Wintersmith

by Terry Pratchett

Page 27

 

  "Giant rocks cant stay up in the sky, miss!" said Shawn. "I expect thats why this one fell down, lad," said Nanny briskly. "If you want to do something useful, you can stand guard and make sure nobody comes near it. "

  "What shall I do if it explodes, Mum?"

  "Come and tell me, will you?" said Nanny. She hurried Tiffany into the cottage, shut the door behind them, and said: "Im a dreadful ol liar, Tiff, and it takes one to know one. Whats down there?"

  "Well, I dont think its going to explode," said Tiffany. "And if it did, I think the worse thatd happen is that wed be covered in coleslaw. I think its the Cornucopia. " There was the sound of voices outside and the door was flung open. "Blessings be upon this house," said Granny Weatherwax, stamping snow off her boots. "Your boy said I shouldnt come in, but I think he was wrong. I came as quick as I could. Whats happened?"

  "Weve got cornucopias," said Nanny Ogg, "whatever they are. " It was later that evening. Theyd waited until it was dark before pulling the Cornucopia out of the hole. It was a lot lighter than Tiffany had expected; in fact it had an air about it of something very, very heavy which, for reasons of its own, had become light just for a while. Now it was on the kitchen table, wiped clean of mud and cabbages. Tiffany thought it looked vaguely alive. It was warm to the touch and seemed to vibrate slightly under her fingers. "According to Chaffinch," she said, with the Mythology open on her lap, "the god Blind Io created the Cornucopia from a horn of the magical goat Almeg to feed his two children by the Goddess Bisonomy, who was later turned into a shower of oysters by Epidity, God of Things Shaped like Potatoes, after insulting Resonata, Goddess of Weasels, by throwing a mole at her shadow. It is now the badge of office of the summer goddess. "

  "I always said there used to be far too much of that sort of thing in the old days," said Granny Weatherwax. The witches stared at the thing. It did look a bit like a goat horn, but much larger. "How does it work?" said Nanny Ogg. She stuck her head inside it and shouted "Hello!" Helloes came back, echoing for a long time, as if they had gone much farther than you would expect them to. "Looks like a great big seashell to me," was the opinion of Granny Weatherwax. The kitten You padded around the giant thing, sniffing daintily at it. (Greebo was hiding behind the saucepans on the top shelf. Tiffany checked. ) "I dont think anyone knows," she said. "But the other name for it is The Horn of Plenty. "

  "A horn? Can you play a tune on it?" asked Nanny. "I dont think so," said Tiffany. "It contains…er…things. "

  "What sort of things?" said Granny Weatherwax. "Well, technically…everything," said Tiffany. "Everything that grows. " She showed them the picture in the book. All sorts of fruits, vegetables, and grain were spilling from the Cornucopias wide mouth. "Mostly fruit, though," said Nanny. "Not many carrots, but I suppose theyre up in the pointy end. Theyd fit better there. "

  "Typical artist," said Granny. "He just painted the showy stuff in the front. Too proud to paint an honest potato!" She poked at the page with an accusing finger. "And what about these cherubs? Were not going to get them too, are we? I dont like to see little babies flying through the air. "

  "They turn up a lot in old paintings," said Nanny Ogg. "They put them in to show its Art and not just naughty pictures of ladies with not many clothes on. "

  "Well, theyre not fooling me," said Granny Weatherwax. "Go on, Tiff, give it a go," said Nanny Ogg, walking around the table. "I dont know how!" said Tiffany. "There arent any instructions!" And then, too late, Granny shouted: "You! Come out of there!" But with a flick of her tail the white kitten trotted inside. They banged on the horn. They held it upside down and shook it. They tried shouting down it. They put a saucer of milk in front of it and waited. The kitten didnt return. Then Nanny Ogg prodded gently inside the Cornucopia with a mop, which to no ones great surprise went farther inside the Cornucopia than there was Cornucopia on the outside. "Shell come out when shes hungry," she said reassuringly. "Not if she finds something to eat in there," said Granny Weatherwax, peering into the dark. "I shouldnt think shell find cat food," said Tiffany, examining the picture closely. "There may be milk, though. "

  "You! Come out of there this minute!" Granny commanded in a voice fit to shake mountains. There was a distant meep. "Perhaps shes got stuck?" said Nanny. "I mean, its like a spiral, growing smaller at the end, right? Cats aint very big at goin backward. " Tiffany saw the look on Grannys face and sighed. "Feegles?" she said to the room in general. "I know there are some of you in this room. Come out, please!" Feegles appeared from behind every ornament. Tiffany tapped the Cornucopia. "Can you get a little kitten out of here?" she asked. "Just that? Aye, nae problemo," said Rob Anybody. "I wuz hopin it was gonna be something difficult!" The Nac Mac Feegles disappeared into the Horn at a trot. Their voices died away. The witches waited. They waited some more. And some more. "Feegles!" shouted Tiffany into the hole. She thought she heard a very distant, very faint "Crivens!"

  "If it can produce grain, they might have found beer in there," said Tiffany. "And that means theyll only run out when the beer runs out too!"

