Wyrd Sisters tds-6

by Terry David John Pratchett

  'Perhaps we should have asked her to wait while we went and looked for one,' said Hwel sourly.

  They found the turning. It led into a forest criss-crossed with as many tracks as a marshalling yard, the sort of forest where the back of your head tells you the trees are turning around to watch you as you go past and the sky seems to be very high up and a long way off. Despite the heat of the day a dank, impenetrable gloom hovered among the tree trunks, which crowded up to the track as if intending to obliterate it completely.

  They were soon lost again, and decided that being lost somewhere where you didn't know where you were was even worse than being lost in the open.

  'She could have given more explicit instructions,' said Hwel.

  'Like ask at the next crone,' said Tomjon. 'Look over there.'

  He stood up in the seat.

  'Ho there, old . . . good . . .' he hazarded.

  Magrat pushed back her shawl.

  'Just a humble wood gatherer,' she snapped. She held up a twig for proof. Several hours waiting with nothing but trees to talk to hadn't improved her temper.

  Wimsloe nudged Tomjon, who nodded and fixed his face in an ingratiating smile.

  'Would you care to share our lunch, old . . . good wo . . . miss?' he said. 'It's only salt pork, I'm afraid.'

  'Meat is extremely bad for the digestive system,' said Magrat. 'If you could see inside your colon you'd be horrified.'

  'I think I would,' muttered Hwel.

  'Did you know that an adult male carries up to five pounds of undigested red meat in his intestines at all times?' said Magrat, whose informative lectures on nutrition had been known to cause whole families to hide in the cellar until she went away. 'Whereas pine kernels and sunflower seeds—'

  'There aren't any rivers around that you need helping over, are there?' said Tomjon desperately.

  'Don't be silly,' said Magrat. 'I'm just a humble wood gatherer, lawks, collecting a few sticks and mayhap directing lost travellers on the road to Lancre.'

  'Ah,' said Hwel, 'I thought we'd get to that.'

  'You fork left up ahead and turn right at the big stone with the crack in it, you can't miss it,' said Magrat.

  'Fine,' growled Hwel. 'Well, we won't keep you. I'm sure you've got a lot of wood to collect and so forth.'

  He whistled the mules into a plod again, grumbling to himself.

  When, an hour later, the track ran out among a landscape of house-sized boulders, Hwel laid down the reins carefully and folded his arms. Tomjon stared at him.

  'What do you think you're doing?' he said.

  'Waiting,' said the dwarf grimly.

  'It'll be getting dark soon.'

  'We won't be here long,' said Hwel.

  Eventually Nanny Ogg gave up and came out from behind her rock.

  'It's salt pork, understand?' said Hwel sharply. 'Take it or leave it, okay? Now – which way's Lancre?'

  'Keep on, left at the ravine, then you pick up the track that leads to a bridge, you can't miss it,' said Nanny promptly.

  Hwel grabbed the reins. 'You forgot about the lawks.'

  'Bugger. Sorry. Lawks.'

  'And you're a humble old wood gatherer, I expect,' Hwel went on.

  'Spot on, lad,' said Nanny cheerfully. 'Just about to make a start, as a matter of fact.'

  Tomjon nudged the dwarf.

  'You forgot about the river,' he said. Hwel glared at him.

  'Oh yes,' he muttered, 'and can you wait here while we go and find a river.'

  'To help you across,' said Tomjon carefully.

  Nanny Ogg gave him a bright smile. 'There's a perfectly good bridge,' she said. 'But I wouldn't say no to a lift. Move over.'

  To Hwel's irritation Nanny Ogg hitched up her skirts and scrambled on to the board, inserting herself between Tomjon and the dwarf and then twisting like an oyster knife until she occupied half the seat.

  'You mentioned salt pork,' she said. 'There wouldn't be any mustard, would there?'

  'No,' said Hwel sullenly.

  'Can't abide salt pork without condiments,' said Nanny conversationally. 'But pass it over, anyway.' Wimsloe wordlessly handed over the basket holding the troupe's supper. Nanny lifted the lid and gave it a critical assessment.

  'That cheese in there is a bit off,' she said. 'It needs eating up quick. What's in the leather bottle?'

