Wintersmith - Terry Pratchett [45]
“I’m just writing a few thank-you letters,” she said. “Some of those ladies today came quite a long way and will be having a chilly ride back.”
“‘Thank you for coming to my funeral’ letters?” asked Tiffany weakly.
“Indeed. And they’re not often written, you may be sure of that. You know the girl Annagramma Hawkin will be the new witch here? I am sure she would like you to stay on. At least for a while.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” said Tiffany.
“Quite,” said Miss Treason smiling. “I suspect the girl Weatherwax has arrangements in mind. It will be interesting to see how Mrs. Earwig’s brand of witchcraft suits my silly people, although it may be best to observe events from behind a rock. Or, in my case, under it.”
She put the letters aside, and both the ravens turned to look at Tiffany.
“You have been here with me only three months.”
“That’s right, Miss Treason.”
“We have not talked, woman to woman. I should have taught you more.”
“I’ve learned a lot, Miss Treason.” And that was true.
“You have a young man, Tiffany. He sends you letters and packages. You go into Lancre Town every week to send letters to him. I fear you live not where you love.”
Tiffany said nothing. They’d been through this before. Roland seemed to fascinate Miss Treason.
“I was always too busy to pay attention to young men,” said Miss Treason. “They were always for later and then later was too late. Pay attention to your young man.”
“Erm…I did say he’s not actually my—” Tiffany began, feeling herself start to blush.
“But do not become a strumpet like Mrs. Ogg,” said Miss Treason.
“I’m not very musical,” said Tiffany uncertainly.
Miss Treason laughed. “You have a dictionary, I believe,” she said. “A strange but useful thing for a girl to have.”
“Yes, Miss Treason.”
“On my bookshelf you will find a rather larger dictionary. An Unexpurgated Dictionary. A useful thing for a young woman to have. You may take it, and one other book. The others will remain with the cottage. You may also have my broomstick. Everything else, of course, belongs to the cottage.”
“Thank you very much, Miss Treason. I’d like to take that book about mythology.”
“Ah, yes. Chaffinch. A very good choice. It has been a great help to me and will, I suspect, be of particular assistance to you. The loom must stay, of course. Annagramma Hawkin will find it useful.”
Tiffany doubted this. Annagramma wasn’t very practical at all. But it was probably not the time to say so.
Miss Treason leaned back against the cushions.
“They think you wove names into your cloth,” said Tiffany.
“That? Oh, it’s true. There’s nothing magical about it. It’s a very old trick. Any weaver can do it. You won’t be able to read it, though, without knowing how it was done.” Miss Treason sighed. “Oh, my silly people. Anything they don’t understand is magic. They think I can see into their hearts, but no witch can do that. Not without surgery, at least. No magic is needed to read their little minds, though. I’ve known them since they were babes. I remember when their grandparents were babes! They think they’re so grown-up! But they’re still no better than babies in the sandpit, squabbling over mud pies. I see their lies and excuses and fears. They never grow up, not really. They never look up and open their eyes. They stay children their whole lives.”
“I’m sure they’ll miss you,” said Tiffany.
“Ha! I’m the wicked ol’ witch, girl. They feared me, and did what they were told! They feared joke skulls and silly stories. I chose fear. I knew they’d never love me for telling ’em the truth, so I made certain of their fear. No, they’ll be relieved to hear the witch is dead. And now I shall tell you something vitally important. It is the secret of my long life.”
Ah, thought Tiffany, and she leaned forward.
“The important thing,” said Miss Treason, “is to stay the passage of the wind. You should avoid rumbustious fruits and vegetables. Beans are the worst, take it from me.”
“I don’t think I understand—” Tiffany began.