Wintersmith - Terry Pratchett [84]
“According to Chaffinch,” she said, with the Mythology open on her lap, “the god Blind Io created the Cornucopia from a horn of the magical goat Almeg to feed his two children by the Goddess Bisonomy, who was later turned into a shower of oysters by Epidity, God of Things Shaped like Potatoes, after insulting Resonata, Goddess of Weasels, by throwing a mole at her shadow. It is now the badge of office of the summer goddess.”
“I always said there used to be far too much of that sort of thing in the old days,” said Granny Weatherwax.
The witches stared at the thing. It did look a bit like a goat horn, but much larger.
“How does it work?” said Nanny Ogg. She stuck her head inside it and shouted “Hello!” Helloes came back, echoing for a long time, as if they had gone much farther than you would expect them to.
“Looks like a great big seashell to me,” was the opinion of Granny Weatherwax. The kitten You padded around the giant thing, sniffing daintily at it. (Greebo was hiding behind the saucepans on the top shelf. Tiffany checked.)
“I don’t think anyone knows,” she said. “But the other name for it is The Horn of Plenty.”
“A horn? Can you play a tune on it?” asked Nanny.
“I don’t think so,” said Tiffany. “It contains…er…things.”
“What sort of things?” said Granny Weatherwax.
“Well, technically…everything,” said Tiffany. “Everything that grows.”
She showed them the picture in the book. All sorts of fruits, vegetables, and grain were spilling from the Cornucopia’s wide mouth.
“Mostly fruit, though,” said Nanny. “Not many carrots, but I suppose they’re up in the pointy end. They’d fit better there.”
“Typical artist,” said Granny. “He just painted the showy stuff in the front. Too proud to paint an honest potato!” She poked at the page with an accusing finger. “And what about these cherubs? We’re not going to get them too, are we? I don’t like to see little babies flying through the air.”
“They turn up a lot in old paintings,” said Nanny Ogg. “They put them in to show it’s Art and not just naughty pictures of ladies with not many clothes on.”
“Well, they’re not fooling me,” said Granny Weatherwax.
“Go on, Tiff, give it a go,” said Nanny Ogg, walking around the table.
“I don’t know how!” said Tiffany. “There aren’t any instructions!”
And then, too late, Granny shouted: “You! Come out of there!”
But with a flick of her tail the white kitten trotted inside.
They banged on the horn. They held it upside down and shook it. They tried shouting down it. They put a saucer of milk in front of it and waited. The kitten didn’t return. Then Nanny Ogg prodded gently inside the Cornucopia with a mop, which to no one’s great surprise went farther inside the Cornucopia than there was Cornucopia on the outside.
“She’ll come out when she’s hungry,” she said reassuringly.
“Not if she finds something to eat in there,” said Granny Weatherwax, peering into the dark.
“I shouldn’t think she’ll find cat food,” said Tiffany, examining the picture closely. “There may be milk, though.”
“You! Come out of there this minute!” Granny commanded in a voice fit to shake mountains.
There was a distant meep.
“Perhaps she’s got stuck?” said Nanny. “I mean, it’s like a spiral, growing smaller at the end, right? Cats ain’t very big at goin’ backward.”
Tiffany saw the look on Granny’s face and sighed.
“Feegles?” she said to the room in general. “I know there are some of you in this room. Come out, please!”
Feegles appeared from behind every ornament. Tiffany tapped the Cornucopia.
“Can you get a little kitten out of here?” she asked.
“Just that? Aye, nae problemo,” said Rob Anybody. “I wuz hopin’ it was gonna be something difficult!”
The Nac Mac Feegles disappeared into the Horn at a trot. Their voices died away. The witches waited.
They waited some more.
And some more.
“Feegles!” shouted Tiffany into the hole. She thought she heard a very distant, very faint “Crivens!”
“If it can produce