  'Beer,' said Tomjon, a fraction of a second before Hwel had the presence of mind to say, 'Water.'

  'Pretty weak stuff,' said Nanny, eventually. She fumbled in her apron pocket for her tobacco pouch.

  'Has anyone got a light?' she inquired.

  A couple of actors produced bundles of matches. Nanny nodded, and put the pouch away.

  'Good,' she said. 'Now, has anyone got any tobacco?'

  Half an hour later the lattys rattled over the Lancre Bridge, across some of the outlying farmlands, and through the forests that made up most of the kingdom.

  'This is it?' said Tomjon.

  'Well, not all of it,' said Nanny, who had been expecting rather more enthusiasm. 'There's lots more of it behind the mountains over there. But this is the flat bit.'

  'You call this flat?'

  'Flattish,' Nanny conceded. 'But the air's good. That's the palace up there, offering outstanding views of the surrounding countryside.'

  'You mean forests.'

  'You'll like it here,' said Nanny encouragingly.

  'It's a bit small.'

  Nanny thought about this. She'd spent nearly all her life inside the boundaries of Lancre. It had always seemed about the right size to her.

  'Bijou,' she said. 'Handy for everywhere.'

  'Everywhere where?'

  Nanny gave up. 'Everywhere close,' she said.

  Hwel said nothing. The air was good, rolling down the unclimbable slopes of the Ramtops like a sinus wash, tinted with turpentine from the high forests. They passed through a gateway into what was, up here, probably called a town; the cosmopolitan he had become decided that, down on the plains, it would just about have qualified, as an open space.

  'There's an inn,' said Tomjon doubtfully.

  Hwel followed his gaze. 'Yes,' he said, eventually. 'Yes, it probably is.'

  'When are we going to do the play?'

  'I don't know. I think we just send up to the castle and say we're here.' Hwel scratched his chin. 'Fool said the king or whoever would want to see the script.'

  Tomjon looked around Lancre town. It seemed peaceful enough. It didn't look like the kind of place likely to turn actors out at nightfall. It needed the population.

  'This is the capital city of the kingdom,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Well-designed streets, you'll notice.'

  'Streets?' said Tomjon.

  'Street,' corrected Granny. 'Also houses in quite good repair, stone's throw from river—'

  'Throw?'

  'Drop,' Nanny conceded. 'Neat middens, look, and extensive—'

  'Madam, we've come to entertain the town, not buy it,' said Hwel.

  Nanny Ogg looked sidelong at Tomjon.

  'Just wanted you to see how attractive it is,' she said.

  'Your civic pride does you credit,' said Hwel. 'And now, please, leave the cart. I'm sure you've got some wood to gather. Lawks.'

  'Much obliged for the snack,' said Nanny, climbing down.

  'Meals,' corrected Hwel.

  Tomjon nudged him. 'You ought to be more polite,' he said. 'You never know.' He turned to Nanny. 'Thank you, good – oh, she's gone.'

  'They've come to do a theatre,' said Nanny.

  Granny Weatherwax carried on shelling beans in the sun, much to Nanny's annoyance.

  'Well? Aren't you going to say something? I've been finding out things,' she said. 'Picking up information. Not sitting around making soup—'

  'Stew.'

  'I reckon it's very important,' sniffed Nanny.

  'What kind of a theatre?'

  'They didn't say. Something for the duke, I think.'

  'What's he want a theatre for?'


  'They didn't say that, either.'

  'It's probably all a trick to get in the castle,' Granny said knowingly. 'Very clever idea. Did you see anything in the carts?'

  'Boxes and bundles and such.'

  'They'll be full of armour and weapons, depend upon it.'

  Nanny Ogg looked doubtful.

  They didn't look very much like soldiers to me. They were awfully young and spotty.'

  'Clever. I expect in the middle of the play the king will manifest his destiny, right where everyone can see him. Good plan.'

  'That's another thing,' said Nanny, picking up a bean pod and chewing it. 'He doesn't seem to like the place much.'

  'Of course he does. It's in his blood.'

  'I brought him the pretty way. He didn't seem very impressed.'

  Granny hesitated.

  'He was probably suspicious of you,' she concluded. 'He was probably too overcome to speak, really.'

