Wintersmith by Terry Pratchett
Page 20
"Well, taking it off helps," said Nanny Ogg. "Mind you, so did a low-cut bodice, when I was a girl. Stopped em lookin at their stupid feet, I dont mind telling you!" Tiffany saw the dark eyes locked onto her. She burst out laughing. Mrs. Oggs face broke into a huge grin that should have been locked up for the sake of public decency, and for some reason Tiffany felt a lot better. Shed passed some kind of test. "Mind you, that probably wouldnt work with the Wintersmith, of course," said Nanny, and the gloom came down again. "I didnt mind the snowflakes," said Tiffany. "But the iceberg—I think that was a bit much. "
"Showing off in front of the girls," said Nanny, puffing at her hedgehog pipe. "Yes, they do that. "
"But he can kill people!"
"Hes Winter. Its what he does. But I reckon hes in a bit of a tizzy because hes never been in love with a human before. "
"In love?"
"Well, he probably thinks he is. " Once again the eyes watched her carefully. "Hes an elemental, and theyre simple, really," Nanny Ogg went on. "But hes trying to be human. And thats complicated. Were packed with stuff he doesnt understand—cant understand, really. Anger, for example. A blizzard is never angry. The storm dont hate the people who die in it. The wind is never cruel. But the more he thinks about you, the more hes having to deal with feelings like this, and theres none can teach him. Hes not very clever. Hes never had to be. And the interesting thing is that you are changin too—" There was a knocking at the door. Nanny Ogg got up and opened it. Granny Weatherwax was there, with Miss Tick peering over her shoulder. "Blessings be upon this house," said Granny, but in a voice that suggested that if blessings needed to be taken away, she could do that, too. "Quite probably," said Nanny Ogg. "Its Ped Fecundis, then?" Granny nodded at Tiffany. "Looks like a bad case. The floorboards started growing after she walked over them in bare feet. "
"Ha! Have you given her anything for it?" said Granny. "I prescribed a pair of slippers. "
"I really dont see how avatarization could be taking place, not when were talking about elementals, it makes no—" Miss Tick began. "Do stop wittering, Miss Tick," said Granny Weatherwax. "I notices you witter when things goes wrong, and it is not being a help. "
"I dont want to worry the child, thats all," said Miss Tick. She took Tiffanys hand, patted it, and said, "Dont you worry, Tiffany, well—"
"Shes a witch," said Granny sternly. "We just have to tell her the truth. "
"You think Im turning into a…a goddess?" said Tiffany. It was worth it to see their faces. The only mouth not in an O was the one belonging to Granny Weatherwax, which was smirking. She looked like someone whose dog has just done a rather good trick. "How did you work that out?" Granny asked. Dr. Bustle had a guess: Avatar, an incarnation of a god. But Im not going to tell you that, Tiffany thought. "Well, am I?" she said. "Yes," said Granny Weatherwax. "The Wintersmith thinks you are…oh, shes got a lot of names. The Lady of the Flowers is a nice one. Or the Summer Lady. She makes the summertime, just like he makes the winter. He thinks youre her. "
"All right," said Tiffany. "But we know hes wrong, dont we?"
"Er…not quite as wrong as wed like," said Miss Tick. Most of the Feegles had camped out in Nanny Oggs barn, where they were holding a council of war, except that it was about something that isnt quite the same thing. "What weve got here," Rob Anybody pronounced, "is a case o Romance. "
"Whats that, Rob?" asked a Feegle. "Aye, is it like how wee babbies are made?" asked Daft Wullie. "Ye told about that last year. It wuz verra interestin, although a bit far-fetched tae my mind. "
"No exactly," said Rob Anybody. "An its kinda hard tae describe. But I reckon yon Wintersmith wants to romance the big wee hag and she disna ken what tae do aboot it. "
"So it is like how babbies are made?" said Daft Wullie. "No, cuz even beasties know that but only people know aboot Romancin," said Rob. "When a bull coo meets a lady coo, he disna have tae say, My heart goes bang-bang-bang when I see your wee face, cuz its kinda built intae their heads. People have it more difficult. Romancin is verra important, ye ken. Basically its a way the boy can get close to the girl wioot her attackin him and scratchin his eyes oot. "
"I dinna see how we can teach her any o that stuff," said Slightly Mad Angus. "The big wee hag reads books," said Rob Anybody. "When she sees a book she just canna help herself. An I," he added proudly, "have a Plan. " The Feegles relaxed. They always felt happier when Rob had a Plan, especially since most plans of his boiled down to screaming and rushing at something. "Tell us aboot the Plan, Rob," said Big Yan. "Ahm glad ye asked me," said Rob. "The Plan is: Well find her a book aboot Romancin. "
"An how will we find this book, Rob?" asked Billy Bigchin uncertainly. He was a loyal gonnagle, but he was also bright enough to get nervous whenever Rob Anybody had a Plan. Rob Anybody airily waved a hand. "Ach," he said, "we ken this trick! A we need is a big hat an coat an a coat hanger an a broom handle!"
