She blinked.

"That's odd," she said.

"What?" said Granny.

"Thought I saw... something running..." muttered Nanny. "Over there. Between the trees."

"Must be a duck then, in this place."

"It was bigger'n a duck," said Nanny. "Funny thing is, it looked a bit like a little house."

"Oh yes, running along with smoke coming out of the chimney, I expect," said Granny witheringly.

Nanny brightened. "You saw it too?"

Granny rolled her eyes.

"Come on," she said, "let's get to the road."

"Er," said Magrat, "how?"

They looked at the nominal ground between their reasonably dry refuge and the road. It had a yellowish appearance. There were floating branches and tufts of suspiciously green grass. Nanny pulled a branch off the fallen tree she was sitting on and tossed it a few yards. It struck damply, and sank with the noise of someone trying to get the last bit out of the milkshake.

"We fly over to it, of course," Nanny said.

"You two can," said Granny. "There's nowhere for me to run and get mine started."

In the end Magrat ferried her across on her broom, Nanny bringing up the rear with Granny's erratic stick in tow.

"I just ‘ope no-one saw us, that's all," said Granny, when they'd reached the comparative safety of the road.

Other roads joined the swamp causeway as they got nearer to the city. They were crowded, and there was a long line at the gate.

From ground level, the city was even more impressive. Against the steam of the swamps it shone like a polished stone. Coloured flags flew over the walls.

"Looks very jolly," said Nanny.

"Very clean," said Magrat.

"It just looks like that from outside," said Granny, who had seen a city before. "When you get inside it'll be all beggars and noise and gutters full of I don't know what, you mark my words."

"They're turning quite a lot of people away," said Nanny.

"They said on the boat that lots of people come here for Fat Lunchtime," said Granny. "Probably you get lots of people who ain't the right sort."

Half a dozen guards watched them approach.

"Very smartly turned out," said Granny. "That's what I like to see. Not like at home."

There were only six suits of chain mail in the whole of Lancre, made on the basis of one-size-doesn't-quite-fit-all. Bits of string and wire had to be employed to take in the slack, since in Lancre the role of palace guard was generally taken by any citizen who hadn't got much to do at the moment.

These guards were all six-footers and, even Granny had to admit, quite impressive in their jolly red-and-blue uniforms. The only other real city guards she'd ever seen were those in Ankh-Morpork. The sight of Ankh-Morpork's city guard made thoughtful people wonder who could possibly attack that was worse. They certainly weren't anything to look at.

To her amazement, two pikes barred her way as she stepped under the arched gateway.

"We're not attacking, you know," she said.

A corporal gave her a salute.

"No ma'am," he said. "But we have orders to stop borderline cases."

"Borderline?" said Nanny. "What's borderline about us?"

The corporal swallowed. Granny Weatherwax's gaze was a hard one to meet.

"Well," he said, "you're a bit... grubby."

There was a ringing silence. Granny took a deep breath.

"We had a bit of an accident in the swamp," said Magrat quickly.

"I'm sure it'll be all right," said the corporal wretchedly. "The captain'll be here directly. Only there's all kinds of trouble if we let the wrong sort in. You'd be amazed at some of the people we get here."

"Can't go letting the wrong sort in," said Nanny Ogg. "We wouldn't want you to let the wrong sort in. I daresay we wouldn't want to come into the kind of city that'd let the wrong sort in, would we, Esme?"

Magrat kicked her on the ankle.

"Good thing we're the right sort," said Nanny.

"What's happening, corporal?"

The captain of the guard strolled out of a door in the archway and walked over to the witches.

"These... ladies want to come in, sir," said the corporal.

"Well?"

"They're a bit... you know, not one hundred per cent clean," said the corporal, wilting under Granny's stare. "And one of them's got messy hair - "

"Well!" snapped Magrat.

"- and one of them looks like she uses bad language."

"What?" said Nanny, her grin evaporating. "I'll tan your hide, you little bugger!"

"But, corporal, they have got brooms," said the captain. "It's very hard for cleaning staff to look tidy all the time."

"Cleaning staff?" said Granny.

"I'm sure they're as anxious as you are to get tidied up," said the captain.

"Excuse me," said Granny, empowering the words with much the same undertones as are carried by words like ‘Charge!" and ‘Kill!", "Excuse me, but does this pointy hat I'm wearing mean anything to you?"

The soldiers looked at it politely.

"Can you give me a clue?" said the captain, eventually.

"It means - "

"We'll just trot along in, if it's all the same to you," said Nanny Ogg. "Got a lot of cleaning up to do." She flourished her broomstick. "Come, ladies."

She and Magrat grasped Granny's elbows firmly and propelled her under the archway before her fuse burned out. Granny Weatherwax always held that you ought to count up to ten before losing your temper. No-one knew why, because the only effect of this was to build up the pressure and make the ensuing explosion a whole lot worse.

The witches didn't stop until they were out of sight of the gate.

"Now, Esme," said Nanny soothingly, "you shouldn't take it personal. And we are a bit mucky, you must admit. They were just doing their job, all right? How about that?"

"They treated us as if we was ordinary people," said Granny, in a shocked voice.

"This is foreign parts, Granny," said Magrat. "Anyway, you said the men on the boat didn't recognize the hat, either."

"But then I dint want ‘em to," said Granny. "That's different."

"It's just an... an incident, Granny," said Magrat. "They were just stupid soldiers. They don't even know a proper free-form hairstyle when they see it."

Nanny looked around. Crowds milled past them, almost in silence.

"And you must admit it's a nice clean city," she said.

They took stock of their surroundings.

It was certainly the cleanest place they'd ever seen. Even the cobblestones had a polished look.

"You could eat your tea off the street," said Nanny, as they strolled along.

"Yes, but you'd eat your tea off the street anyway," said Granny.

"I wouldn't eat all of it. Even the gutters are scrubbed. Not a Ronald in sight, look."

"Gytha!"

"Well, you said that in Ankh-Morpork - "

"This is somewhere else!"

"It's so spotless," said Magrat. "Makes you wish you'd cleaned your sandals."

"Yeah." Nanny Ogg squinted along the street. "Makes you wish you were a better person, really."

"Why are you two whispering?" said Granny.

She followed their gaze. There was a guard standing on the street corner. When he saw them looking at him he touched his helmet and gave them a brief smile.

"Even the guards are polite," said Magrat.

"And there's so many of them, too," said Granny.

"Amazing, really, needing all these guards in a city where people are so clean and quiet," said Magrat.

"Perhaps there's so much niceness to be spread around they need a lot of people to do it," said Nanny Ogg.

The witches wandered through the packed streets.

"Nice houses, though," said Magrat. "Very decorative and olde-worlde."

Granny Weatherwax, who lived in a cottage that was as olde-worlde as it was possible to be without being a lump of metamorphic rock, made no comment.

Nanny Ogg's feet started to complain.

"We ought to find somewhere to stop the night," she said. "We can look for this girl in the morning. We'll all do a lot better for a good night's sleep."