Wyrd Sisters

'Yes, if you'd let them work it out for themselves, instead of encouragin' them to throw themselves at men.'

'They're good-lookin'. You can't stand in the way of human nature. You'd know that if you'd ever—'

'If I'd ever what?' said Granny Weatherwax, quietly.

They stared at one another in shocked silence. They could both feel it, the tension creeping into their bodies from the ground itself, the hot, aching feeling that they'd started something they must finish, no matter what.

'I knew you when you were a gel,' said Nanny sullenly. 'Stuck-up, you were.'

'At least I spent most of the time upright,' said Granny. 'Disgustin', that was. Everyone thought so.'

'How would you know?' snapped Nanny.

'You were the talk of the whole village,' said Granny.

'And you were, too! They called you the Ice Maiden. Never knew that, did you?' sneered Nanny.

'I wouldn't sully my lips by sayin' what they called you,' shouted Granny.

'Oh yes?' shrieked Nanny. 'Well, let me tell you, my good woman—'

'Don't you dare talk to me in that tone of voice! I'm not anyone's good woman—'

'Right!'

There was another silence while they stared at one another, nose to nose, but this silence was a whole quantum level of animosity higher than the last one; you could have roasted a turkey in the heat of this silence. There was no more shouting. Things had got far too bad for shouting. Now the voices came in low and full of menace.

'I should have known better than to listen to Magrat,' growled Granny. 'This coven business is ridiculous. It attracts entirely the wrong sort of people.'

'I'm very glad we had this little talk,' hissed Nanny Ogg. 'Cleared the air.'

She looked down.

'And

you're in my territory, madam.'

'Madam!'

Thunder rolled in the distance. The permanent Lancre storm, after a trip through the foothills, had drifted back towards the mountains for a one-night stand. The last rays of sunset shone livid through the clouds, and fat drops of water began to thud on the witches' pointed hats.

'I really don't have time for all this,' snapped Granny, trembling. 'I have far more important things to do.'

'And me,' said Nanny.

'Good night to you.'

'And you.'

They turned their backs on one another and strode away into the downpour.

The midnight rain drummed on Magrat's curtained windows as she thumbed her way purposefully through Goodie Whemper's books of what, for want of any better word, could be called natural