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Nanny surfaced, and pushed her way through the throng to Granny Weatherwax.
'Esme?'
She grabbed Granny's arm.
'Esme?'
'Hmm?'
Nanny was aware that the crowd was moving, parting like a sea, between the staircase and the chaise-longue at the far end of the hall.
look at us,' she said. 'Them feathers in your hair really look good.'
'I've never been vain,' said Granny Weatherwax. 'You know that, Gytha. No-one could ever call me vain.'
'No, Esme,' said Nanny Ogg.
Granny twirled a bit.
'Are you ready then, Dame Ogg?' she said.
'Yes. Let's do it, Lady Weatherwax.'
The dance floor was thronged. Decorations hung from every pillar, but they were black and silver, the colours of the festival of Samedi Nuit Mort. An orchestra was playing on a balcony. Dancers whirled. The din was immense.
A waiter with a tray of drinks suddenly found that he was a waiter without a tray of drinks. He looked around, and then down to a small fox under a huge white wig.
'Bugger off and get us some more,' said Nanny pleasantly. 'Can you see her, your ladyship?'
'There's too many people.'
'Well, can you see the Duc?'
'How do I know? Everyone's got masks on!'
'Hey, is that food over there?'
Many of the less energetic or more hungry of the Genua nobility were clustered around the long buffet. All they were aware of, apart from sharp digs with a pair of industrious elbows, was an amiable monotone at chest height, on the lines of'. . . mind your backs . . . stand aside there . . . comin' through.'
Nanny fought her way to the table and nudged a space for Granny Weatherwax.
'Cor, what a spread, eh?' she said. 'Mind you, they have tiny chickens in these parts.' She grabbed a plate.
"Them's quails.'
'I'll 'ave three. 'Ere, charlie chan!'
A flunkey stared at her.
'Got any pickles?'
'I'm afraid not, ma'am.'
Nanny Ogg looked along a table which included roast swans, a roasted peacock that probably wouldn't have felt any better about it even if it had known that its tail feathers were going to be stuck back in afterwards, and more fruits, boiled lobsters, nuts, cakes, creams and trifles than a hermit's dream.
'Well, got any relish?'
'No, ma'am.'
