Wintersmith - Terry Pratchett [64]
“Is this about sex?” asked Tiffany.
Miss Tick looked at the ceiling. Granny Weatherwax cleared her throat. Nanny gave a huge laugh that would have embarrassed even the little wooden man.
“Sex?” she said. “Between Summer and Winter? Now there’s a thought.”
“Don’t…think…it,” said Granny Weatherwax sternly. She turned to Tiffany. “He’s fascinated by you, that’s what it is. And we don’t know how much of the Summer Lady’s power is in you. She might be quite weak. You’ll have to be a summer in winter until winter ends,” she added flatly. “That’s justice. No excuses. You made a choice. You get what you chose.”
“Couldn’t I just go and find her and say I’m sorry—?” Tiffany began.
“No. The old gods ain’t big on ‘sorry,’” said Granny, pacing up and down again. “They know it’s just a word.”
“You know what I think?” said Nanny. “I think she’s watchin’ you, Tiff. She’s sayin’ to herself, ‘Who’s this hoity-toity young madam steppin’ into my shoes? Well, let’s make her walk a mile in ’em and see how she likes it!’”
“Mrs. Ogg may have something there,” said Miss Tick, who was leafing through Chaffinch’s Mythology. “The gods expect you to pay for your mistakes.”
Nanny Ogg patted Tiffany’s hand. “If she wants to see what you can do, show her what you can do, Tiff, eh? That’s the way! Surprise her!”
“You mean the Summer Lady?” said Tiffany.
Nanny winked. “Oh, and the Summer Lady, too!”
There was what sounded very much like the start of a laugh from Miss Tick before Granny Weatherwax glared at her.
Tiffany sighed. It was all very well to talk about choices, but she had no choice here.
“All right. What else can I expect apart from…well, the feet?”
“I’m, er, checking,” said Miss Tick, still thumbing through the book. “Ah…it says here that she was, I mean is, fairer than all the stars in heaven….”
They all looked at Tiffany.
“You could try doing something with your hair,” said Nanny Ogg after a while.
“Like what?” said Tiffany.
“Like anything, really.”
“Apart from the feet and doing something with my hair,” said Tiffany sharply, “is there anything else?”
“Says here, quoting a very old manuscript: ‘She waketh the grasses in Aprill and filleth the beehives with honey swete,’” Miss Tick reported.
“How do I do that?”
“I don’t know, but I suspect that happens anyway,” said Miss Tick.
“And the Summer Lady gets the credit?”
“I think she just has to exist for it to happen, really,” said Miss Tick.
“Anything else?”
“Er, yes. You have to make sure the winter ends,” said Miss Tick. “And, of course, deal with the Wintersmith.”
“And how do I do that?”
“We think that you just have to…be there,” said Granny Weatherwax. “Or perhaps you’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
Meep.
“Be where?” said Tiffany.
“Everywhere. Anywhere.”
“Granny, your hat squeaked,” said Tiffany. “It went meep!”
“No it didn’t,” Granny said sharply.
“It did, you know,” said Nanny Ogg. “I heard it too.”
Granny Weatherwax grunted and pulled off her hat. The white kitten, curled around her tight bun of hair, blinked in the light.
“I can’t help it,” Granny muttered. “If I leave the dratted thing alone, it goes under the dresser and cries and cries.” She looked around at the others as if daring them to say anything. “Anyway,” she added, “it keeps m’ head warm.”
On his chair, the yellow slit of Greebo’s left eye opened lazily.
“Get down, You,” said Granny, lifting the kitten off her head and putting it on the floor. “I daresay Mrs. Ogg has got some milk in the kitchen.”
“Not much,” said Nanny. “I’ll swear something’s been drinking it!”
Greebo’s eye opened all the way, and he began to growl softly.
“You sure you know what you’re doing, Esme?” said Nanny Ogg, reaching for a cushion to throw. “He’s very protective of his territory.”
You the kitten sat on the floor and washed her ears. Then, as Greebo got to his feet, she fixed him with an innocent little stare and took a flying leap onto