Wyrd Sisters

Granny sat down and started removing the pins that nailed her tall hat to her bun. Finally the sight of Magrat dawned on her.

'Magrat!'

The young witch jumped, and clamped her knuckly hands to the virtuous frontage of her gown.

'Yes?' she quavered.

'What have you got on your lap?'

'It's my familiar,' she said defensively.

'What happened to that toad you had?'

'It wandered off,' muttered Magrat. 'Anyway, it wasn't very good.'

Granny sighed. Magrat's desperate search for a reliable familiar had been going on for some time, and despite the love and attention she lavished on them they all seemed to have some terrible flaw, such as a tendency to bite, get trodden on or, in extreme cases, metamorphose.

'That makes fifteen this year,' said Granny. 'Not counting the horse. What's this one?'

'It's a rock,' chuckled Nanny Ogg.

'Well, at least it should last,' said Granny.

The rock extended a head and gave her a look of mild amusement.

'It's a tortoyse,' said Magrat. 'I bought it down in Sheep-ridge market. It's incredibly old and knows many secrets, the man said.'

'I know that man,' said Granny. 'He's the one who sells goldfish that tarnish after a day or two.'

'Anyway, I shall call him Lightfoot,' said Magrat, her voice warm with defiance. 'I can if I want.'

'Yes, yes, all right, I'm sure,' said Granny. 'Anyway, how goes it, sisters? It is two months since last we met.'

'It should be every new moon,' said Magrat sternly. 'Regular.'

'It was our Grame's youngest's wedding,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Couldn't miss it.'

'And I was up all night with a sick goat,' said Granny Weatherwax promptly.

'Yes, well,' said Magrat doubtfully. She rummaged in her bag. 'Anyway, if we're going to start, we'd better light the candles.'

The senior witches exchanged a resigned glance.

'But we got this lovely new lamp our Tracie sent me,' said Nanny Ogg innocently. 'And I was going to poke up the fire a bit.'

'I have excellent night vision, Magrat,' said Granny sternly. 'And you've been reading them funny books. Grimmers.'

'Grimoires—'

'You ain't going to draw on the floor again, neither,' warned Nanny Ogg. 'It took our Dreen days to clean up all those wossnames last time—'

'Runes,' said Magrat. There was a look of pleading in her eyes. 'Look, just one candle?'

'All right,' said Nanny Ogg, relenting a bit. 'If it makes you feel any better. Just the one, mind. And a decent white one. Nothing fancy.'