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From ground level, the city was even more impressive. Against the steam of the swamps it shone like a polished stone. Coloured flags flew over the walls.
'Looks very jolly,' said Nanny.
'Very clean,' said Magrat.
'It just looks like that from outside,' said Granny, who had seen a city before. 'When you get inside it'll be all beggars and noise and gutters full of I don't know what, you mark my words.'
'They're turning quite a lot of people away,' said Nanny.
'They said on the boat that lots of people come here for Fat Lunchtime,' said Granny. 'Probably you get lots of people who ain't the right sort.'
Half a dozen guards watched them approach.
'Very smartly turned out,' said Granny. "That's what I like to see. Not like at home.'
There were only six suits of chain mail in the whole of Lancre, made on the basis of one-size-doesn't-quite-fit-all. Bits of string and wire had to be employed to take in the slack, since in Lancre the role of palace guard was generally taken by any citizen who hadn't got much to do at the moment.
These guards were all six-footers and, even Granny had to admit, quite impressive in their jolly red-and-blue uniforms. The only other real city guards she'd ever seen were those in Ankh-Morpork. The sight of Ankh-Morpork's city guard made thoughtful people wonder who could possibly attack that was worse. They certainly weren't anything to look at.
To her amazement, two pikes barred her way as she stepped under the arched gateway.
'We're not attacking, you know,' she said.
A corporal gave her a salute.
'No ma'am,' he said. 'But we have orders to stop borderline cases.'
'Borderline?' said Nanny. 'What's borderline about us?'
The corporal swallowed. Granny Weatherwax's gaze was a hard one to meet.
'Well,' he said, 'you're a bit... grubby.'
There was a ringing silence. Granny took a deep breath.
'We had a bit of an accident in the swamp,' said Magrat quickly.
'I'm sure it'll be all right,' said the corporal wretchedly. "The captain'll be here directly. Only there's all kinds of trouble if we let the wrong sort in. You'd be amazed at some of the people we get here.'
'Can't go letting the wrong sort in,' said Nanny Ogg. 'We wouldn't want you to let the wrong sort in. I daresay we wouldn't want to come into the kind of city that'd let the wrong sort in, would we, Esme?'
Magrat kicked her on the ankle.
'Good thing we're the right sort,' said Nanny.
'What's happening, corporal?'
The captain of the guard strolled out of a door in the archway and walked over to the witches.
'These . . . ladies want to come in, sir,' said the corporal.
'Well?'
'They're a bit. . . you know, not one hundred per cent clean,' said the corporal, wilting under Granny's stare. 'And one of them's got messy hair - '
'Well!' snapped Magrat.
'- and one of them looks like she uses bad language.'
