Lords And Ladies

Jason hesitated. He seldom encountered wizards and wasn't at all sure how you were supposed to treat them.

He heard the wizard say: 'It sucks. But why does it suck?'

Jason kept quiet.

He heard Ponder say: 'Maybe there's iron and . . . and iron that loves iron? Or male iron and female iron? Or common iron and royal iron? Some iron contains something else? Some iron makes a weight in the world and other iron rolls down the rubber sheet?'

The Bursar and the Librarian joined him, and watched the swinging nail.

'Damn!' said Ponder, and let go of the nail. It hit the stone with a plink.

He turned to the others with the agonized expression of a man who has the whole great whirring machinery of the Universe to dismantle and only a bent paper clip to do it with.

'What ho, Mr. Sunshine!' said the Bursar, who was feeling almost cheerful with the fresh air and lack of shouting.

'Rocks! Why am I messing around with lumps of stone? When did they ever tell anyone anything?' said Ponder. 'You know, sir, sometimes I think there's a great ocean of truth out there and I'm just sitting on the beach playing with . . . with stones.'

He kicked the stone.

'But one day we'll find a way to sail that ocean,' he said. He sighed. 'Come on. I suppose we'd better get down to the castle.'

The Librarian watched them join the procession of tired men who were staggering down the valley.

Then he pulled at the nail a few times, and watched it fly back to the stone.

'Oook.'

He looked up into the eyes of Jason Ogg.

Much to Jason's surprise, the orang-utan winked.

Sometimes, if you pay real close attention to the pebbles you find out about the ocean.

The clock ticked.

In the chilly morning gloom of Granny Weatherwax's cottage. Nanny Ogg opened the box.

Everyone in Lancre knew about Esme Weatherwax's mysterious box. It was variously rumoured to contain books of spells, a small private universe, cures for all ills, the deeds of lost lands and several tons of gold, which was pretty good going for something less than a foot across. Even Nanny Ogg had never been told about the contents, apart from the will.

She was a bit disappointed but not at all surprised to find that it contained nothing more than a couple of large envelopes, a bundle of letters, and a miscellaneous assortment of common items in the bottom.

Nanny lifted out the paperwork. The first envelope was addressed to her, and bore the legend: To Gytha Ogge, Reade This NOWE.

The second envelope was a bit smaller and said: The Will of Esmerelda Weatherwax, Died Midsummer's Eve.

And then there was a bundle of letters with a bit of string round them. They were very old; bits of yellowing paper crackled off them as Magrat picked them up.

'They're all letters to her,' she said.

'Nothing odd about that,' said Nanny. 'Anyone can get letters.'

'And there's all this stuff at the bottom,' said Magrat. 'It looks like pebbles.'

She held one up.

'This one's got one of those curly fossil things in it,' she said. 'And this one . . . looks like that red rock the Dancers were made of. It's got a darning needle stuck to it. How strange.'

'She always paid attention to small details, did Esme. Always tried to see inside to the real thing.'

They were both silent for a moment, and the silence wound out around them and filled the kitchen, to be sliced into gentle pieces by the soft ticking of the clock.

'I never thought we'd be doing this,' said Magrat, after a while. 'I never thought we'd be reading her will. I thought she'd keep on going for ever.'

'Well, there it is,' said Nanny. 'Tempus fuggit.'

'Nanny?'

'Yes, love?'

'I don't understand. She was your friend but you don't seem . . . well. . . upset?'

'Well, I've buried a few husbands and one or two kiddies. You get the hang of it. Anyway, if she hasn't gone to a better place she'll damn well be setting out to improve it.'

'Nanny?'

'Yes, love?'

'Did you know anything about the letter?'

'What letter?'

'The letter to Verence.'

'Don't know anything about any letter to Verence.'

'He must have got it weeks before we got back. She must have sent it even before we got to Ankh- Morpork.'

Nanny Ogg looked, as far as Magrat could tell, genuinely blank.

'Oh, hell,' said Magrat. 'I mean this letter.'

She fished it out of the breastplate.

'See?'

Nanny Ogg read:

'Dear sire. This is to inform youe that Magrate Garlick will bee retouning to Lancre on or aboute Blind Pig Tuesday. Shee is a Wet Hen but shee is clean and has got Good Teeth. If you wishes to marrie her, then starte arranging matters without delae, because if you just proposes and similar she will lede you a Dance because there is noone like Magrat for getting in the way of her own life. She does not Knoe her own Mind. You aere Kinge and you can doe what you like. You muste present her with a Fate Accompli. PS. I hear there is talk aboute making witches pay tax, no kinges of Lancre has tried this for many a Year, you could profit from their example. Yrs. in good health, at the moment. A FRIEND (MSS).'

The ticking of the clock stitched the blanket of silence.

Nanny Ogg turned to look at it.

'She arranged it all!' said Magrat. 'You know what Verence is like. I mean, she hardly disguised who she was, did she? And I got back and it was all arranged-'

'What would you have done if nothing had been arranged?' said Nanny.

Magrat looked momentarily taken aback.

'Well, I would . . . I mean, if he had . . . I'd-'

'You'd be getting married today, would you?' said Nanny, but in a distant voice, as if she was thinking about something else.

'Well, that depends on-'

'You want to, don't you?'

'Well, yes, of course, but-'

'That's nice, then,' said Nanny, in what Magrat thought of as her nursery voice.

'Yes, but she pushed me on one side and shut me up in the castle and I got so wound up-'

'You were so angry that you actually stood Up to the Queen. You actually laid hands on her,' said Nanny. 'Well done. The old Magrat wouldn't have done that, would she? Esme could always see the real thing. Now nip out of the back door and look at the log pile, there's a love.'

'But I hated her and hated her and now she's dead!'

'Yes, dear. Now go and tell Nanny about the log pile.'

Magrat opened her mouth to frame the words 'I happen to be very nearly queen' but decided not to. Instead she graciously went outside and looked at the log pile.

'It's quite high,' she said, coming back and blowing her nose. 'Looks like it's just been stacked.'