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'Meddling . . .' she whispered.
'What's up, Esme?'
Granny Weatherwax strode across the room and wiped the dust off a huge ornate mirror.
'Hah!' she said, and spun around. 'We'll be going now,' she said.
'But I thought we were going to have a rest. I mean, it's nearly dawn,' said Magrat.
'No sense in outstaying our welcome,' said Granny, as she left the room.
'But we haven't even had a . . .' Magrat began. She glanced at the mirror. It was a big oval one, in a gilt frame. It looked perfectly normal. It wasn't like Granny Weatherwax to be frightened of her own reflection.
'She's in one of her moods again,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Come on. No sense in staying here.' She patted the bewildered princess on the head. 'Cheerio, Miss. A couple of weeks with a broom and an axe and you'll soon have the old place looking like new.'
'She looked as if she recognized Granny,' said Magrat, as they followed the stiff hurrying figure of Esme Weather-wax down the stairs.
'Well, we know she doesn't, don't we,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Esme has never been in these parts in her life.'
'But I still don't see why we have to rush off,' Magrat persisted. 'I expect people will be jolly grateful that we've broken the spell and everything.'
The rest of the palace was waking up. They jogged past guards staring in amazement at their cobwebbed uniforms and the bushes that were growing everywhere. As they crossed the forested courtyard an older man in faded robes staggered out of a doorway and leaned against the wall, trying to get his bearings. Then he saw the accelerating figure of Granny Weatherwax.
'You?' he shouted, and, 'Guards!'
Nanny Ogg didn't hesitate. She snatched Magrat's elbow and broke into a run, catching up with Granny Weatherwax at the castle gates. A guard who was better at mornings than his colleague staggered forward and made an attempt to bar their way with his pike, but Granny just pushed at it and swivelled him around gently.
Then they were outside and running for the broomsticks leaning against a convenient tree. Granny snatched at hers without stopping and, for once, it fired up on almost the first attempt.
An arrow whiffled past her hat and stuck in a branch.
'I don't call that gratitude,' said Magrat, as the brooms glided up and over the trees.
'A lot of people are never at their best just after waking up,' said Nanny.
'Everyone seemed to think they knew you. Granny,' said Magrat.
Granny's broomstick jerked in the wind.
'They didn't!' she shouted. 'They never saw me before, all right?'
They flew on in troubled silence for a while.
Then Magrat, who in Nanny Ogg's opinion had an innocent talent for treading on dangerous ground, said: 'I wonder if we did the right thing? I'm sure it was a job for a handsome prince.'
'Hah!' said Granny, who was riding ahead. 'And what good would that be? Cutting your way through a bit of bramble is how you can tell he's going to be a good husband, is it? That's fairy godmotherly thinking, that is! Goin' around inflicting happy endings on people whether they wants them or not, eh?'
'There's nothing wrong with happy endings,' said Magrat hotly.
'Listen, happy endings is fine if they turn out happy,' said Granny, glaring at the sky. ' But you can't make 'em for other people. Like the only way you could make a happy marriage is by cuttin' their heads off as soon as they say “I do”, yes? You can't make happiness . . .'
Granny Weatherwax stared at the distant city.
'All you can do,' she said, 'is make an ending.'
They had breakfast in a forest clearing. It was grilled pumpkin. The dwarf bread was brought out for inspection. But it was miraculous, the dwarf bread. No-one ever went hungry when they had some dwarf bread to avoid. You only had to look at it for a moment, and instantly you could think of dozens of things you'd rather eat. Your boots, for example. Mountains. Raw sheep. Your own foot.
Then they tried to get some sleep. At least, Nanny and Magrat did. But all it meant was that they lay awake and listened to Granny Weatherwax muttering under her breath. They'd never seen her so upset.
