This time a slightly longer chapter. Back to the Granny perspective.

Enjoy and review, please:D

The treacle light of the Discworld sun was slowly smearing the landscape. Granny woke up as the first drops of it hit her windows with an unheard "gloop". A crow was pecking at the window incessantly. It was the same bird she had used so often lately. The world seemed at ease with itself. It was the usual wolf-eat-rabbit place she had become accustomed to. But recent events, i.e. the visit from Death, had their own weight on Granny's mind.

She had made all preparations for this journey. A bag full of clean lingerie, a couple of odds and ends and, against her better judgment, a part of a mirror. She had all the hair pins stuck in her hat, and...

"Oh, all right, you little bugger, I'm on my way!" The crow was starting to become annoying. So, where was she... Ah, yes, the list of things to do. Well, not much of a list, really; a witch always planned ahead, if a "whatever will be, will be" can be called planning forward, but even this was quite a two liner:

Goe see Magrat and Nanny.

Goe to Uberwalde.

The 'plan' was simple enough; she was going to talk to Magrat 'the Queen' and tell her she will be missing a witch for an indefinite time, and then she was going to take Nanny with her by telling her not to follow. She knew very well that Gytha could tell when she used headology, but she didn't mind. It made the whole thing easier.

After feeding the crow some old quail eggs the bird thought were eyes, Granny took her hat and her hood – Uberwald is well known for its fogs and cold, windy storms – and set off towards the palace.

The gates of the castle – actually the big doors, since the castle had no looming, impressive gates – were guarded as usual by the ever faithful Shawn Ogg.

"Granny Weatherwax!" he saluted, hitting his overlarge helmet too hard and swaying a little while fumbling for the trumpet. To Granny's displeasure he started blowing a rather tuneless melody, a requirement, no doubt of King Verence. Well, she was bloody well not going to stand for this!

"Shawn, you ain't blowing that trumpet every time I'll enter a room! And no buts, young man!" Granny was firm, if not mountain-still, and Shawn's face sagged along with his trumpet.

"But..." A sharp look from Granny and he was quiet. The witch always gave him the willies. He fought his way through the maze of doors and rooms and corridors, taking, as always, his responsibilities a little too seriously, and, out of breath, finally opened the door to the Queen's chamber. Magrat was at a wooden table, surrounded by papers that had a certain official look to them. She raised her head when they entered just in time to see Shawn give the last, and now shaky, traditional bow after opening a door. She sighed.

"Shawn, how many times have I told you, you don't have to ceremoniously open every door on someone's way." The man had his nerves stretched to the limits. Since Verence had started reading all about kingship and began assigning new tasks to Shawn, the poor man had become a trifle loony. And this was all due to the typical Lancre literal thinking. It was one thing to say "All personnel must take a reverential bow in the presence of important guests," and a whole other to understand "Since you are almost any and all personnel, you must do all of these things every time you enter a room." It was demanding too much of the poor man.

"My lady, Mistress..." began Shawn still trying to regain his breath.

"Yes, Shawn, I know who it is. You may go."

Shawn tripped, got back up, and, swaying, managed to get out and close the door. Granny was standing stiffly, watching this charade with an impassive, if a bit too so, face.

"We must talk." It was more than an assertion, it was a command.

"Yes, Granny, what is it, I'm a bit..." The Look, Magrat was getting the Look.

"I see queening is starting to get to your head." Again, the same kind of simple phrase that sounded like an exclamation when processed by the brain.

"Granny, I've really been busy, what with all the new things Verence wants to do and all, and..."

"Yes, yes, it can wait. There's a problem that needs solving..."

"If you're suggesting I come, you..." She interrupted Granny, she actually cut her off! No one had ever got away with that. And she was one step away of calling her daft. Maybe queening was getting to her head. Magrats heart was sinking faster than the Titanic. "... I mean I can't just leave all this!" But she was the Queen, for gods' sakes. "You will have to take Nanny only."

"Magrat Garlick! You watch your tone, or I'll just go and tell you nothing more! Didn't Gammer Beavis..."

"May she rest in peace..."

"... may she rest in peace, yes, didn't she ever tell you to show respect to older witches?" Granny was furious. The nerve!

"Yes, Granny, but I also think that a Queen..."

"Yes, a 'queen'." The tone was blunt, axe-blunt, however, which doesn't count when a 50 pounds blade reaches your neck at full speed. A pause. Magrat knew what Granny meant. She looked in those blue eyes and saw, besides fury, something else, some flicker of... but there was nothing there anymore. Granny was good at headology, after all. She should have known she couldn't have, shouldn't have looked there.

"It's serious, isn't it?" Magrat's tone was softer, almost bashful.

"You can bloody well bet it is! But since you are a queen now, not a witch, I'll not bother you with unimportant things like the destruction of the Disc. I'm leaving!" And I may not be coming back, was what her mouth was itching to say, but a witch knows better. "Good day!" and Granny turned to leave.

"Wait! I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." Magrat sounded downright mournful, now. She'd got nasty replies before, but never like this. This was serious.

"Well, you'd better be sorry!" Granny stopped and looked at the young woman for a second. Magrat had always been soppy, and Granny'd never liked it, and now that she was finally building up some courage, some self esteem, Granny was stopping her. "Death came," she went on, on far softer tones, "and asked me to take care of a certain matter."

"Death? Black cowl and scythe and all?

"Yes, of course him, who else?" Sigh. "I must first find out what's goin' on and then I must fix it. The bad part is that I can't tell you any more, or the universe'll come crashing down on us."

"Is it that serious?" Curiosity and awe were clear in Magrat's voice. She was being soppy again.

"Serious, yes, that the universe'll end, I doubt it. I think He just didn't want me to spread the word too much." Before Magrat could say anything, Granny lifted a finger to shut her down. She took a good look at the room, cursing the fact that she'd forgotten to do this before, and, seeing no mirror, she let down her arm. "You've got no mirror?"

"No, Verence took the old one and had a new one made in Ankh-Morpork. He said he wanted me to have a mirror fit for a queen." She couldn't help blushing and she smiled shyly.

"You should postpone the new mirror." Granny looked at Magrat sideways and loosened up a bit. "I just wanted you to know that I'll be gone and I don't know when" or if, she thought, "I'm coming back." She turned to leave, then, remembering something, she stopped. "Has anyone come to take your license, by any chance?"

"No, a witch came a couple of days ago, though, to try to tell me more about those pieces of paper. I sent her off."

"Good. Did she say where she was from?" Magrat gave Granny a narrow-eyed look.

"No, why?"

"That's none of your business. Anyway, I'm sure you'll keep the country safe while I'm gone."

"Of course!" A touch of pride filled Magrat's voice.

"Good, 'couse you'll be alone." Granny turned and walked away. Magrat was frowning.

"What do you...? Oh!" But her shout was for nothing. Granny had left already. She was now alone. She was standing. She gave the papers on the desk a far-away look.

"Verence! Verence! About that mirror..."