Lords And Ladies

They steal cattle and babies. . .

They steal milk. . .

They love music, and steal away musicians. . .

In fact they steal everything.

We'll never be as free as them, as beautiful as them, as clever as them, as light as them; we are animals.

Chilly wind soughed in the forest beyond the town. It had always been a pleasant forest to walk in at nights but now, she knew, it would not be so again. The trees would have eyes. There would be distant laughter in the wind.

What they take is everything.

Magrat spurred the horse into a walk. Somewhere in the town a door slammed shut.

And what they give you is fear.

There was the sound of hammering from across the street. A man was nailing something on his door. He glanced around in terror, saw Magrat, and darted inside.

What he had been nailing on the door was a horseshoe.

Magrat tied the horse firmly to a tree and slid off its back. There was no reply to her knocking.

Who was it who lived here? Carter the weaver, wasn't it, or Weaver the baker? 'Open up, man! It's me, Magrat Garlick!'

There was something white beside the doorstep.

It turned out to be a bowl of cream.

Again, Magrat thought of the cat Greebo. Smelly, unreliable, cruel and vindictive — but who purred nicely, and had a bowl of milk every night.

'Come on! Open up!'

After a while the bolts slid back, and an eye was applied to a very narrow crack.

'Yes?'

'You're Carter the baker, aren't you?'

'I'm Weaver the thatcher.'

'And you know who I am?'

'Miss Garlick?'

'Come on, let me in!'

'Are you alone, miss?'

'Yes.'

The crack widened to a Magrat width.

There was one candle alight in the room. Weaver backed away from Magrat until he was leaning awkwardly over the table. Magrat peered around him.

The rest of the Weaver family were hiding under the table. Four pairs of frightened eyes peered up at Magrat.

'What's going on?' she said.

'Er . . .' said Weaver. 'Didn't recognize you in your flying hat, miss . . .'

'I thought you were doing the Entertainment? What's happened? Where is everyone? Where is my going-to-be-husband?'

'Er . . .'

Yes, it was probably the helmet. That's what Magrat decided afterward. There are certain items, such as swords and wizards' hats and crowns and rings, which pick up something of the nature of their owners. Queen Ynci had probably never sewn a tapestry in her life and undoubtedly had a temper shorter than a wet cowpat[38]. It was better to think that something of her had rubbed off on the helmet and was being transmitted to Magrat like some kind of royal scalp disease. It was better to let Ynci take over.

She grabbed Weaver by his collar.

'If you say 'Er' one more time,' she said, 'I'll chop your ears off.'

'Er . . . aargh . . . I mean, miss . . . it's the Lords and Ladies, miss!'

'It really is the elves?'

'Miss!' said Weaver, his eyes full of pleading. 'Don't say it! We heard 'em go down the street. Dozens of 'em. And they've stolen old Thatcher's cow and Skindle's goat and they broke down the door of-'

'Why'd you put a bowl of milk out?' Magrat demanded.

Weaver's mouth opened and shut a few times. Then he managed: 'You see, my Eva said her granny always put a bowl of milk out for them, to keep them hap-'

'I see,' said Magrat, icily. 'And the king?'

'The king, miss?' said Weaver, buying time. 'The king,' said Magrat. 'Short man, runny eyes, ears that stick out a bit, unlike other ears in this vicinity very shortly.'

Weaver's fingers wove around one another like tormented snakes.

'Well. . . well. . . well. . .'

He caught the look on Magrat's face, and sagged.

'We done the play,' he said. 'I told 'em, let's do the Stick and Bucket Dance instead, but they were set on this play. And it all started all right and then, and then, and then. . . suddenly They were there, hundreds of 'em, and everyone was runnin', and someone bashed into me, and I rolled into the stream, and then there was all this noise, and I saw Jason Ogg hitting four elves with the first thing he could get hold of-'

'Another elf?'

'Right, and then I found Eva and the kids, and then lots of people were running like hell for home, and there were these Gentry on horseback, and I could hear 'em laughing, and we got home and Eva said to put a horseshoe on the door and-'

'What about the king?'

'Dunno, miss. Last I remember, he was laughin' at Thatcher in his straw wig.'

'And Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax? What happened to them?'

'Dunno, miss. Don't remember seein' 'em, but there was people runnin' everywhere-'

'And where was all this?'

'Miss?'

'Where did it happen?' said Magrat, trying to speak slowly and distinctly.

'Up at the Dancers, miss. You know. Them old stones.' Magrat let him go.

'Oh, yes,' she said. 'Don't tell Magrat, Magrat's not to know about this sort of thing. The Dancers? Right.'

'It wasn't us, miss! It was only make-believe!'

'Hah!'

She unbolted the door again.

'Where're you going, miss?' said Weaver, who was not a competitor in the All-Lancre Uptake Stakes.