There was something in the garden.

It wasn't much of a garden. There were the Herbs, and the soft fruit bushes, a bit of lawn and, of course, the beehives. And it was open to the woods. The local wildlife knew better than to invade a witch's garden.

Granny opened the door carefully.

The moon was setting. Pale silver light turned the world into monochrome.

There was a unicorn on the lawn. The stink of it hit her.

Granny advanced, holding the poker in front of her. The unicorn backed away, and pawed at the ground.

Granny saw the future plain. She already knew the when. Now she was beginning to apprehend the how.

"So," she said, under her breath, "I knows where you came from. And you can damn well get back there."

The thing made a feint at her, but the poker swung toward it.

"Can't stand the iron, eh? Well, just you trot back to your mistress and tell her that we know all about iron in Lancre. And I knows about her. She's to keep away, understand? This is my place!"

Then it was moonlight. Now it was day.

There was quite a crowd in what passed for Lancre's main square. Not much happened in Lancre anyway, and a duel between witches was a sight worth seeing.

Granny Weatherwax arrived at a quarter to noon. Nanny Ogg was waiting on a bench by the tavern. She had a towel around her neck, and was carrying a bucket of water in which floated a sponge.

"What's that for?" said Granny.

"Half time. And I done you a plate of oranges."

She held up the plate. Granny snorted.

"You look as if you could do with eating something, anyway," said Nanny. "You don't look as if you've had anything today. . ."

She glanced down at Granny's boots, and the grubby hem of her long black dress. There were scraps of bracken and bits of heather caught on it.

"You daft old besom!" she hissed. "What've you been doing!"

"I had to-"

"You've been up at the Stones, haven't you! Trying to hold back the Gentry."

"Of course," said Granny. Her voice wasn't faint. She wasn't swaying. But her voice wasn't faint and she wasn't swaying. Nanny Ogg could see, because Granny Weatherwax's body was in the grip of Granny Weatherwax's mind.

"Someone's got to," she added.

"You could have come and asked me!"

"You'd have talked me out of it."

Nanny Ogg leaned forward.

"You all right, Esme?"

"Fine! I'm fine! Nothing wrong with me, all right?"

"Have you had any sleep at all?" she said.

"Well-"

"You haven't, have you? And then you think you can just stroll down here and confound this girl, just like that?"

"I don't know," said Granny Weatherwax.

Nanny Ogg looked hard at her.

"You don't, do you?" she said, in a softer tone of voice. "Oh, well . . . you better sit down here, before you fall down. Suck an orange. They'll be here in a few minutes."

"No she won't," said Granny "She'll be late."

"How d'you know?"

"No good making an entrance if everyone isn't there to see you, is it? That's headology."

In fact the young coven arrived at twenty past twelve, and took up station on the steps of the market pentangle on the other side of the square.

"Look at 'em," said Granny Weatherwax. "All in black, again."

"Well, we wear black too," said Nanny Ogg the reasonable.

"Only 'cos it's respectable and serviceable," said Granny morosely. "Not because it's romantic. Hah. The Lords and Ladies might as well be here already."

After some eye contact. Nanny Ogg ambled across the square and met Perdita in the middle. The young would-be witch looked worried under her makeup. She held a black lace handkerchief in her hands, and was twisting it nervously.

"Morning, Mrs. Ogg," she said.

"Afternoon, Agnes."

"Um. What happens now?"

Nanny Ogg took out her pipe and scratched her ear with it.

"Dunno. Up to you, I suppose."

"Diamanda says why does it have to be here and now?"

"So's everyone can see," said Nanny Ogg. "That's the point, ain't it? Nothing hole and comer about it. Everyone's got to know who's best at witchcraft. The whole town. Everyone sees the winner win and the loser lose. That way there's no argument, eh?"

Perdita glanced toward the tavern. Granny Weatherwax had dozed off.

"Quietly confident," said Nanny Ogg, crossing her fingers behind her back.

"Um, what happens to the loser?" said Perdita.

"Nothing, really," said Nanny Ogg. "Generally she leaves the place. You can't be a witch if people've seen you beat."

"Diamanda says she doesn't want to hurt the old lady too much," said Perdita. "Just teach her a lesson."

"That's nice. Esme's a quick learner."

"Um. I wish this wasn't happening, Mrs. Ogg."

"That's nice."

"Diamanda says Mistress Weatherwax has got a very impressive stare, Mrs. Ogg."

"That's nice."

"So the test is . . . just staring, Mrs. Ogg."

Nanny put her pipe in her mouth.

"You mean the old first-one-to-blink-or-look-away challenge?"

"Um, yes."

"Right." Nanny thought about it, and shrugged. "Right. But we'd better do a magic circle first. Don't want anyone else getting hurt, do we?"

"Do you mean using Skorhian Runes or the Triple Invocation octogram?" said Perdita.

Nanny Ogg put her head on one side.

"Never heard of them things, dear," she said. "I always does a magic circle like this . . ."

She sidled crabwise away from the fat girl, dragging one toe in the dust. She edged around in a rough circle about fifteen feet across, still dragging her boot, until she backed into Perdita.

"Sorry. There. Done it."

"That's a magic circle?"

"Right. People can come to harm else. All kinds of magic zipping around the place when witches fight."

"But you didn't chant or anything."

"No?"

"There has to be a chant, doesn't there?"

"Dunno. Never done one."

"Oh."

"I could sing you a comic song if you likes," said Nanny helpfully.

"Um, no. Um." Perdita had never heard Nanny sing, but news gets around.

"I like your black lace hanky," said Nanny, not a bit abashed. "Very good for not showing the bogies."

Perdita stared at the circle as though hypnotized. "Um. Shall we start, then?"

"Right."

Nanny Ogg scurried back to the bench and elbowed Granny in the ribs.

"Wake up!"

Granny opened an eye.

"I weren't asleep, I was just resting me eyes."

"All you've got to do is stare her down!"

"At least she knows about the importance of the stare, then. Hah! Who does she think she is? I've been staring at people all my life!"

"Yes, that's what's bothering me – aaahh . . . who's Nona's little boy, then?"

The rest of the Ogg clan had arrived.

Granny Weatherwax personally disliked young Pewsey. She disliked all small children, which is why she got on with them so well. In Pewsey's case, she felt that no one should be allowed to wander around in just a vest even if they were four years old. And the child had a permanently runny nose and ought to be provided with a handkerchief or, failing that, a cork.

Nanny Ogg, on the other hand, was instant putty in the hands of any grandchild, even one as sticky as Pewsey

"Want sweetie," growled Pewsey, in that curiously deep voice some young children have.

"Just in a moment, my duck, I'm talking to the lady," Nanny Ogg fluted.

"Want sweetie now."

"Bugger off, my precious, Nana's busy right this minute."

Pewsey pulled hard on Nanny Ogg's skirts.

"Now sweetie now!"

Granny Weatherwax leaned down until her impressive nose was about level with Pewsey's gushing one.