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'But you hate godmothers, Mistress Weatherwax,' said Mrs Gogol.
'We're the other kind,' said Granny. 'We're the kind that gives people what they know they really need, not what we think they ought to want.'
Among the fascinated crowd several pairs of lips moved as people worked this out.
'Then you've done your godmothering,' said Mrs Gogol, who thought faster than most. 'You did it very well."
helped one another out through the hole.
Saturday was on the other side of a small courtyard, striding towards the sound of the ball.
And there was something behind him, trailing out like the tail of a comet.
'What's that?'
'Mrs Gogol's doing,' said Granny Weatherwax grimly.
Behind Saturday, widening as it snaked through the palace grounds to the gate, was a stream of deeper darkness in the air. At first sight it seemed to contain shapes, but closer inspection indicated that they weren't shapes at all but a mere suggestion of shapes, forming and reforming. Eyes gleamed momentarily in the swirl. There was the cluttering of crickets and the whine of mosquitoes, the smell of moss and the stink of river mud.
'It's the swamp,' said Magrat.
'It's the idea of the swamp,' said Granny. 'It's what you have to have first, before you have the swamp.'
'Oh, dear,' said Nanny. She shrugged. 'Well, Ella's got away and so have we, so this is the part where we escape, yes? That's what we're supposed to do.'
None of them moved.
'They aren't very nice people in there,' said Magrat, after a while, 'but they don't deserve alligators."
'You witches stand right there,' said a voice behind them. Half a dozen guards were crowded around the hole in the wall.
'Life's certainly busier in the city,' said Nanny, pulling another hatpin from her hat.
'They've got crossbows,' warned Magrat. 'There's not much you can do against crossbows. Projectile weapons is Lesson Seven and I haven't had that yet.'
'They can't pull triggers if they think they've got flippers,' said Granny menacingly.
'Now,' said Nanny, 'let's not have any of that, eh? Everyone knows the good ones always win specially when they're outnumbered.'
The guards emerged.
As they did so a tall black shape dropped noiselessly from the wall behind them.
'There,' said Nanny, 'I said he wouldn't go far from his mummy, didn't I?'
One or two of the guards realized that she was staring proudly past them, and turned.
As far as they were concerned, they confronted a tall, broad-shouldered man with a mane of black hair, an eyepatch and a very wide grin.
He stood with his arms casually folded.
He waited until he had their full attention, and then Greebo let his lips part slowly.
Several of the men took a step backwards then.
One of them said, 'Why worry? It's not as if he's got a weap - '
Greebo raised one hand.
