"Oh! It's easy to get Feegles out of a pub. You just have to know how."
"And how, pray tell," said the beleaguered barman, "does one get Feegles out of a pub?"
Tiffany Aching cleared her throat and climbed up to stand on the bar. "Some schemie at the standin' stones is lookin' fer a tussle!"
The barman joined her on her perch as the Feegles stampeded out of the bar and towards the standing stones. The very distant standing stones.
Tiffany climbed back down. "They'll have a fight, all right. Mostly with each other. And by then you'll have closed up while you have the chance."
"All right," said the barman, currently glad just to have them gone. "How do I keep them out?"
Tiffany handed over a small card with a sigil on it. "They're not great at reading, but if they see this mark, they know I'll be angry if your property goes missing."
"I'll make sure to put it near floor height, mistress."
"Good." Tiffany nodded. "And in return, I expect you to keep away from gambling and strong drink in combination, Habeus Carter. If I have to see to your wife's bruises or your kiddies' broken arms again, there will be a reckoning."
The barman went white. "Yes'm."
And he knew something of what a reckoning would look like. Those little blue men were just a glimpse of the terrible curses a witch could visit on a man.