“They never burned witches,” said Granny. “Probably they burned some old ladies who spoke up or couldn’t run away. I wouldn’t look for witches bein’ burned,” she added, shifting position. “I might look for witches doin’ the burning, though. We ain’t all nice.”
Granny Weatherwax
“We are vampires. We can’t help what we are.”
“Only animals can’t help what they are,” said Granny.
Granny and Count Magpyr
Vlad looked imploringly at Agnes, and reached out to her.
“You wouldn’t let them kill me, would you? You wouldn’t let them do this to me? We could have � we might � you wouldn’t, would you?”
The crowd hesitated. This sounded like an important plea. A hundred pairs of eyes stared at Agnes.
She took his hand. I suppose we could work on him, said Perdita. But Agnes thought about Escrow, and the queues, and the children playing while they waited, and how evil might come animal sharp in the night, or grayly by day on a list�
“Vlad,” she said gently, looking deep into his eyes, “I’d even hold their coats.”
Vlad Magpyr and Agnes Nitt
“You’re a good man, Mister Oats?” said Granny, conversationally, as the echoes died away. “Even without your holy book and holy amulet and holy hat?”
“Er�I try to be�” he ventured.
“Well�this is where you find out,” said Granny. “To the fire we come at last, Mister Oats. This is where we both find out.”
Granny prepares to release the phoenix
“Shame about your little book of holy words�” she said, when she was farther down the track.
There was a long pause before Oats replied.
“I can easily get another,” he said levelly.
“Must be hard, not having your book of words.”
“It’s only paper.”
�
“Terrible thing, having to burn all them words, though.”
“The worthwhile ones don’t burn.”
“You’re not too stupid, for all that you wear a funny hat,” said Granny.
“I know when I’m being pushed, Mistress Weatherwax.”
“Well done.”
Granny Weatherwax and Mightily Oats
“Something � will get up � presently,” Granny panted. “Make sure�you know well�what it is�”
“But you’re not expecting me to behead–”
“I’m commandin’ you, religious man! What do you really�believe? What did you�think it was all about? Singing songs? Sooner or later�it’s all down to�the blood�”
Granny Weatherwax and Mightily Oats
“Maybe we’ll not see the back of these vampires by going over to the curtains and saying ‘my, isn’t it stuffy in here,’ but there’s got to be some other way.”
“And if there isn’t?”
“Marry him,” said Nanny firmly. Magrat gasped. The teapot rattled in her hand.
�
“You really haven’t got any scruples, have you, Nanny,” said Agnes.
“No,” said Nanny, simply. “This is Lancre we’re talkin’ about. If we was men, we’d be talking about layin’ down our lives for the country. As women, we can talk about laying down.”
Nanny Ogg’s take on politics and war
–but he’d hoped that, just once, that Om would make himself known in some obvious and unequivocal way that couldn’t be mistaken for wind or a guilty conscience. Just once, he’d like the clouds to part for the space of ten seconds and a voice to cry out, “YES, MIGHTILY-PRAISEWORTHY-ARE-YE-WHO-EXALTETH-OM OATS! IT’S ALL COMPLETELY TRUE! INCIDENTALLY, THAT WAS A VERY THOUGHTFUL PAPER YOU WROTE ON THE CRISIS OF RELIGION IN A PLURALISTIC SOCIETY!”
It wasn’t that he lacked faith. But faith wasn’t enough. He’d wanted knowledge.
Mightily Oats, priest of Om.
“You did well to get a fire going in this murk,” said Granny.
“I thank Om for it,” said Oats.