Witches Abroad - Terry Pratchett [107]
“It’s got snakes’ heads in it,” said Nanny Ogg.
“Don’t you try to upset me,” said Magrat. “I know the Snake’s Head is a kind of flower. A fritillary, I think. It’s amazing what you can do with flowers, you know.”
Nanny Ogg, who had in fact spent an instructive if gruesome half-hour watching Mrs. Gogol make the stuff, hadn’t the heart to say so.
“That’s right,” she said. “Flowers. No getting anything past you, I can see that.”
Magrat yawned.
They had been given the run of the palace, although no one felt like running anywhere. Granny had been installed in the next room.
“Go and get some sleep,” said Nanny. “I’ll go and take over from Mrs. Gogol in a moment.”
“But Nanny…Gytha…” said Magrat.
“Hmm?”
“All that…stuff…she was saying, when we were traveling. It was so…so cold. Wasn’t it? Not wishing for things, not using magic to help people, not being able to do that fire thing—and then she went and did all those things! What am I supposed to make of that?”
“Ah, well,” said Nanny. “It’s all according to the general and the specific, right?”
“What does that mean?” Magrat lay down on the bed.
“Means when Esme uses words like ‘Everyone’ and ‘No one’ she doesn’t include herself.”
“You know…when you think about it…that’s terrible.”
“That’s witchcraft. Up at the sharp end. And now…get some sleep.”
Magrat was too tired to object. She stretched out and was soon snoring in a genteel sort of way.
Nanny sat and smoked her pipe for a while, staring at the wall.
Then she got up and pushed open the door.
Mrs. Gogol looked up from her stool by the bed.
“You go and get some sleep too,” said Nanny. “I’ll take over for a spell.”
“There’s something not right,” said Mrs. Gogol. “Her hands are fine. She just won’t wake up.”
“It’s all in the mind, with Esme,” said Nanny.
“I could make some new gods and get everyone to believe in ’em real good. How about that?” said Mrs. Gogol. Nanny shook her head.
“I shouldn’t think Esme’d want that. She’s not keen on gods. She thinks they’re a waste of space.”
“I could cook up some gumbo, then. People’ll come a long way to taste that.”
“It might be worth a try,” Nanny conceded. “Every little helps, I always say. Why not see to it? Leave the rum here.”
After the voodoo lady had gone Nanny smoked her pipe some more and drank a little rum in a thoughtful sort of way, looking at the figure on the bed.
Then she bent down close to Granny Weatherwax’s ear, and whispered:
“You ain’t going to lose, are you?”
Granny Weatherwax looked out at the multi-layered, silvery world.
“Where am I?”
INSIDE THE MIRROR.
“Am I dead?”
THE ANSWER TO THAT, said Death, IS SOMEWHERE BETWEEN NO AND YES.
Esme turned, and a billion figures turned with her.
“When can I get out?”
WHEN YOU FIND THE ONE THAT’S REAL.
“Is this a trick question?”
No.
Granny looked down at herself.
“This one,” she said.
And stories just want happy endings. They don’t give a damn who they’re for.
Dear Jason eksetra,
Well so much for Genua but I learned about Mrs. Gogol’s zombie medicin and she gave me the told me how to make banananana dakry and gave me a thing call a banjo youll be amazed and all in all is a decent soul I reckon if you keeps her where you can see her. It looks like we got Esme back but I don’t know shes actin funny and quiet not like herself normally so Im keepin an Eye on her just in case Lily puled a farst one in the mirror. But I think shes geting better because when she woke up she arsked Magrat for a look at the wand and then she kind of twidled and twisted them rings on it and turned the po into a bunch of flowers and Magrat said she could never make the wand do that and Esme said no because, she wasted time wishing for thinges instead of working out how to make them happen. What I say is, what a good job Esme never got a wand when she was young, Lily would have bin a Picnic by comparisen. Enclosed is a picture of the cemtry here you can see folks are buried in boxes above ground the soil being so wet because you dont want