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They never came round to complain about me, said Nanny happily.
And always looking at herself in mirrors, said Granny. Prideful as a cat, she was. Prefer to look in a mirror than out of a window, she would.
Whats her name?
Lily.
Thats a nice name, said Nanny.
It isnt what she calls herself now, said Mrs Gogol.
I bet it isnt!
And shes, like, in charge of the city? said Nanny.
She was bossy, too!
Whatd she want to be in charge of a city for? said Nanny.
Shes got plans, said Mrs Gogol.
And vain? Really vainl said Granny, apparently to the world in general.
Did you know she was here? said Nanny.
I had a feelin! Mirrors!
Mirror magic isnt bad, protested Nanny. Ive done all kinds of stuff with mirrors. You can have a lot of fun with a mirror.
She doesnt just use one mirror, said Mrs Gogol.
Oh.
She uses two.
Oh. Thats different.
Granny stared at the surface of the water. Her own face stared back at her from the darkness.
She hoped it was her own face, anyway.
Ive felt her watchin us, the whole way here, she said. Thats where shes happiest, inside mirrors. Inside mirrors, making people into stories.
She prodded the image with a stick. She even got a look at me in Desideratas house, just before Magrat came in. It aint nice, seeing someone else in your reflection -
She paused. Where is Magrat, anyway?
Out fairy godmothering, I think, said Nanny. She said she didnt need any help.
Magrat was annoyed. She was also frightened, which made her even more annoyed. It was hard for people when Magrat was annoyed. It was like being attacked by damp tissue.
You have my personal word on it, she said. You dont have to go to the ball if you dont want to.
You wont be able to stop them, said Ella darkly. I know how things work in this city.
Look, I said you wont have to go! said Magrat.
She looked thoughtful.
There isnt someone else youd rather marry, is there? she said.
No. I dont know many people. I dont get much chance.
Good, said Magrat. That makes it easier. I suggest we get you out of here and - and take you somewhere else.
There isnt anywhere else. I told you. Theres just swamp. I tried once or twice, and they sent the coachmen after me. They werent unkind. The coachmen, I mean. Theyre just afraid. Everyones afraid. Even the Sisters are afraid, I think.
Magrat looked around at the shadows.
What of? she said.
They say that people disappear. If they upset the Duc. Something happens to them. Everyones very polite in Genua, said Ella sourly. And no-one steals and no-one raises their voice and everyone stays indoors at night, except when its Fat Tuesday. She sighed. Now thats something Id like to go to. To the carnival. They always make me stay in, though. But I hear it passing through the city and I think: thats what Genua ought to be. Not a few people dancing in palaces, but everyone dancing in the streets.
Magrat shook herself. She felt a long way from home.
I think perhaps I might need a bit of help with this one, she said.
Youve got a wand, said Ella.
I think theres times when you need more than a wand, said Magrat. She stood up.
But Ill tell you this, she said. I dont like this house. I dont like this city. Emberella?
Yes?
You wont go to the ball. Ill make sure of that -
She turned around.
I told you, murmured Ella, looking down. You cant even hear them.
One of the sisters was at the top of the steps leading into the kitchen. Her gaze was fixed immovably on Magrat.
They say that everyone has the attributes of some kind of animal. Magrat possibly had a direct mental link to some small furry creature. She felt the terror of all small rodents in the face of unblinking death. Modulated over the menace of the gaze were all sorts of messages: the uselessness of flight, the stupidity of resistance, the inevitability of oblivion.
She knew she could do nothing. Her legs werent under her control. It was as if commands were coming straight down that stare and into her spinal cord. The sense of helplessness was almost peaceful . . .
Blessings be upon this house.
The sister spun around much faster than any human should be able to move.
Granny Weatherwax pushed open the door. Oh deary me, she thundered, and lawks.
Yeah, said Nanny Ogg, crowding through the doorway behind her. Lawks too.
Were just a couple of old beggar women, said Granny, striding across the floor.
Begging from house to house, said Nanny Ogg. Not coming directly here by any manner o means.
They each caught one of Magrats elbows and lifted her off her feet.
Granny turned her head.
What about you, Miss?
Ella shook her head without looking up.
No, she said, I mustnt come.
Grannys eyes narrowed. I suppose not, she said. We all have our path to walk, or so it is said, although not by me. Come, Gytha.
Were just off, said Nanny Ogg, brightly.
They turned.
Another sister appeared in the doorway.
Ye gods, said Nanny Ogg. I never saw her move!
We was just going out, said Granny Weatherwax loudly. If its all the same with you, mlady?
She met the stare head-on.
The air tingled.
Then Granny Weatherwax said, between gritted teeth, When I say run, Gytha -
I hear you, said Nanny.
Granny groped behind her and found the teapot Magrat had just used. She weighed it in her hands, keeping the movements slow and gentle.
Ready, Gytha?
Waitin, Esme.
Run!
Granny hurled the teapot high into the air. The heads of both sisters snapped around.
