Witches Abroad - Terry Pratchett [101]
And the doll in Erzulie Gogol’s hands burst into flame.
It went on blazing even after the witch had screamed and dropped it onto the floor. It went on burning until Nanny Ogg ambled over with a jug of fruit juice from the buffet, whistling between her teeth, and put it out.
Granny withdrew her hand. It was unscathed.
“That’s headology,” she said. “It’s the only thing that matters. Everything else is just messin’ about. Hope I didn’t hurt you, Mrs. Gogol.”
She went on up the stairs.
Mrs. Gogol kept on staring at the damp ashes. Nanny Ogg patted her companionably on the shoulder.
“How did she do that?” said Mrs. Gogol.
“She didn’t. She let you do it,” said Nanny. “You got to watch yourself around Esme Weatherwax. I’d like to see one of them Zen buggers come up against her one day.”
“And she’s the good one?” said Baron Saturday.
“Yeah,” said Nanny. “Funny how things work out, really.”
She looked thoughtfully at the empty fruit juice jug in her hand.
“What this needs,” she said, in the manner of one reaching a conclusion after much careful consideration, “is some bananas and rum and stuff in it—”
Magrat grabbed her dress as Nanny strode determinedly dak’rywards.
“Not now,” she said. “We’d better get after Granny! She might need us!”
“Shouldn’t think so for one minute,” said Nanny. “I wouldn’t like to be in Lily’s shoes when Esme catches up with her.”
“But I’ve never seen Granny so agitated,” said Magrat. “Anything could happen.”
“Good job if it does,” said Nanny. She nodded meaningfully at a flunkey who, being quick on the uptake, leapt to attention.
“But she might do something—dreadful.”
“Good. She’s always wanted to,” said Nanny. “Another banana dak’ry, mahatma coat, chop-chop.”
“No. It wouldn’t be a good idea,” Magrat persisted.
“Oh, all right,” said Nanny. She handed the empty jug to Baron Saturday, who took it in a kind of hypnotic daze.
“We’re just going to sort things out,” she said. “Sorry about this. On with the motley…if anyone’s got any left.”
When the witches had gone Mrs. Gogol reached down and picked up the damp remains of the doll.
One or two people coughed.
“Is that it?” said the Baron. “After twelve years?”
“The Prince is dead,” said Mrs. Gogol. “Such as he was.”
“But you promised that I would be revenged on her,” the Baron said.
“I think there will be revenge,” said Mrs. Gogol. She tossed the doll onto the floor. “Lilith has been fighting me for twelve years and she never got through. This one didn’t even have to sweat. So I think there will be revenge.”
“You don’t have to keep your word!”
“I do. I’ve got to keep something.” Mrs. Gogol put her arm around Ella’s shoulder.
“This is it, girl,” she said. “Your palace. Your city. There isn’t a person here who will deny it.”
She glared at the guests. One or two of them stepped backward.
Ella looked up at Saturday.
“I feel I should know you,” she said. She turned to Mrs. Gogol. “And you,” she added. “I’ve seen you both…before. A long time ago?”
Baron Saturday opened his mouth to speak. Mrs. Gogol held up her hand.
“We promised,” she said. “No interference.”
“Not from us?”
“Not even from us.” She turned back to Ella. “We’re just people.”
“You mean…” said Ella, “I’ve slaved in a kitchen for years…and now…I’m supposed to rule the city? Just like that?”
“That’s how it goes.”
Ella looked down, deep in thought.
“And anything I say people have to do?” she said innocently.
There were a few nervous coughs from the crowd.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Gogol.
Ella stood looking down at the floor, idly biting a thumbnail. Then she looked up.
“Then the first thing that’s going to happen is the end of the ball. Right now! I’m going to find the carnival. I’ve always wanted to dance in the carnival.” She looked around at the worried faces. “It’s not compulsory for anyone else to come,” she added.
The nobles of Genua had enough experience to know what it means when a ruler says something is not compulsory.
Within minutes the hall was empty, except for three figures.
“But…but…I wanted revenge,” said the Baron. “I wanted death. I wanted our