  She put down the bowl of beans and looked thoughtfully at the trees.

  'Have you got any family still working up at the castle?' she said.

  'Shirl and Daff help out in the kitchens since the cook went off his head.'

  'Good. I'll have a word with Magrat. I think we should see this theatre.'

  'Perfect,' said the duke.

  'Thank you,' said Hwel.

  'You've got it exactly spot on about that dreadful accident,' said the duke. 'You might almost have been there. Ha. Ha.'

  'You weren't, were you?' said Lady Felmet, leaning forward and glaring at the dwarf.

  'I just used my imagination,' said Hwel hurriedly. The duchess glared at him, suggesting that his imagination could consider itself lucky it wasn't being dragged off to the courtyard to explain itself to four angry wild horses and a length of chain.

  'Exactly right,' said the duke, leafing one-handedly through the pages. 'This is exactly, exactly, exactly how it was.'

  'Will have been,' snapped the duchess.

  The duke turned another page.

  'You're in this too,' he said. 'Amazing. It's a word for word how I'm going to remember it. I see you've got Death in it, too.'

  'Always popular,' said Hwel. 'People expect it.'

  'How soon can you act it?'

  'Stage it,' corrected Hwel, and added, 'We've tried it out. As soon as you like.' And then we can get away from here, he said to himself, away from your eyes like two raw eggs and this female mountain in the red dress and this castle which seems to act like a magnet for the wind. This is not going to go down as one of my best plays, I know that much.

  'How much did we say we were going to pay you?' said the duchess.

  'I think you mentioned another hundred silver pieces,' said Hwel.

  'Worth every penny,' said the duke.

  Hwel left hurriedly, before the duchess could start to bargain. But he felt he'd gladly pay something to be out of this place. Bijou, he thought. Gods, how could anyone like a kingdom like this?

  The Fool waited in the meadow with the lake. He stared wistfully at the sky and wondered where the hell Magrat was. This was, she said, their place; the fact that a few dozen cows also shared it at the moment didn't appear to make any difference.

  She turned up in a green dress and a filthy temper.

  'What's all this about a play?' she said.

  The Fool sagged on to a willow log.

  'Aren't you glad to see me?' he said.

  'Well, yes. Of course. Now, this play . . .'

  'My lord wants something to convince people that he is the rightful King of Lancre. Himself mostly, I think.'

  'Is that why you went to the city?'

  'Yes.'

  'It's disgusting!'

  The Fool sat calmly. 'You would prefer the duchess's approach?' he said. 'She just thinks they ought to kill everyone. She's good at that sort of thing. And then there'd be fighting, and everything. Lots of people would die anyway. This way might be easier.'

  'Oh, where's your spunk, man?'

  'Pardon?'

  'Don't you want to die nobly for a just cause?'

  'I'd much rather live quietly for one. It's all right for you witches, you can do what you like, but I'm circumscribed,' said the Fool.

  Magrat sat down beside him. Find out all about this play, Granny had ordered. Go and talk to that jingling friend of yours. She'd replied, He's very loyal. He might not tell me anything. And Granny had said, This is no time for half measures. If you have to, seduct him.

  'When's this play going to be, then?' she said, moving closer.

  'Marry, I'm sure I'm not allowed to tell you,' said the Fool. 'The duke said to me, he said, don't tell the witches that it's tomorrow night.'

  'I shouldn't, then,' agreed Magrat.

  'At eight o'clock.'

  'I see.'

  'But meet for sherry beforehand at seven-thirty, i'faith.'

  'I expect you shouldn't tell me who is invited, either,' said Magrat.

  'That's right. Most of the dignitaries of Lancre. You understand I'm not telling you this.'

  'That's right,' said Magrat.

  'But I think you have a right to know what it is you're not being told.'

  'Good point. Is there still that little gate around the back, that leads to the kitchens?'

  'The one that is often left unguarded?'

  'Yes.'

  'Oh, we hardly ever guard it these days.'

  'Do you think there might be someone guarding it at around eight o'clock tomorrow?'

  'Well, I might be there.'

  'Good.'

  The Fool pushed away the wet nose of an inquisitive cow.

  'The duke will be expecting you,' he added.

