Wyrd Sisters

On the moors under the very shadow of the peaks the mighty nocturnal chorus of nature had fallen silent. The crickets had ceased their chirping, the owls had hooted themselves into silence, and the wolves had other matters to attend to.

There was a song that echoed and boomed from cliff to cliff, and resounded up the high hidden valleys, causing miniature avalanches. It funnelled along the secret tunnels under glaciers, losing all meaning as it rang between the walls of ice.

To find out what was actually being sung you would have to go all the way back down to the dying fire by the standing stone, where the cross-resonances and waves of conflicting echoes focused on a small, elderly woman who was waving an empty bottle.

'—with a snail if you slow to a crawl, but the hedgehog—'

'It tastes better at the bottom of the bottle, doesn't it,' Magrat said, trying to drown out the chorus.

'That's right,' said Granny, draining her cup.

'Is there any more?'

'I think Gytha finished it, by the sound of it.'

They sat on the fragrant heather and stared up at the moon.

'Well, we've got a king,' said Granny. 'And there's an end of it.'

'It's thanks to you and Nanny, really,' said Magrat, and hiccupped.

'Why?'

'None of them would have believed me if you hadn't spoken up.'

'Only because we was asked,' said Granny.

'Yes, but everyone knows witches don't lie, that's the important thing. I mean, everyone could see they looked so alike, but that could have been coincidence. You see,' Magrat blushed, 'I looked up droit de seigneur. Goodie Whemper had a dictionary.'

Nanny Ogg stopped singing.

'Yes,' said Granny Weatherwax. 'Well.'

Magrat became aware of an uncomfortable atmosphere.

'You did tell the truth, didn't you?' she said. 'They really are brothers, aren't they?'

'Oh yes,' said Gytha Ogg. 'Definitely. I saw to his mother when your – when the new king was born. And to the queen when young Tomjon was born, and she told me who his father was.'

'Gytha!'

'Sorry.'

The wine was going to her head, but the wheels in Magrat's mind still managed to turn.

'Just a minute,' she said.

'I remember the Fool's father,' said Nanny Ogg, speaking slowly and deliberately. 'Very personable young man, he was. He didn't get on with his dad, you know, but he used to visit sometimes. To see old friends.'

'He made friends easily,' said Granny.

'Among the ladies,' agreed Nanny. 'Very athletic, wasn't he? Could climb walls like nobody's business, I remember hearing.'

'He was very popular at court,' said Granny. 'I know that much.'