A Hat Full Of Sky - Terry Pratchett [90]
Completely binkers! said a cheerful voice at the back of Tiffany’s memory. You just couldn’t keep Dr. Bustle down.
Pity us, yes, pity us, said the voices of the hiver. No shield for us, no rest for us, no sanctuary. But you, you withstood us. We saw that in you. You have minds within minds. Hide us!
“You want silence?” said Tiffany.
Yes, and more than silence, said the voice of the hiver. You humans are so good at ignoring things. You are almost blind and almost deaf. You look at a tree and see…just a tree, a stiff weed. You don’t see its history, feel the pumping of the sap, hear every insect in the bark, sense the chemistry of the leaves, notice the hundred shades of green, the tiny movements to follow the sun, the subtle growth of the wood…
“But you don’t understand us,” said Tiffany. “I don’t think any human could survive you. You give us what you think we want, as soon as we want it, just like in fairy stories. And the wishes always go wrong.”
Yes. We know that now. We have an echo of you now. We have…understanding, said the hiver. So now we come to you with a wish. It is the wish that puts the others right.
“Yes,” said Tiffany. “That’s always the last wish, the third wish. It’s the one that says ‘Make this not have happened.’”
Teach us the way to die, said the voices of the hiver.
“I don’t know it!”
All humans know the way, said the voices of the hiver. You walk it every day of your short, short lives. You know it. We envy you your knowledge. You know how to end. You are very talented.
I must know how to die, Tiffany thought. Somewhere deep down. Let me think. Let me get past the “I can’t.”…
She held up the glittering shamble. Shafts of light still spun off it, but she didn’t need it anymore. She could hold the power in the center of herself. It was all a matter of balance.
The light died. Rob Anybody was still hanging in the threads, but all his hair had come unplaited and stood out from his head in a great red ball. He looked stunned.
“I could just murrrder a kebab,” he said.
Tiffany lowered him to the ground, where he swayed slightly; then she put the rest of the shamble in her pocket.
“Thank you, Rob,” she said. “But I want you to go now. It could get…serious.”
It was, of course, the wrong thing to say.
“I’m no’ leavin’!” he snapped. “I promised Jeannie to keep ye safe! Let’s get on wi’ it!”
There was no arguing. Rob was standing in that half crouch of his, fists bunched, chin out, ready for anything and burning with defiance.
“Thank you,” said Tiffany, and straightened up.
Death is right behind us, she thought. Life ends, and there’s death, waiting. So…it must be close. Very close.
It would be…a door. Yes. An old door, old wood. Dark, too.
She turned. Behind her, there was a black door in the air.
The hinges would creak, she thought.
When she pushed it open, they did.
So-oo…she thought, this isn’t exactly real. I’m telling myself a story I can understand, about doors, and I’m fooling myself just enough for it all to work. I just have to keep balanced on that edge for it to go on working, too. That’s as hard as not thinking about a pink rhinoceros. And if Granny Weatherwax can do that, I can too.
Beyond the door, black sand stretched away under a sky of pale stars. There were some mountains on the distant horizon.
You must help us through, said the voices of the hiver.
“If you’ll tak’ my advice, you’ll no’ do that,” said Rob Anybody from Tiffany’s ankle. “I dinna trust the scunner one wee bitty!”
“There’s part of me in there. I trust that,” she said. “I did say you don’t have to come, Rob.”
“Oh, aye? An’ I’m tae see ye go through there alone, am I? Ye’ll not find me leavin’ ye now!”
“You’ve got a clan and a wife, Rob!”
“Aye, an’ so I willna dishonor them by lettin’ yer step across Death’s threshold alone,” said Rob Anybody firmly.
So, thought Tiffany as she stared through the doorway, this is what we do. We live on