The Prince screamed.

It was a long, descending scream, and ended in a croak, somewhere around ground level.

Baron Saturday took one heavy, deliberate step forward, and there was no more croak.

The drums stopped abruptly.

And then there was a real silence, broken only by the swish of Lily's dress as she fled up the stairs.

A voice behind the witches said, "Thank you, ladies. Could you step aside, please?"

They looked around. Mrs Gogol was there, holding Embers by the hand. She had a fat, gaily-embroidered bag over her shoulder.

All three watched as the voodoo woman led the girl down into the hall and through the silent crowds.

"That's not right either," said Granny under her breath.

"What?" said Magrat. "What?"

Baron Saturday thumped his stick on the floor.

"You know me," he said. "You all know me. You know I was killed. And now here I am. I was murdered and what did you do -?"

"How much did you do, Mrs Gogol?" muttered Granny. "No, we ain't having this."

"Ssh, I can't hear what he's saying," said Nanny.

"He's telling them they can have him ruling them again, or Embers," said Magrat.

"They'll have Mrs Gogol," muttered Granny. "She'll be one o' them eminences greases."

"Well, she's not too bad," said Nanny.

"In the swamp she's not too bad," said Granny. "With someone to balance her up she's not too bad. But Mrs Gogol tellin' a whole city what to do... that's not right. Magic's far too important to be used for rulin' people. Anyway, Lily only had people killed - Mrs Gogol'd set ‘em to choppin' wood and doin' chores afterwards. I reckon, after you've had a busy life, you ort to be able to relax a bit when you're dead."

"Lie back and enjoy it, sort of thing," said Nanny.

Granny looked down at the white dress.

"I wish I had my old clothes on," she said. "Black's the proper colour for a witch."

She strode down the steps, and then cupped her hands around her mouth.

"Coo-ee! Mrs Gogol!"

Baron Saturday stopped speaking. Mrs Gogol nodded at Granny.

"Yes, Miss Weatherwax?"

"Mistress," snapped Granny, and then softened her voice again.

"This ain't right, you know. She's the one who ought to rule, fair enough. And you used magic to help her this far, and that's all right. But it stops right here. It's up to her what happens next. You can't make things right by magic. You can only stop making them wrong."

Mrs Gogol pulled herself up to her full, impressive height. "Who's you to say what I can and can't do here?"

"We're her godmothers," said Granny.

"That's right," said Nanny Ogg.

"We've got a wand, too," said Magrat.

"But you hate godmothers, Mistress Weatherwax," said Mrs Gogol.

"We're the other kind," said Granny. "We're the kind that gives people what they know they really need, not what we think they ought to want."

Among the fascinated crowd several pairs of lips moved as people worked this out.

"Then you've done your godmothering," said Mrs Gogol, who thought faster than most. "You did it very well."

"You didn't listen," said Granny. "There's all sorts of things to godmotherin'. She might be quite good at ruling. She might be bad at it. But she's got to find out for herself. With no interference from anyone."

"What if I say no?"

"Then I expect we'll just have to go on godmotherin'," said Granny.

"Do you know how long I worked to win?" said Mrs Gogol, haughtily. "Do you know what I lost?

"And now you've won, and there's the end of it," said Granny.

"Are you looking to challenge me, Mistress Weatherwax?"

Granny hesitated, and then straightened her shoulders. Her arms moved away from her sides, almost imperceptibly. Nanny and Magrat moved away slightly.

"If that's what you want."

"My voodoo against your... headology?"

"If you like."

"And what's the stake?"

"No more magic in the affairs of Genua," said Granny. "No more stories. No more godmothers. Just people, deciding for themselves. For good or bad. Right or wrong."

"Okay."

"And you leave Lily Weatherwax to me."

Mrs Gogol's intake of breath was heard around the hall.

"Never!"

"Hmm?" said Granny. "You don't think you're going to lose, do you?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Mistress Weatherwax," said Mrs Gogol.

"That's good," said Granny. "I don't want you to hurt me either."

"I don't want there to be any fighting," said Ella.

They all looked at her.

"She's the ruler now, ain't she?" said Granny. "We've got to listen to what she says."

"I'll keep out of the city," said Mrs Gogol, ignoring her, "but Lilith is mine."

"No."

Mrs Gogol reached into her bag, and flourished the raggedy doll. "See this?"

"Yes. I do," said Granny.

"It was going to be her. Don't let it be you."

"Sorry, Mrs Gogol," said Granny firmly, "but I see my duty plain."

"You're a clever woman, Mistress Weatherwax. But you're a long way from home."

Granny shrugged. Mrs Gogol held up the doll by its waist. It had sapphire blue eyes.

"You know about magic with mirrors? This is my kind of mirror, Mistress Weatherwax. I can make it be you. And then I can make it suffer. Don't make me do that. Please."

"Please yourself, Mrs Gogol. But I'll deal with Lily."

"I should box a bit clever if I was you, Esme," muttered Nanny Ogg. "She's good at this sort of thing."

"I think she could be very ruthless," said Magrat.

"I've got nothing but the greatest respect for Mrs Gogol," said Granny. "A fine woman. But talks a bit too much. If I was her, I'd have had a couple of big nails right through that thing by now."

"You would, too," said Nanny. "It's a good thing you're good, ain't it."

"Right," said Granny, raising her voice again. "I'm going to find my sister, Mrs Gogol. This is family."

She walked steadfastly towards the stairs.

Magrat took out the wand.

"If she does anything bad to Granny, she's going to go through the rest of her life bright orange and round, with seeds in," she said.

"I don't think Esme would like it if you did something like that," said Nanny. "Don't worry. She doesn't believe all that stuff about pins and dolls."

"She doesn't believe anything. But that doesn't matter!" said Magrat. "Mrs Gogol does! It's her power! It's what she thinks that matters."

"Don't you reckon Esme knows that too?"

Granny Weatherwax reached the foot of the stairs.

"Mistress Weatherwax!"

Granny turned.

Mrs Gogol had a long sliver of wood in her hand. Shaking her head desperately, she jabbed it into the doll's foot.

Everyone saw Esme Weatherwax wince.

Another sliver was thrust into a raggedy arm.

Slowly, Granny raised her other hand and shuddered when she touched her sleeve. Then, limping slightly, she continued to climb the stairs.

"I can do the heart next. Mistress Weatherwax!" shouted Mrs Gogol.

"I'm sure you can. You're good at it. You know you're good at it," said Granny, without looking around.

Mrs Gogol stuck another sliver into a leg. Granny sagged, and clutched at the banister. Beside her, one of the big torches flamed.

"Next time!" said Mrs Gogol. "Right? Next time. I can do it!"

Granny turned around.

She looked at the hundreds of upturned faces.

When she spoke, her voice was so quiet that they had to strain to hear.

"I know you can too, Mrs Gogol. You really believe. Just remind me again- we're playin' for Lily, right? And for the city?"

"What does that matter now?" said Mrs Gogol. "Ain't you going to give in?"

Granny Weatherwax thrust a little finger into her ear and wiggled it thoughtfully.

"No," she said. "No, I don't reckon that's what I do now. Are you watchin', Mrs Gogol? Are you watchin' real close?"