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She followed their gaze. There was a guard standing on the street corner. When he saw them looking at him he touched his helmet and gave them a brief smile.
'Even the guards are polite,' said Magrat.
'And there's so many of them, too,' said Granny.
'Amazing, really, needing all these guards in a city where people are so clean and quiet,' said Magrat.
'Perhaps there's so much niceness to be spread around they need a lot of people to do it,' said Nanny Ogg.
The witches wandered through the packed streets.
'Nice houses, though,' said Magrat. 'Very decorative and olde-worlde.'
Granny Weatherwax, who lived in a cottage that was as olde-worlde as it was possible to be without being a lump of metamorphic rock, made no comment.
Nanny Ogg's feet started to complain.
'We ought to find somewhere to stop the night,' she said. 'We can look for this girl in the morning. We'll all do a lot better for a good night's sleep.'
'And a bath,' said Magrat. 'With soothing herbs.'
'Good idea. I could just go a bath too,' said Nanny.
'My word, doesn't autumn roll around quickly,' said Granny sourly.
'Yeah? When did you last have a bath, Esme?'
'What do you mean, last?
'See? Then there's no call to make comments about my ablutions.'
'Baths is unhygienic,' Granny declared. 'You know I've never agreed with baths. Sittin" around in your own dirt like that.'
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'What do you do, then?' said Magrat. 'I just washes,' said Granny. 'All the bits. You know. As and when they becomes available.'
However available they were, and no further information was vouchsafed on this point, they were certainly more available than accommodation in Genua in Fat Lunchtime.
All the taverns and inns were more than full. Gradually the press of crowds pushed them out of the main streets and into the less fashionable quarters of the city, but still there was no room for the three of them.
Granny Weatherwax had had enough.
'The very next place we see,' she said, setting her jaw firmly, 'we're goin' in. What's that inn over there?'
Nanny Ogg peered at the sign.
'Hotel . . . No ... Va ... cancies,' she muttered, and then brightened up. 'Hotel Nova Cancies,' she repeated. 'That means “new, er, Cancies” in foreign,' she added helpfully.
'It'll do,' said Granny.
She pushed open the door. A round, red-faced man looked up from the desk. He was new to the job and very nervous; the last incumbent had disappeared for not being round and red-faced enough.
Granny didn't waste time.
'You see this hat?' she demanded. 'You see this broom?'
The man looked from her to the broom, and back again.