  'You said he said we weren't to know.'

  'He said I mustn't tell you. But he also said, "They'll come anyway, I hope they do." Strange, really. He seemed in a very good mood when he said it. Um. Can I see you after the show?'

  'Is that all he said?'

  'Oh, there was something about showing witches their future. I didn't understand it. I really would like to see you after the show, you know. I brought—'

  'I think I might be washing my hair,' said Magrat vaguely. 'Excuse me, I really ought to be going.'

  'Yes, but I brought you this pres—' said the Fool vaguely, watching her departing figure.

  He sagged as she disappeared between the trees, and looked down at the necklace wound tightly between his nervous fingers. It was, he had to admit, terribly tasteless, but it was the sort of thing she liked, all silver and skulls. It had cost him too much.

  A cow, misled by his horns, stuck its tongue in his ear.

  It was true, the Fool thought. Witches did do unpleasant things to people, sometimes.

  Tomorrow night came, and the witches went by a roundabout route to the castle, with considerable reluctance.

  'If he wants us to be here, I don't want to go,' said Granny. 'He's got some plan. He's using headology on us.'

  'There's something up,' said Magrat. 'He had his men set fire to three cottages in our village last night. He always does that when he's in a good mood. That new sergeant is a quick man with the matches, too.'

  'Our Daff said she saw them actors practisin' this morning,' said Nanny Ogg, who was carrying a bag'of walnuts and a leather bottle from which rose a rich, sharp smell. 'She said it was all shouting and stabbing and then wondering who done it and long bits with people muttering to themselves in loud voices.'

  'Actors,' said Granny, witheringly. 'As if the world weren't full of enough history without inventing more.'

  'They shout so loud, too,' said Nanny. 'You can hardly hear yourself talk.' She was also carrying, deep in her apron pocket, a lump of haunted castle rock. The king was getting in free.

  Granny nodded. But, she thought, it was going to be worth it. She hadn't got the faintest idea what Tomjon had in mind, but her inbuilt sense of drama assured her that the boy would be bound to do something important. She wondered if he would leap off the stage and stab the duke to death, and reali
sed that she was hoping like hell that he would.

  'All hail wossname,' she said under her breath, 'who shall be king here, after.'

  'Let's get a move on,' said Nanny. 'All the sherry'll be gone.'

  The Fool was waiting despondently inside the little wicket gate. His face brightened when he saw Magrat, and then froze in an expression of polite surprise when he saw the other two.

  'There's not going to be any trouble, is there?' he said. 'I don't want there to be any trouble. Please.'

  'I'm sure I don't know what you mean,' said Granny regally, sweeping past.

  'Wotcha, jinglebells,' said Nanny, elbowing the man in the ribs. 'I hope you haven't been keeping our girl here up late o'nights!'

  'Nanny!' said Magrat, shocked. The Fool gave the terrified, ingratiating rictus of young men everywhere when confronted by importunate elderly women commenting on their intimately personal lives.

  The older witches brushed past. The Fool grabbed Magrat's hand.

  'I know where we can get a good view,' he said.

  She hesitated.

  'It's all right,' said the Fool urgently. 'You'll be perfectly safe with me.'

  'Yes, I will, won't I,' said Magrat, trying to look around him to see where the others had gone.

  'They're staging the play outside, in the big courtyard. We'll get a lovely view from one of the gate towers, and no-one else will be there. I put some wine up there for us, and everything.'

  When she still looked half-reluctant he added, 'And there's a cistern of water and a fireplace that the guards use sometimes. In case you want to wash your hair.'

  The castle was full of people standing around in that polite, sheepish way affected by people who see each other all day and are now seeing each other again in unusual social circumstances, like an office party. The witches passed quite unremarked among them and found seats in the rows of benches in the main courtyard, set up before a hastily assembled stage.

  Nanny Ogg waved her bag of walnuts at Granny.

  'Want one?' she said.

  An alderman of Lancre shuffled past her and pointed politely to the seat on her left.

  'Is anyone sitting here?' he said.

  'Yes,' said Nanny.

  The alderman looked distractedly at the rest of the benches, which were filling up fast, and then down at the clearly empty space in front of him. He hitched up his robes with a determined expression.