Nanny Ogg helped the stumbling Magrat out of the door. Granny slammed it shut as the nearer sister darted forward, mouth open, too late.
Were leaving the girl in there! shouted Nanny, as they ran down the drive.
Theyre guarding her, said Granny. Theyre not going to harm her!
I aint seen teeth like those on anyone before! said Nanny.
Thats cos they aint anyone! Theyre snakes!
They reached the comparative security of the roadway and leaned against the wall.
Snakes? Nanny wheezed. Magrat opened her eyes.
Its Lilys doing, said Granny. She was good at that kind of thing, I remember.
Really snakes?
Yeah, said Granny darkly. She made friends easily.
Blimey! I couldnt do that.
She didnt used to be able to either, for moren a few seconds. Thats what using mirrors does for you.
I - I - Magrat stuttered.
Youre all right, said Nanny. She looked up at Esme Weatherwax.
We shouldnt leave the girl, whatever you say. In a house with snakes walking around thinking theyre human, she said.
Its worse than that. Theyre walking around thinking theyre snakes, said Granny.
Well, whatever. You never do that sort of thing. The worst you ever did was make people a bit confused about what they was.
Thats because Im the good one, said Granny bitterly.
Magrat shuddered.
So are we going to get her out? said Nanny.
Not yet. Theres going to be a proper time, said Granny. Can you hear me, Magrat Garlick?
Yes, Granny, said Magrat.
Weve got to go somewhere and talk, said Granny. About stories.
What about stories? said Magrat.
Lily is using them, said Granny. Dont you see that? You can feel it in this whole country. The stories collect round here b
ecause heres where they find a way out. She feeds em. Look, she dont want your Ella to marry that Duc man just because of politics or something. Thats just an . . . explanation. S not a reason. She wants the girl to marry the prince because thats what the story demands.
Whats in it for her? said Nanny.
In the middle of em all, the fairy godmother or the wicked witch . . . you remember? Thats where Lily is putting herself, like . . . like . . . she paused, trying to find the right word. Remember that time last year when the circus thing came to Lancre?
I remember, said Nanny. Them girls in the spangly tights and the fellows pourin whitewash down their trousers. Never saw a elephant, though. They said thered be elephants and there wasnt any. It had elephants on the posters. I spent a whole tuppence and there wasnt a single ele -
Yes, but what Im sayin, said Granny, as they hurried along the street, is there was that man in the middle, you remember. With the moustache and the big hat?
Him? But he didnt do anything much, said Nanny. He just stood in the middle of the tent and sometimes he cracked his whip and all the acts just went on round him.
"Thats why he was the most important one there, said Granny. It was the things going on around him that made him important.
Whats Lily feeding the stories? said Magrat.
People, said Granny. She frowned.
Stories! she said. Well, well have to see about that. . .
Green twilight covered Genua. The mists curled up from the swamp.
Torches flared in the streets. In dozens of yards shadowy figures moved, pulling the covers off floats. In the darkness there was a flash of sequins and a jingle of bells.
All year the people of Genua were nice and quiet. But history has always allowed the downtrodden one night somewhere in any calendar to restore temporarily the balance of the world. It might be called the Feast of Fools, or the King of the Bean. Or even Samedi Nuit Mort, when even those with the most taxing and responsible of duties can kick back and have fun.
Most of them, anyway . . .
The coachmen and the footmen were sitting in their shed at one side of the stable yard, eating their dinner and complaining about having to work on Dead Night. They were also engaging in the time-honoured rituals that go therewith, which largely consist of finding out what their wives have packed for them today and envying the other men whose wives obviously cared more.
The head footman raised a crust cautiously.
Ive got chicken neck and pickle, he said. Anyone got any cheese?
The second coachman inspected his box. Its boiled bacon again, he complained. She always gives me boiled bacon. She knows I dont like it. She dont even cut the fat off.
Is it thick white fat? said the first coachman.
Yeah. Horrible. Is this right for a holiday feast or what?
Ill swap you a lettuce and tomato.
Right. Whatnot/ got[?], Jimmy?
The underfootman shyly opened his perfect package. There were four sandwiches, crusts cut off. There was a sprig of parsley. There was even a napkin.
Smoked salmon and cream cheese, he said.
And still a bit of the wedding cake, said the first coachman. Aint you et that all up yet?
We have it every night, said the underfootman.
The shed shook with the ensuing laughter. It is a universal fact that any innocent comment made by any recently-married young member of any workforce is an instant trigger for coarse merriment among his or her older and more cynical colleagues. This happens even if everyone concerned has nine legs and lives at the bottom of an ocean of ammonia on a huge cold planet. Its just one of those things.
You make the most of it, said the second coachman gloomily, when theyd settled down again. It starts off kisses and cake and them cutting the crusts off, and next thing you know its down to tongue pie, cold bum and the copper stick.
The way I see it, the first coachman began, its all about the way you -