Carpe Jugulum - Terry Pratchett [83]
She trooped back to the arch as the coach disappeared down the hill. Well, they had been trying to get away, hadn’t they? And stealing a vampire’s coach had a certain Nanny Ogg style…
Someone gripped both her arms from behind. Instinctively she tried to thrust back with her elbows. It was like trying to move against rock.
“Why, Miss Agnes Nitt,” said Vlad, coldly. “A pleasant stroll to take in a little rain?”
“They’ve got away from you!” she snapped.
“You think so? Father could send that coach right into the gorge in a moment if he wanted to,” said the vampire. “But he won’t. We much prefer the personal touch.”
“The in-your-neck approach,” said Agnes.
“Hah, yes. But he really is trying to be reasonable. So I can’t persuade you to become one of us, Agnes?”
“What, someone who lives by taking life from other people?”
“We don’t usually go as far as that anymore,” said Vlad, dragging her forward. “And when we do…well, we make sure that we only kill people who deserve to die.”
“Oh well, that’s all right then, isn’t it,” said Agnes. “I’m sure I’d trust a vampire’s judgment.”
“My sister can be a bit too…rigorous at times, I admit.”
“I’ve seen the people you brought with you! They practically moo!”
“Oh, them. The domestics. Well? It’s not much different from the lives they would have had in any case. Better, in fact. They are well fed, sheltered—”
“—milked.”
“And is that bad?”
Agnes tried to twist out of his grip. Just here, there was no castle wall. There hadn’t been any need. Lancre Gorge was all the wall anyone could need, and Vlad was walking her right to the sheer drop.
“What a stupid thing to say!” she said.
“Is it? I understand you’ve traveled, Agnes,” said Vlad, as she struggled. “So you’ll know that so many people lead little lives, always under the whip of some king or ruler or master who won’t hesitate to sacrifice them in battle or turn them out when they can’t work anymore.”
But they can run away, Perdita prompted.
“But they can run away!”
“Really? On foot? With a family? And no money? Mostly they never even try. Most people put up with most things, Agnes.”
“That’s the most unpleasant, cynical—”
Accurate, Perdita said.
“—accur—No!”
Vlad raised his eyebrows. “You have such a strange mind, Agnes. Of course, you are not one of the…cattle. I expect that no witch is. You people tend to know your own mind.” He gave her a toothy grin, and on a vampire this was not pleasant. “I wish I did. Come along.”
There was no resisting the pull, unless she wanted to be dragged along the ground.
“Father’s very impressed with you witches,” he said, over his shoulder. “He says we should make you all vampires. He says you’re halfway there anyway. But I’d much rather you came to see how marvelous it could be.”
“You would, would you? I’d like to be constantly craving blood?”
“You constantly crave chocolate, don’t you?”
“How dare you!”
“Blood tends to be low in carbohydrates. Your body will adapt. The pounds will just drop away…”
“That’s sickening!”
“You’ll have complete control over yourself…”
“I’m not listening!”
“All it takes is a little prick—”
“It’s not going to be yours, mister!”
“Hah! Wonderful!” said Vlad and, dragging Agnes behind him, he leapt into the Lancre Gorge.
Granny Weatherwax opened her eyes. At least, she had to assume they were open. She’d felt the lids move.
Darkness lay in front of her. It was velvet black, starless, a hole in space. But there was light behind her. She was standing with her back to the light, she could sense it, see it on her hands. It was streaming past, outlining the darkness that was the long rich deep shadow of her on the…
…black sand. It crunched under her boots as she shifted her weight.
This was a test. Everything was a