’ll never run from a challenge…”
“What will wear off?” said Vlad.
“Oh, they’re strong, your walls of thought,” said Granny dreamily. “I couldn’t get through them.”
The Count smiled.
Granny smiled, too. “So I didn’t,” she added.
The mist rolled through the crypt, flowing along the floor, walls and ceiling. It poured up the steps and along a tunnel, the billows boiling ahead on one another as though engaged in a war.
An unwary rat, creeping across the flagstones, was too late. The mist flowed over it. There was a squeak, cut off, and when the mist had gone a few small white bones were all that remained.
Some equally small bones, but fully assembled and wearing a black hooded robe and carrying a tiny scythe, appeared out of nowhere and walked over to them. Skeletal claws tippy-tapped on the stone.
“Squeak?” said the ghost of the rat pathetically.
SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats. This was really all it needed to know.
“You wanted to know