[ OT ] I 'd like to take a moment to appreciate Sir Terry Pratchett .

`` When shall we th... four meet again'' asked Nanny Ogg. 
 
 `` Honestly Nanny, can you keep it quiet, you nearly woke the baby'' said Magrat. 
 
 `` Sorry, I'm not used to having to use my indoor voice at a coven meeting,'' 
 
 `` I thought we were supposed to meet around a bonfire?'' Agnes timidly interjected. 
 
 `` Well, yes, technically. But I ca n't go all the way up a mountain dragging Esmerelda around in the cold mountain air, `` replied Magrat, `` besides, in front of the castle's big fireplace is so much more cozy.'' 
 
 `` Humph!'' humphed a voice from the dark corner beside the fireplace ( which was a modern contrivance that Verence had had installed. When fully operational it heated enough water to keep the kitchen supplied and the south visitors wing. ) 
 `` Well it's true Granny.'' 
 
 `` It's not supposed to be cozy, being a witch.'' came the sharp voice of Granny Weatherwax. 
 
 `` Yes Granny,'' agreed Magrat meekly, `` but then again, it's a hard enough job, we should make it simpler and easier where we can.'' 
 
 Nanny smiled to herself, Magrat was getting quite good at handling Granny by agreeing with her. 
 
 `` Why are we meeting, anyways?'' asked Agnes. Granny rolled her eyes, causing Agnes to bristle. 
 
 `` To figure out what happens now that He is gone, of course,'' Magrat quickly interjected. 
 
 `` What's there to figure out? Whatever happens, happens.'' replied Nanny. 
 
 `` Yes Nanny,'' agreed Magrat, `` but what if we need to decide our part to play in what happens?'' 
 
 `` Do n't you be maliciously agreeing with me Magrat Garlick...'' started Nanny. 
 
 `` Excuse me for interrupting dear...'' interrupted Verence. 
 
 `` Wotcher, highness'' 
 
 `` Nanny. `` King Verence gave a respectful nod to each witch. `` I was going up for the night and thought I would take Esmerelda with me.'' 
 
 `` Thank you, that would be lovely.'' Four pairs of eyes inspected every move as the king gently picked up the baby and brought her to his shoulder in the approved of fashion that he had been taught on four separate occasions by four separate witches. 
 
 `` Do you really think that's it?'' asked Magrat, `` are the stories at an end? Will I never see little Esme grow up?'' 
 
 `` Humph'', humphed the dark corner. Nanny looked over, then looked back at Magrat, 
 
 `` I do n't think so Pet. We continue on...'' 
 
 `` Humph...'' 
 
 `` Well honestly Esme, say what you want to say. Do n't sit there humphing like a hephalump.'' 
 
 `` Stories,'' she spat, `` It's all down to stories, and what they need.'' 
 
 `` What story?'' enquired Agnes, `` Are we'changing the momentum of a story' again?'' 
 
 `` Are we in a story?'' asked Magrat. 
 
 `` Magrat Garlick, you are a wet hen. Of course we're in a story, we've always in stories. When you saved that onion farmer, Scrunchion's, baby from a fever, the story went up and down the mountain faster than a broomstick. And that's just it. Stories need two things, a teller and an audience.'' Granny Weatherwax sat back in the comfortable rocking chair that Magrat had placed in the corner for her use, as close to relaxed as she ever was. 
 
 `` And...?'' asked Magrat. 
 
 `` And, the audience becomes the teller. And the stories continue, perhaps not as vibrantly, but they continue. Stories retold, and stories new. And so we continue. Esme will grow up, we grow older, things change and things stay the same.'' She paused, `` And he knew it, and he would n't have wanted it any other way.'' 
 

