‘A lathe,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You get swarf, don’t you?’
‘Oh yes, terrible stuff if it gets in your eye.’ He smiled. ‘And it could be useful for something.’ There was a moment when he almost led Geoffrey back out again, but then he could not hold it in any longer – he had to show the boy what he had been working on. ‘Come, lad,’ he said. ‘Have a look at this. It was going to be a secret until it was finished, but of course I can tell you.’
At the back of the barn there was a huge shape covered with a tarpaulin. Mr Sideways led Geoffrey over to it, reached up and gave the tarpaulin a tug, and as it fell away Geoffrey gasped.
The machine looked like a great metal grasshopper, with a counterweight at one end, and an enormous leather sling at the other. As he gazed at the machine in astonishment, Geoffrey realized that he had seen something similar in the books Mr Wiggall had shown him at home. He said, ‘This looks dangerous.’
‘I hope so,’ said Mr Sideways. ‘I’ve always wanted one of these, ever since I saw them in action. The dwarfs had ones a bit like this which could throw a troll flat on his back. Those dwarfs know a thing or two, I must say, and I’m very big on gnome defence.’ He coughed. ‘Got the idea to build one after I’d been watching the lads down the pub do the Stick and Bucket dance.’fn4
‘So I see,’ said Geoffrey.
‘Captain Makepeace is very impressed,’ Mr Sideways added. ‘So me and the boys are going to try it out tomorrow, but nowhere anyone can see us.’
These old gentlemen have certain qualities, Geoffrey thought. Just because they are old doesn’t mean they can’t be powerful.
fn1 Quite correct. As the common joke says, most inhabitants of Slice are more than one slice short of a loaf.
fn2 It appears to be a fact of life that if two or more well-born ladies should gather together, cupcakes are essential. Otherwise the ceiling might fall on them.
fn3 A very kind term for Agnes, used only by her friends.
fn4 A dance that should only be performed when no women are nearby. If you saw it, you would know why.
CHAPTER 17
An Argument of Witches
THROUGH THE UNBARRED door, Lord Lankin creeps into a crumbling old manor house. Up the creaky stairs, snuffing out the candles in the sconces as he passes, he opens an unbolted door and prowls into a nursery, where a young nursemaid rocking a cradle looks up, gazes into his eyes, and then pulls a sharp pin from her basket . . .
Sitting in the Great Hall at Lancre Castle with their allies and friends, Tiffany and the witches of Lancre contemplated the construction of a battle plan.
It had taken some effort to get everyone there and settled down. Geoffrey had done a marvellous job rounding up reinforcements from all over, flying hours in every direction with Tiffany’s message, to every witch she could name.
Even blind Mrs Happenstance and Long Tall Short Fat Sally had turned up, with Mrs Proust from Ankh-Morpork. And there was a group of younger witches too: Annagramma Hawkin, Petulia Gristle, Dimity Hubbub, Harrieta Bilk and others. Under Queen Magrat’s watchful eye, Letitia ticked them off Tiffany’s list as they arrived.
Having a queen backing you up was a good thing, Tiffany thought, as Mrs Earwig came in and started bossing everyone around – Magrat swiftly put a stop to that, for even Mrs Earwig found that she couldn’t argue with royalty. But dealing with witches all together was like carrying a tray full of marbles. Witches were very good at rubbing one another up the wrong way, and little feuds turned up and went away and disappeared and started again. It was silly and everybody knew it, but they couldn’t help themselves.
Geoffrey came into his own on occasions like this. Whenever bickering broke out, he was there with the perfect word or a sympathetic smile. Seeing his calm-weaving doing its subtle work was a joy, Tiffany thought. You could almost see the calm coming out of his ears.
‘Ladies,’ Tiffany said, calling the meeting to order. ‘Here’s the problem. The elves are back again, this time in force. And if we don’t stop them soon, things will get very bad indeed. I know some of you have encountered elves before’ – she looked at Nanny Ogg and Magrat – ‘but many of you have not. They are a formidable foe.’
Nightshade was standing at the side of the hall, almost too demure in her dairymaid’s dress. She didn’t seem very formidable, but a few of the older witches were eyeing her as though they had just encountered a bad smell.
Mrs Earwig tutted and looked as though she was about to say something, but Petulia got there first. ‘Tiff, are you sure that it’s wise to have an elf here listening to this?’ she asked.
‘Don’t you worry, my girl,’ Nanny Ogg said. ‘If our little friend tries anything, there will be fireworks and no mistake. Certainly no more elf!’