bluntly.
The head revolved to face her.
â
My name is unpronounceable in your tongue, woman
,â it said.
âIâll be the judge of that,â warned Granny, and added, âDonât you call me woman.â
â
Very well. My name is WxrtHltl-jwlpklz
,â said the demon smugly.
âWhere were you when the vowels were handed out? Behind the door?â said Nanny Ogg.
âWell, Mrââ Granny hesitated only fractionally â âWxrtHltl-jwlpklz, I expect youâre wondering why we called you here tonight.â
â
Youâre not supposed to say that
,â said the demon. â
Youâre supposed to sayâ
â
âShut up. We have the sword of Art and the octogram of Protection, I warn you.â
â
Please yourself. They look like a washboard and a copper stick to me
,â sneered the demon.
Granny glanced sideways. The corner of the washroom was stacked with kindling wood, with a big heavy sawhorse in front of it. She stared fixedly at the demon and, without looking, brought the stick down hard across the thick timber.
The dead silence that followed was broken only by the two perfectly-sliced halves of the sawhorse teetering backwards and forwards and folding slowly into the heap of kindling.
The demonâs face remained impassive.
â
You are allowed three questions
,â it said.
âIs there something strange at large in the kingdom?â said Granny.
It appeared to think about it.
âAnd no lying,â said Magrat earnestly. âOtherwise itâll be the scrubbing brush for you.â
â
You mean stranger than usual?
â
âGet on with it,â said Nanny. âMy feet are freezing out here.â
â
No. There is nothing strange
.â
âBut we felt itââ Magrat began.
âHold on, hold on,â said Granny. Her lips moved soundlessly. Demons were like genies or philosophy professors â if you didnât word things
exactly
right, they delighted in giving you absolutely accurate and completely misleading answers.
âIs there something in the kingdom that wasnât there before?â she hazarded.
â
No
.â
Tradition said that there could be only three questions. Granny tried to formulate one that couldnât be deliberately misunderstood. Then she decided that this was playing the wrong kind of game.
âWhat the hellâs going on?â she said carefully. âAnd no mucking about trying to wriggle out of it, otherwise Iâll boil you.â
The demon appeared to hesitate. This was obviously a new approach.
âMagrat, just kick that kindling over here, will you?â said Granny.
â
I protest at this treatment
,â said the demon, its voice tinged with uncertainty.
âYes, well, we havenât got time to bandy legs with you all night,â said Granny. âThese word games mightbe all right for wizards, but weâve got other fish to fry.â
âOr boil,â said Nanny.
â
Look
.â said the demon, and now there was a whine of terror in its voice. â
Weâre not supposed to volunteer information just like that. There are rules, you know
.â
âThereâs some old oil in the can on the shelf, Magrat,â said Nanny.
â
If I simply tell you
ââ the demon began.
âYes?â said Granny, encouragingly.
â
You wonât let on, will you?
â it implored.
âNot a word,â promised Granny.
âLips are sealed,â said Magrat.
â
There is nothing new in the kingdom
,â said the demon, â
but the land has woken up
.â
âWhat do you mean?â said Granny.
â
Itâs unhappy. It wants a king that cares for it
.â
âHowââ Magrat began, but Granny waved her into silence.
âYou donât mean people, do you?â she said. The glistening head shook. âNo, I didnât think
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