Page 18
Granny reached over and gripped Diamandas arm.
“Head for the gap between the Piper and the Drummer!”
“Which ones are they?”
“You dont even know that?”
Humans can outrun a horse, indeed. It was preying on Granny Weatherwaxs mind that no one can outrun an arrow.
Something whined past her ear.
The circle of stones seemed as far away as ever.
Nothing for it. It oughtnt to be possible. Shed only ever tried it seriously when she was lying down, or at least when she had something to lean against.
She tried it now . . .
There were four elves chasing them. She didnt even think about looking into their minds. But the horses . . . ah, the horses . . .
They were carnivores, minds like an arrowhead.
The rules of Borrowing were: you didnt hurt, you just rode inside their heads, you didnt involve the subject in any way . . .
Well, not so much a rule, as such, more of a general guideline.
A stone-tipped arrow went through her hat.
Hardly really a guideline, even.
In fact, not even-
Oh, drat.
She plunged into the lead horses mind, down through the layers of barely controlled madness which is what is inside even a normal horses brain. For a moment she looked out through its bloodshot eyes at her own figure, staggering through the snow. For a moment she was trying to control six legs at once, two of them in a separate body.
In terms of difficulty, playing one tune on a musical instrument and singing a totally different one[20] was a stroll in the country by comparison.
She knew she couldnt do it for more than a few seconds before total confusion overwhelmed mind and body. But a second was all she needed. She let the confusion arise, dumped it in its entirety in the horses mind, and withdrew sharply, picking up control of her own body as it began to fall.
There was one horrible moment in the horses head.
It wasnt sure what it was, or how it had got there. More importantly, it didnt know how many legs it had. There was a choice of two or four, or possibly even six. It compromised on three.
Granny heard it scream and collapse noisily, by the sound of things taking a couple of others with it.
“Hah!”
She risked a look sideways at Diamanda.
Who wasnt there.
She was in the snow some way back, trying with difficulty to get to her feet. The face she turned to Granny was as pale as the snow.
There was an arrow sticking out of her shoulder.
Granny darted back, grabbed the girl and hauled her upright.
“Come on! Nearly there!”
“Cant rn . . . cld . . . ”
Diamanda slumped forward. Granny caught her before she hit the snow and, with a grunt of effort, slung her over her shoulder.
A few more steps, and all she had to do was fall forward . . .
A clawed hand snatched at her dress . . .
And three figures fell, rolling over and over in the summer bracken.
The elf was first to its feet, looking around in dazed triumph. It already had a long copper knife in its hand.
It focused on Granny, who had landed on her back. She could smell the rankness of it as it raised the knife, and she sought desperately for a way into its head . . .
Something flashed past her vision.
A length of rope had caught the elfs neck, and went tight as something swished through the air. The creature stared in horror as a flatiron whirred a few feet away from its face and swung past its ear, winding around and around with increasing speed but a decreasing orbital radius until it connected heavily with the back of the elfs head, lifting it off its feet and dropping it heavily on the turf.
Nanny Ogg appeared in Grannys vision.
“Cor, it doesnt half whiff, dont it?” she said. “You can smell elves a mile off. ”
Granny scrambled upright.
There was nothing but grass inside the circle. No snow, no elves.
She turned to Diamanda. So did Nanny. The girl was lying unconscious.
“Elf-shot,” said Granny.
“Oh, bugger. ”
“The points still in there. ”
Nanny scratched her head.
“I could probably get the point out, no problem,” she said, “but I dont know about the poison . . . we could tie a tourniquet around the affected part. ”
“Hah! Her neckd be favourite, then. ”
Granny sat down with her chin on her knees. Her shoulders ached.
“Got to get me breath back,” she said.
Images swam in the forefront of her mind. Here it came again. She knew there were such things as alternative futures, after all, thats what the future meant. But shed never heard of alternative pasts. She could remember having just gone through the stones, if she concentrated. But she could remember other things. She could remember being in bed in her own house, but that was it, it was a house, not a cottage, but she was her, they were her own memories. . . she had a nagging feeling that she was asleep, right now . . .
Dully, she tried to focus on Nanny Ogg. There was something comfortingly solid about Gytha Ogg.
Nanny had produced a penknife.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Going to put it out of its misery, Esme. ”
“Doesnt look miserable to me. ”
Nanny Oggs eyes gleamed speculatively.
“Could soon arrange that, Esme. ”
“Dont go torturing it just because its lying down, Gytha. ”
“Damn well aint waiting for it to stand up again, Esme. ”
“Gytha. ”
“Well, they used to carry off babies. I aint having that again. The thought of someone carrying off our Pewsey-”
“Even elves aint that daft. Never seen such a sticky child in all my life. ”
Granny pulled gently at Diamandas eyelid.
