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The witches looked around. Eventually Magrat risked, 'You mean in the pub?'
It was cold and draughty in the Great Hall of Lancre Castle, and the new chamberlain's bladder wasn't getting any younger. He stood and squirmed under the gaze of Lady Felmet.
'Oh, yes,' he said. 'We've got them all right. Lots.'
'And people don't do anything about them?' said the duchess.
The said the duchess sternly. 'And we don't propose to allow them here. You will furnish us with their addresses.'
'Addresses, ladyship?'
'Where they live. I trust your tax gatherers know where to find them?'chamberlain blinked. 'I'm sorry?' he said.'People tolerate them?''Oh, indeed,' said the chamberlain happily. 'It's considered good luck to have a witch living in your village. My word, yes.''Why?'The chamberlain hesitated. The last time he had resorted to a witch it had been because certain rectal problems had turned the privy into a daily torture chamber, and the jar of ointment she had prepared had turned the world into a nicer place.'They smooth out life's little humps and bumps,' he said.'Where I come from, we don't allow witches,'
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