Witches Abroad - Terry Pratchett [100]
“If that’s what you want.”
“My voodoo against your…headology?”
“If you like.”
“And what’s the stake?”
“No more magic in the affairs of Genua,” said Granny. “No more stories. No more godmothers. Just people, deciding for themselves. For good or bad. Right or wrong.”
“Okay.”
“And you leave Lily Weatherwax to me.”
Mrs. Gogol’s intake of breath was heard around the hall.
“Never!”
“Hmm?” said Granny. “You don’t think you’re going to lose, do you?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Mistress Weatherwax,” said Mrs. Gogol.
“That’s good,” said Granny. “I don’t want you to hurt me either.”
“I don’t want there to be any fighting,” said Ella.
They all looked at her.
“She’s the ruler now, ain’t she?” said Granny. “We’ve got to listen to what she says.”
“I’ll keep out of the city,” said Mrs. Gogol, ignoring her, “but Lilith is mine.”
“No.”
Mrs. Gogol reached into her bag, and flourished the raggedy doll.
“See this?”
“Yes. I do,” said Granny.
“It was going to be her. Don’t let it be you.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Gogol,” said Granny firmly, “but I see my duty plain.”
“You’re a clever woman, Mistress Weatherwax. But you’re a long way from home.”
Granny shrugged. Mrs. Gogol held up the doll by its waist. It had sapphire blue eyes.
“You know about magic with mirrors? This is my kind of mirror, Mistress Weatherwax. I can make it be you. And then I can make it suffer. Don’t make me do that. Please.”
“Please yourself, Mrs. Gogol. But I’ll deal with Lily.”
“I should box a bit clever if I was you, Esme,” muttered Nanny Ogg. “She’s good at this sort of thing.”
“I think she could be very ruthless,” said Magrat.
“I’ve got nothing but the greatest respect for Mrs. Gogol,” said Granny. “A fine woman. But talks a bit too much. If I was her, I’d have had a couple of big nails right through that thing by now.”
“You would, too,” said Nanny. “It’s a good thing you’re good, ain’t it.”
“Right,” said Granny, raising her voice again. “I’m going to find my sister, Mrs. Gogol. This is family.”
She walked steadfastly toward the stairs.
Magrat took out the wand.
“If she does anything bad to Granny, she’s going to go through the rest of her life bright orange and round, with seeds in,” she said.
“I don’t think Esme would like it if you did something like that,” said Nanny. “Don’t worry. She doesn’t believe all that stuff about pins and dolls.”
“She doesn’t believe anything. But that doesn’t matter!” said Magrat. “Mrs. Gogol does! It’s her power! It’s what she thinks that matters.”
“Don’t you reckon Esme knows that too?”
Granny Weatherwax reached the foot of the stairs.
“Mistress Weatherwax!”
Granny turned.
Mrs. Gogol had a long sliver of wood in her hand. Shaking her head desperately, she jabbed it into the doll’s foot.
Everyone saw Esme Weatherwax wince.
Another sliver was thrust into a raggedy arm.
Slowly, Granny raised her other hand and shuddered when she touched her sleeve. Then, limping slightly, she continued to climb the stairs.
“I can do the heart next, Mistress Weatherwax!” shouted Mrs. Gogol.
“I’m sure you can. You’re good at it. You know you’re good at it,” said Granny, without looking around.
Mrs. Gogol stuck another sliver into a leg. Granny sagged, and clutched at the banister. Beside her, one of the big torches flamed.
“Next time!” said Mrs. Gogol. “Right? Next time. I can do it!”
Granny turned around.
She looked at the hundreds of upturned faces.
When she spoke, her voice was so quiet that they had to strain to hear.
“I know you can too, Mrs. Gogol. You really believe. Just remind me again—we’re playin’ for Lily, right? And for the city?”
“What does that matter now?” said Mrs. Gogol. “Ain’t you going to give in?”
Granny Weatherwax thrust a little finger into her ear and wiggled it thoughtfully.
“No,” she said. “No, I don’t reckon that’s what I do now. Are you watchin’, Mrs. Gogol? Are you watchin’ real close?”
Her gaze traveled the room and rested for just a fraction of a second on Magrat.
Then she reached over, carefully, and thrust her arm up to the elbow into the burning