Maskerade

huge mountain might be scaled by strong men only after many centuries of failed attempts, but a few decades later grandmothers will be strolling up it for tea 'and then wandering back afterwards to see where they left their glasses.

In accordance with this law, Greebo's soul had noted that there was one extra option for use in a tight corner (in addition to the usual cat assortment of run, fight, crap or all three together) and that was: Become Human.

It tended to wear off after a short time, most of which he spent searching desperately for a pair of pants.

There were snores from under the bed. Gradually, to Nanny's relief, they turned into a purr.

Then she sat bolt upright. She was some way from the cowshed but…

“He's here,” she said.

Granny breathed out, slowly.

“Come and sit where I can see you. That's good manners. And let me tell you right now that I ain't at all afraid of you.”

The tall, black?robed figure walked across the floor and sat down on a handy barrel, leaning its scythe against the wall. Then it pushed back its hood. Granny folded her arms and stared calmly at the visitor, meeting his gaze eye?to?socket.

I AM IMPRESSED.

“I have faith.”

REALLY? IN WHAT PARTICULAR DEITY?

“Oh, none of them.”

THEN FAITH IN WHAT?

“Just faith, you know. In general.”

Death leaned forward. The candlelight raised new shadows on his skull.

COURAGE IS EASY BY CANDLELIGHT. YOUR FAITH, I SUSPECT, IS IN THE FLAME.

Death grinned.

Granny leaned forward, and blew out the candle. Then she folded her arms again and stared fiercely ahead of her.

After some length of time a voice said, ALL RIGHT, YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT.

Granny lit a match. Its flare illuminated the skull opposite, which hadn't moved.

“Fair enough,” she said, as she relit the candle. “We don't want to be sitting here all night, do we? How many have you come for?”

ONE.

“The cow?”

Death shook his head.

“It could be the cow.”

NO. THAT WOULD BE CHANGING HISTORY.

“History is about things changing.”

NO.

Granny sat back.

“Then I challenge you to a game. That's traditional. That's allowed.”

Death was silent for a moment.

THIS IS TRUE.

“Good.”

CHALLENGING ME BY MEANS OF A GAME IS ALLOWABLE.

“Yes.”

HOWEVER… YOU UNDERSTAND THAT TO WIN ALL YOU MUST GAMBLE ALL?

“Double or quits? Yes, I know.”

BUT NOT CHESS.

“Can't abide chess.”

OR CRIPPLE MR ONION. I'VE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THE RULES.

“Very well. How about one hand of poker? Five cards each, no draws? Sudden death, as they say.”

Death thought about this, too.

YOU KNOW THIS FAMILY?

No.

THEN WHY?

“Are we talking or are we playing?”

OH, VERY WELL.

Granny picked up the pack of cards and shuffled it, not looking at her hands, and smiling at Death all the time. She dealt five cards each, and reached down…

A bony hand grasped hers.

BUT FIRST, MISTRESS WEATHERWAX — WE WILL EXCHANGE CARDS.

He picked up the two piles and transposed them, and then nodded at Granny.

MADAM?

Granny looked at her cards, and threw them down.

FOUR QUEENS. HMM. THAT IS VERY HIGH.

Death looked down at his cards, and then up into Granny's steady, blue?eyed gaze.

Neither moved for some time.

Then Death laid the hand on the table.

I LOSE, he said. ALL I HAVE IS FOUR ONES.

He looked back into Granny's eyes for a moment. There was a blue glow in the depth of his eye sockets. Maybe, for the merest fraction of a second, barely noticeable even to the closest observation, one winked off.

Granny nodded, and extended a hand.

She prided herself on the ability to judge people by their gaze and their handshake, which in this case was a rather chilly one.

“Take the cow,” she said.

IT IS A VALUABLE CREATURE.

“Who knows what the child will become?”

Death stood up, and reached for his scythe.

He said, OW.

“Ah, yes. I couldn't help noticing,” said Granny Weatherwax, as the tension drained out of the atmosphere, “that you seem to be sparing that arm.”

OH, YOU KNOW HOW IT IS. REPETITIVE ACTIONS AND SO ON…

“It could get serious if you left it.”

HOW SERIOUS?

“Want me to have a look?”

WOULD YOU MIND? IT CERTAINLY ACHES ON COLD NIGHTS.

Granny stood up and reached out, but her hands went straight through.

“Look, you're going to have to make yourself a bit more solid if I'm to do anything—”

POSSIBLY A BOTTLE OF SUCKROSE AND AKWA?

“Sugar and water? I expect you know that's only for the hard of thinking. Come on, roll up that sleeve. Don't be a big baby. What's the worst I can do to you?

Granny's hands touched smooth bone. She'd felt worse. At least these had never had flesh on them.

She felt, thought, gripped, twisted…

There was a click.

OW.

“Now try it above the shoulder.”