Read Online Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Terry Pratchett
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droit de seigneur.”
“Needed a lot of exercise,” said Nanny Ogg, staring at the fire.
“But next day he’d send his housekeeper around with a bag of silver and a hamper of stuff for the wedding,” said Granny. “Many a couple got a proper start in life thanks to that.”
“Ah,” agreed Nanny. “One or two individuals, too.”
“Every inch a king,” said Granny.
“What are you talking about?” said Magrat suspiciously. “Did he keep pets?”
The two witches surfaced from whatever deeper current they had been swimming in. Granny Weatherwax shrugged.
“I must say,” Magrat went on, in severe tones, “if you think so much of the old king, you don’t seem very worried about him being killed. I mean, it was a pretty suspicious accident.”
“That’s kings for you,” said Granny. “They come and go, good and bad. His father poisoned the king we had before.”
“That was old Thargum,” said Nanny Ogg. “Had a big red beard, I recall. He was very gracious too, you know.”
“Only now no one must say Felmet killed the king,” said Magrat.
“What?” said Granny.
“He had some people executed in Lancre, the other day for saying it,” Magrat went on. “Spreading malicious lies, he said. He said anyone saying different will see the inside of his dungeons, only not for long. He said Verence died of natural causes.”
“Well, being assassinated is natural causes for a king,” said Granny. “I don’t see why he’s so sheepish about it. When old Thargum was killed they stuck his head on a pole, had a big bonfire and everyone in the palace got drunk for a week.”
“I remember,” said Nanny. “They carried his head all around the villages to show he was dead. Very convincing, I thought. Specially for him. He was grinning. I think it was the way he would have liked to go.”
“I think we might have to keep an eye on this one, though,” said Granny. “I think he might be a bit clever. That’s not a good thing, in a king. And I don’t think he knows how to show respect.”
“A man came to see me last week to ask if I wanted to pay any taxes,” said Magrat. “I told him no.”
“He came to see me, too,” said Nanny Ogg. “But our Jason and our Wane went out and tole him we didn’t want to join.”
“Small man, bald, black cloak?” said Granny thoughtfully.
“Yes,” said the other two.
“He was hanging about in my raspberry bushes,” said Granny. “Only, when I went out to see what he wanted, he ran away.”
“Actually, I gave him tuppence,” said Magrat. “He said he was going to be tortured, you see, if he didn’t get witches to pay their taxes…”
Lord Felmet looked carefully at the two coins in his lap.
Then he looked at his tax gatherer.
“Well?” he said.
The tax gatherer cleared his throat. “Well, sir, you see. I explained about the need to employ a standing army, ekcetra, and they said why, and I said because of bandits, ekcetra, and they said bandits never bothered them.”
“And civil works?”
“Ah. Yes. Well, I pointed out the need to build and maintain bridges, ekcetra.”
“And?”
“They said they didn’t use them.”
“Ah,” said the duke knowledgeably. “They can’t cross running water.”
“Not sure about that, sir. I think witches cross anything they like.”
“Did they say anything else?” said the duke.
The tax gatherer twisted the hem of his robe distractedly.
“Well, sir. I mentioned how taxes help to maintain the King’s Peace, sir…”
“And?”
“They said the king should maintain his own peace, sir. And then they gave me a look.”
“What sort of look?”
The duke sat with his thin face cupped in one hand. He was fascinated.
“It’s sort of hard to describe,” said the taxman. He tried to avoid Lord Felmet’s gaze, which was giving him the distinct impression that the tiled floor was fleeing away in all directions and had already covered several acres. Lord Felmet’s fascination was to
“Needed a lot of exercise,” said Nanny Ogg, staring at the fire.
“But next day he’d send his housekeeper around with a bag of silver and a hamper of stuff for the wedding,” said Granny. “Many a couple got a proper start in life thanks to that.”
“Ah,” agreed Nanny. “One or two individuals, too.”
“Every inch a king,” said Granny.
“What are you talking about?” said Magrat suspiciously. “Did he keep pets?”
The two witches surfaced from whatever deeper current they had been swimming in. Granny Weatherwax shrugged.
“I must say,” Magrat went on, in severe tones, “if you think so much of the old king, you don’t seem very worried about him being killed. I mean, it was a pretty suspicious accident.”
“That’s kings for you,” said Granny. “They come and go, good and bad. His father poisoned the king we had before.”
“That was old Thargum,” said Nanny Ogg. “Had a big red beard, I recall. He was very gracious too, you know.”
“Only now no one must say Felmet killed the king,” said Magrat.
“What?” said Granny.
“He had some people executed in Lancre, the other day for saying it,” Magrat went on. “Spreading malicious lies, he said. He said anyone saying different will see the inside of his dungeons, only not for long. He said Verence died of natural causes.”
“Well, being assassinated is natural causes for a king,” said Granny. “I don’t see why he’s so sheepish about it. When old Thargum was killed they stuck his head on a pole, had a big bonfire and everyone in the palace got drunk for a week.”
“I remember,” said Nanny. “They carried his head all around the villages to show he was dead. Very convincing, I thought. Specially for him. He was grinning. I think it was the way he would have liked to go.”
“I think we might have to keep an eye on this one, though,” said Granny. “I think he might be a bit clever. That’s not a good thing, in a king. And I don’t think he knows how to show respect.”
“A man came to see me last week to ask if I wanted to pay any taxes,” said Magrat. “I told him no.”
“He came to see me, too,” said Nanny Ogg. “But our Jason and our Wane went out and tole him we didn’t want to join.”
“Small man, bald, black cloak?” said Granny thoughtfully.
“Yes,” said the other two.
“He was hanging about in my raspberry bushes,” said Granny. “Only, when I went out to see what he wanted, he ran away.”
“Actually, I gave him tuppence,” said Magrat. “He said he was going to be tortured, you see, if he didn’t get witches to pay their taxes…”
Lord Felmet looked carefully at the two coins in his lap.
Then he looked at his tax gatherer.
“Well?” he said.
The tax gatherer cleared his throat. “Well, sir, you see. I explained about the need to employ a standing army, ekcetra, and they said why, and I said because of bandits, ekcetra, and they said bandits never bothered them.”
“And civil works?”
“Ah. Yes. Well, I pointed out the need to build and maintain bridges, ekcetra.”
“And?”
“They said they didn’t use them.”
“Ah,” said the duke knowledgeably. “They can’t cross running water.”
“Not sure about that, sir. I think witches cross anything they like.”
“Did they say anything else?” said the duke.
The tax gatherer twisted the hem of his robe distractedly.
“Well, sir. I mentioned how taxes help to maintain the King’s Peace, sir…”
“And?”
“They said the king should maintain his own peace, sir. And then they gave me a look.”
“What sort of look?”
The duke sat with his thin face cupped in one hand. He was fascinated.
“It’s sort of hard to describe,” said the taxman. He tried to avoid Lord Felmet’s gaze, which was giving him the distinct impression that the tiled floor was fleeing away in all directions and had already covered several acres. Lord Felmet’s fascination was to
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