“Out cold,” she said. “Off playing with the fairies. ”
She picked the girl up. “Come on. Ill carry her, you bring Mr. Tinkerbell. ”
“That was brave of you, carrying her over your shoulder,” said Nanny. “With them elves firing arrows, too. ”
“And it meant less chance of one hitting me, too,” said Granny.
Nanny Ogg was shocked.
“What? You never thought that, did you?”
“Well, shed been hit already. If Id been hit too, neither of usd get out,” said Granny, simply.
“But thats - thats a bit heartless, Esme. ”
“Heartless it may be, but headless it aint. Ive never claimed to be nice, just to be sensible. No need to look like that. Now, are you coming or are you going to stand there with your mouth open all day?”
Nanny closed her mouth, and then opened it again to say:
“Whatre you going to do?”
“Well, do you know how to cure her?”
“Me? No!”
“Right! Me neither. But I know someone who might know,” she said. “And we can shove him in the dungeons for now. Lots of iron bars down there. That should keep him quiet. ”
“Howd he get through?”
“He was holding on to me. I dont know how it works. Maybe the stone . . . force opens to let humans through, or something. Just so long as his friends stay inside, thats all Im bothered about. ”
Nanny heaved the unconscious elf on to her shoulders without much effort. [21]
“Smells worse than the bottom of a goats bed,” she said. “Its a bath for me when I get home. ”
“Oh, dear,” said Granny “It gets worse, dont it?”
* * *
What is magic?
Then there is the witches explanation, which comes in two forms, depending on the age of the witch. Older witches hardly put words to it at all, but may suspect in their hearts that the universe really doesnt know what the hell is going on an
d consists of a zillion trillion billion possibilities, and could become any one of them if a trained mind rigid with quantum certainty was inserted in the crack and twisted; that, if you really had to make someones hat explode, all you needed to do was twist into that universe where a large number of hat molecules all decide at the same time to bounce off in different directions.
Younger witches, on the other hand, talk about it all the time and believe it involves crystals, mystic forces, and dancing about without yer drawers on.
Everyone may be right, all at the same time. Thats the thing about quantum.
It was early morning. Shawn Ogg was on guard on the battlements of Lancre castle, all that stood between the inmates and any mighty barbarian hordes that might be in the area.
He enjoyed the military life. Sometimes he wished a small horde would attack, just sos he could Save the Day. He daydreamed of leading an army into battle, and wished the king would get one.
A brief scream indicated that Hodgesaargh was giving his charges their morning finger.
Shawn ignored the noise. It was part of the background hum of the castle. He was passing the time by seeing how long he could hold his breath.
He had any amount of ways of passing the time, since guard duty in Lancre involved such an awful lot of it. There was Getting The Nostrils Really Clean, that was a good one. Or Farting Tunes. Or Standing On One Leg. Holding His Breath and Counting was something he fell back on when he couldnt think of anything else and his meals hadnt been too rich in carbohydrates.
There were a couple of loud creaks from the door knocker, far below. There was so much rust on it now that the only way it could be coaxed into making any sound was to lift it up, which made it squeak, and then force it mightily downward, which caused another squeak and, if the visitor was lucky, a faint thud.
Shawn took a deep breath and leaned over the battlements.
“Halt! Who Goes There?” he said.
A ringing voice came up from below.
“Its me, Shawn. Your mum. ”
“Oh, hello. Mum. Hello, Mistress Weatherwax. ”
“Let us in, theres a good boy. ”
“Friend or Foe?”
“What?”
“Its what Ive got to say, Mum. Its official. And then youve got to say Friend. ”
“Im your mum. ”
“Youve got to do it properly, Mum,” said Shawn, in the wretched tones of one who knows hes going to lose no matter what happens next, “otherwise whats the point?”
“Its going to be Foe in a minute, my lad. ”
“Oooaaaww, Mum!”
“Oh, all right. Friend, then. ”
“Yes, but you could just be saying that-”
“Let us in right now, Shawn Ogg. ”
Shawn saluted, slightly stunning himself with the butt of his spear.
“Right you are. Mistress Weatherwax. ”
His round, honest face disappeared from view. After a minute or two they heard the creaking of the portcullis.
“How did you do that?” said Nanny Ogg. “Simple,” said Granny. “He knows you wouldnt make his daft head explode. ”
“Well, I know you wouldnt, too. ”
“No you dont. You just know I aint done it up to now. ”
Magrat had thought this sort of thing was just a joke, but it was true. The castles Great Hall had one long, one very long dining table, and she and Verence sat at either end of it.
It was all to do with etiquette.
The king had to sit at the head of the table. That was obvious. But if she sat on one side of him it made them both uneasy, because they had to keep turning to talk to each other. Opposite ends and shouting was the only way.