  "Cats cant feed on beer!" snapped Granny Weatherwax. "Well, Im fed up with waiting," said Nanny. "Look, theres a little hole in the pointy end, too. Im going to blow into it!" She tried to, at least. Her cheeks went big and red and her eyes bulged, and it was pretty clear that if the horn didnt blow, then she would—at which point, the horn gave up. There was a distant and unmistakably curly rumbling noise, which got louder and louder. "I cant see anything yet," said Granny, looking into the wide mouth of the horn. Tiffany pulled her away just as You galloped out of the Cornucopia with her tail straight out and her ears flattened. She skidded across the table, leaped onto Granny Weatherwaxs dress, scrambled onto her shoulder, and turned and spat defiance. With a cry of "Crivvvvvvvvens!" Feegles poured out of the horn. "Behind the sofa, everyone!" yelled Nanny. "Run!" Now the rumble was like thunder. It grew and grew and then— —stopped. In the silence, three pointy hats rose from behind the sofa. Small blue faces rose from behind everything. Then there was a noise very similar to pwat! and something small and wizened rolled out of the mouth of the Horn and dropped onto the floor. It was a very dried-up pineapple. Granny Weatherwax brushed some dust off her dress. "Youd better learn to use this," she said to Tiffany. "How?"

  "Dont you have any idea?"

  "No!"

  "Well, its turned up for you, madam, and its dangerous!" Tiffany gingerly picked up the Cornucopia, and again there was that definite feeling of some hugely heavy thing pretending, very successfully, to be light. "Maybe it needs some magic word," suggested Nanny Ogg. "Or theres somewhere special that you press…. " As Tiffany turned it in the light, something gleamed for a moment. "Hold on, these look like words," she said. She read: All that you desire, I give upon a name, murmured the memory of Dr. Bustle. The next line said: I grow, I shrink, Dr. Bustle translated. "I think I might have an idea," she said, and in memory of Miss Treason she declared: "Ham sandwich!" Nothing happened. Then Dr. Bustle lazily translated, and Tiffany said: With a fwlap a ham sandwich sailed out of the mouth of the Cornucopia and was expertly caught by Nanny, who bit into it. "Not bad at all!" she announced. "Try a few more. " said Tiffany, and there was the kind of sound you get when you disturb a cave full of bats. "Stop!" she yelled, but nothing stopped. Then Dr. Bustle whispered and she shouted: There were a…lot of sandwiches. The pile reached the ceiling, in fact. Only the tip of Nanny Oggs hat was visible, but there were some muffled noises farther down the heap. An arm thrust out, and Nanny Ogg forced her way through the wall of bread and sliced pig, chewing thoughtfully. "No mustard, I notice. Hmm. Well, we can see that everyone around here has a good supper tonight," she said. "And I can see Im going to have to make an awful lot of soup, too. Best not to try it again in here, though, all right?"

  "I dont like it at all," snapped Granny Weatherwax. "Where does all that stuff come from, eh? Magic food never fed anyone properly!"

  "Its not magic, its a god thing," said Nanny Og
g. "Like manners from heaven, that sort of stuff. I expect its made out of raw firmament. " In fact its merely a living metaphor for the boundless fecundity of the natural world, whispered Dr. Bustle in Tiffanys head. "You dont get manners from heaven," said Granny. "This was in foreign parts, a long time ago," said Nanny, turning to Tiffany. "If I was you, dear, Id take it out into the woods tomorrow and see what it can do. Although, if you dont mind, I could really do with some fresh grapes right now. "

  "Gytha Ogg, you cant use the Cornucopia of the Gods as a…a larder!" said Granny. "The feet business was bad enough!"

  "But it is one," said Nanny Ogg innocently. "Its the larder. Its, like, everything waiting to grow next spring. " Tiffany put it down very carefully. There was something…alive about the Cornucopia. She wasnt at all sure that it was just some magical tool. It seemed to be listening. As it touched the tabletop, it began to shrink until it was the size of a small vase. "Scuse me?" said Rob Anybody. "But does it do beer?"

  "Beer?" said Tiffany, without thinking. There was a trickling noise. All eyes turned to look at the vase. Brown liquid was foaming over the lip. Then all the eyes turned to Granny Weatherwax, who shrugged. "Dont look at me," she said sourly. "Youre going to drink it anyway!" It is alive, Tiffany thought, as Nanny Ogg hurried off to find some more mugs. It learns. Its learned my language…. Around midnight, Tiffany woke up because a white chicken was standing on her chest. She pushed it off and reached down for her slippers, and found only chickens. When she got the candle alight, she saw half a dozen chickens on the end of the bed. The floor was covered in chickens. So were the stairs. So was every room down below. In the kitchen, chickens had overflowed into the sink. They werent making much noise, just the occasional werk a chicken makes when its a bit uncertain about things, which is more or less all the time. The chickens were shuffling along patiently to make room. Werk. They were doing this because the Cornucopia, now grown just a bit bigger than a full-grown chicken, was gently firing out a chicken every eight seconds. Werk. As Tiffany watched, another one landed on the mountain of ham sandwiches. Werk. Marooned on top of the Cornucopia was You, looking very puzzled. Werk. And in the middle of the floor Granny Weatherwax snored gently in the big armchair, surrounded by fascinated hens. Werk. Apart from the snoring, the chorus of werks, and the rustle of shuffling chickens, it was all very peaceful in the candlelight. Werk. Tiffany glared at the kitten. She rubbed up against things when she wanted to be fed, didnt she? Werk. And made meep noises? Werk. And the Cornucopia could work out languages, couldnt it? Werk. Now she whispered: "No more chickens," and after a few seconds the flow of chickens ceased. Werk. But she couldnt really leave it like that. She shook Granny by the shoulder and, as the old woman awoke, she said: "The good news is a lot of the ham sandwiches have gone…er…. " Werk.