Wintersmith - Terry Pratchett [83]
Tiffany did—something that it would be impossible for her to describe, and the voice ended up like a distant insect.
It was lonely on the hill, and cold. And all you could do was keep going. You could scream, cry, and stamp your feet, but apart from making you feel warmer, it wouldn’t do any good. You could say it was unfair, and that was true, but the universe didn’t care because it didn’t know what “fair” meant. That was the big problem about being a witch. It was up to you. It was always up to you.
Hogswatch came, with more snow and some presents. Nothing from home, even though some coaches were getting through. She told herself there was probably a good reason, and tried to believe it.
It was the shortest day of the year, which was convenient because it fitted neatly with the longest night. This was the heart of winter, but Tiffany didn’t expect the present that arrived the next day.
It had been snowing hard, but the evening sky was pink and blue and freezing.
It came out of the pink evening sky with a whistling noise and landed in Nanny Ogg’s garden, throwing up a shower of dirt and leaving a big hole.
“Well, that’s good-bye to the cabbages,” said Nanny, looking out the window.
Steam was rising from the hole when they went outside, and there was a strong smell of sprouts.
Tiffany peered through the steam. Dirt and stalks covered the thing, but she could make out something rounded.
She let herself slide farther into the hole, right down amid the mud and steam and the mysterious thing. It wasn’t very hot now, and as she scraped stuff away, she began to have a nasty feeling that she knew what it was.
It was, she was sure, the “thingy” that Anoia had talked about. It looked mysterious enough. And as it emerged from the mud, she knew she’d seen it before.
“Are you all right down there? I can’t see you for all this steam!” Nanny Ogg called. By the sound of it, the neighbors had come running; there was some excited chattering.
Tiffany quickly scraped mud and mashed cabbages over the arrival and called up, “I think this might explode. Tell everyone to get indoors! And then reach down and grab my hand, will you?”
There was some shouting above her and the sound of running feet. Nanny Ogg’s hand appeared, waving around in the fog, and between them they got Tiffany out of the hole.
“Shall we hide under the kitchen table?” said Nanny as Tiffany tried to brush mud and cabbage off her dress. Then Nanny winked. “If it is going to explode?”
Her son Shawn came around the house with a bucket of water in each hand and stopped, looking disappointed that there was nothing to do with them.
“What was it, Mum?” he panted.
Nanny looked at Tiffany, who said: “Er…a giant rock fell out of the sky.”
“Giant rocks can’t stay up in the sky, miss!” said Shawn.
“I expect that’s why this one fell down, lad,” said Nanny briskly. “If you want to do something useful, you can stand guard and make sure nobody comes near it.”
“What shall I do if it explodes, Mum?”
“Come and tell me, will you?” said Nanny.
She hurried Tiffany into the cottage, shut the door behind them, and said: “I’m a dreadful ol’ liar, Tiff, and it takes one to know one. What’s down there?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s going to explode,” said Tiffany. “And if it did, I think the worse that’d happen is that we’d be covered in coleslaw. I think it’s the Cornucopia.”
There was the sound of voices outside and the door was flung open.
“Blessings be upon this house,” said Granny Weatherwax, stamping snow off her boots. “Your boy said I shouldn’t come in, but I think he was wrong. I came as quick as I could. What’s happened?”
“We’ve got cornucopias,” said Nanny Ogg, “whatever they are.”
It was later that evening. They’d waited until it was dark before pulling the Cornucopia out of the hole. It was a lot lighter than Tiffany had expected; in fact it had an air about it of something very, very heavy which, for reasons of its own, had become light just for a while.
Now it was on the kitchen table,