Witches Abroad - Terry Pratchett [71]
“Oh yes I is, Mistress Weatherwax. I never bin nothing else, just like you.”
“You brought us here?”
“No. You brought yourselves here. Of your own free will. To help someone, ain’t that right? You decided to do it, ain’t that right? No one forced you, ain’t that right? ’Cept yourselves.”
“She’s right about all that,” said Nanny. “We’d have felt it, if it was magic.”
“That’s right,” said Granny. “No one forced us, except ourselves. What’s your game, Mrs. Gogol?”
“I ain’t playing no game, Mistress Weatherwax. I just want back what’s mine. I want justice. And I wants her stopped.”
“Her who?” said Nanny Ogg.
Granny’s face had frozen into a mask.
“Her who’s behind all this,” said Mrs. Gogol. “The Duc hasn’t got the brains of a prawn, Mrs. Ogg. I mean her. Her with her mirror magic. Her who likes to control. Her who’s in charge. Her who’s tinkering with destiny. Her that Mistress Weatherwax knows all about.”
Nanny Ogg was lost.
“What’s she talking about, Esme?” she said.
Granny muttered something.
“What? Didn’t hear you,” Nanny said.
Granny Weatherwax looked up, her face red with anger.
“She means my sister, Gytha! Right? Got that? Do you understand? Did you hear? My sister! Want me to repeat it again? Want to know who she’s talking about? You want me to write it down? My sister! That’s who! My sister!”
“They’re sisters?” said Magrat.
Her tea had gone cold.
“I don’t know,” said Ella. “They look…alike. They keep themselves to themselves most of the time. But I can feel them watching. They’re very good at watching.”
“And they make you do all the work?” she said.
“Well, I only have to cook for myself and the outside staff,” said Ella. “And I don’t mind the cleaning and the laundry all that much.”
“Do they do their own cooking, then?”
“I don’t think so. They walk around the house at night, after I’ve gone to bed. Godmother Lilith says I must be kind to them and pity them because they can’t talk, and always see that we’ve got plenty of cheese in the larder.”
“They eat nothing but cheese?” said Magrat.
“I don’t think so,” said Ella.
“I should think the rats and mice get it, then, in an old place like this.”
“You know, it’s a funny thing,” said Ella, “but I’ve never seen a mouse anywhere in this house.”
Magrat shivered. She felt watched.
“Why don’t you just walk away? I would.”
“Where to? Anyway, they always find me. Or they send the coachmen and grooms after me.”
“That’s horrible!”
“I’m sure they think that sooner or later I’ll marry anyone to get away from laundry,” said Ella. “Not that the Prince’s clothes get washed, I expect,” she added bitterly. “I expect they get burned after he’s worn them.”
“What you want to do is make a career of your own,” said Magrat encouragingly, to keep her spirits up. “You want to be your own woman. You want to emancipate yourself.”
“I don’t think I want to do that,” said Ella, speaking with caution in case it was a sin to offend a fairy godmother.
“You do really,” said Magrat.
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t have to marry anyone you don’t want to.”
Ella sat back.
“How good are you?” she said.
“Er…well…I suppose I—”
“The dress arrived yesterday,” said Ella. “It’s up in the big front room, on a stand so it doesn’t get creased. So that it stays perfect. And they’ve polished up the coach specially. They’ve hired extra footmen, too.”
“Yes, but perhaps—”
“I think I’m going to have to marry someone I don’t want to,” said Ella.
Granny Weatherwax strode up and down the driftwood balcony. The whole shack trembled to her stamping. Ripples spread out as it bounced on the water.
“Of course you don’t remember her!” she shouted. “Our mam kicked her out when she was thirteen! We was both tiny then! But I remember the rows! I used to hear them when I was in bed! She was wanton!”
“You always used to say I was wanton, when we was younger,” said Nanny.
Granny hesitated, caught momentarily off balance. Then she waved a hand irritably.
“You was, of course,” she said dismissively. “But you never used magic for it, did you?”
“Din’t have to,” said Nanny happily. “An off-the-shoulder