"Oh aye?" said Big Yan. "Well, Im not bein doon in the knee again!" With witches everything is a test. Thats why they tested Tiffanys feet. I bet that Im the only person in the world about to do this, she thought as she lowered both her feet into a tray of soil that Nanny had hastily shoveled up. Granny Weatherwax and Miss Tick were both sitting on bare wooden chairs, despite the fact that the gray cat Greebo was occupying the whole of one big saggy armchair. You didnt want to wake up Greebo when he wanted to sleep. "Can you feel anything?" asked Miss Tick. "Its a bit cold, thats all—oh…somethings happening…. " Green shoots appeared around her feet, and grew quickly. Then they went white at the base and gently pushed Tiffanys feet aside as they began to swell. "Onions?" said Granny Weatherwax scornfully. "Well, they were the only seeds I could find quickly," said Nanny Ogg, poking at the glistening white bulbs. "Good size. Well done, Tiff. " Granny looked shocked. "Youre not going to eat those, are you, Gytha?" she said accusingly. "You are, arent you? Youre going to eat them!" Nanny Ogg, standing up with a bunch of onions in each pudgy hand, looked guilty, but only for a moment. "Why not?" she said stoutly. "Fresh vegetables are not to be sneezed at in the winter. And anyway, her feet are nice and clean. "
"Its not seemly," said Miss Tick. "It didnt hurt," said Tiffany. "All I had to do was put my feet on the tray for a moment. "
"Yes, she says it didnt hurt," Nanny Ogg insisted. "Now, I think I might have some old carrot seeds in the kitchen drawer—" She saw the expressions on the faces of the others. "All right, all right, then. Theres no need to look like that," she said. "I was just tryin to point out the silver lining, thats all. "
"Someone please tell me what is happening to me?" Tiffany wailed. "Miss Tick is going to give you the answer in some long words," said Granny. "But they boils down to this: Its the Story happening. Its making you fit into itself. " Tiffany tried not to look like someone who didnt understand a word that she had just heard. "I could do with a little bit of the fine detail, I think," she said. "I think Ill get some tea brewed," said Nanny Ogg.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On with the Dance T he Wintersmith and the Summer Lady…danced. The dance never ended. Winter never dies. Not as people die. It hangs on in late frost and the smell of autumn in a summer evening, and in the heat it flees to the mountains. Summer never dies. It sinks into the ground; in the depths, winter buds form in sheltered places and white shoots creep under dead leaves. Some of it flees into the deepest, hottest deserts, where there is a summer that never ends. To animals they were just the weather, just part of everything. But humans arose and gave them names, just as people filled the starry sky with heroes and monsters, because this turned them into stories. And humans loved stories, because once youd turned things into stories, you could change the stories. And there was the problem, right there. Now the Lady and the Wintersmith danced around the year, changing places in the spring and autumn, and it had worked for thousands of years, right up until the time a girl couldnt control her feet and had arrived in the dance at exactly the wrong time. But the Story had life, too.
It was like a play now. It would roll on around the year, and if one of the players wasnt the real actress but just some girl whod wandered onto the stage, well, that was too bad. Shed have to wear the costume and speak the lines and hope that there was going to be a happy ending. Change the Story, even if you dont mean to, and the Story changes you. Miss Tick used a lot more words than this, like "anthropomorphic personification," but this was what ended up in Tiffanys head. "So…Im not a goddess?" she said. "Oh, I wish I had a blackboard. " Miss Tick sighed. "They really dont survive the water, though, and of course the chalks get so soggy—"
"What we think happened in the Dance," Granny Weatherwax began in a loud voice, "is that you and the Summer Lady got…mixed up. "
"Mixed up?"
"You may have some of her talents. The myth of the Summer Lady says that flowers grow wherever she walks," said Granny Weatherwax. "Where eer," said Miss Tick primly. "What?" snapped Granny, who was now pacing up and down in front of the fire. "Its where eer she walks, in fact," said Miss Tick. "Its more…poetical. "
"Hah," Granny said. "Poetry!" Am I going to get into trouble about this? Tiffany wondered. "And what about the real Summer Lady? Is she going to be angry?" she asked. Granny Weatherwax stopped pacing and looked at Miss Tick, who said: "Ah, yes…er…we are exploring every possibility—"
"That means we dont know," said Granny. "Thats the truth of it. This is about gods, see? But yes, since you ask, they can be a bit touchy. "
"I didnt see her in the dance," said Tiffany. "Did you see the Wintersmith?"
"Well…no," said Tiffany. How could she describe that wonderful, endless, golden, spinning moment? It went beyond bodies and thoughts. But it had sounded as though two people had said: "Who are you?" She pulled her boots back on. "Er…where is she now?" she asked as she tied the laces. Perhaps shed have to run. "Shes probably gone back underground for the winter. The Summer Lady doesnt walk above ground in winter. "
"Up until now," said Nanny Ogg cheerfully. She seemed to be enjoying this. "Aah, Mrs. Ogg has put her finger on the other problem," said Miss Tick. "The, er, Wintersmith and the Summer Lady are, uh, that is, theyve never—" She looked imploringly at Nanny Ogg. "Theyve never met except in the Dance," said Nanny. "But now here you are, and you feel like the Summer Lady to him, walking around as bold as brass in the wintertime, so you might be…how shall I put it…?"
"Well, taking it off helps," said Nanny Ogg. "Mind you, so did a low-cut bodice, when I was a girl. Stopped em lookin at their stupid feet, I dont mind telling you!" Tiffany saw the dark eyes locked onto her. She burst out laughing. Mrs. Oggs face broke into a huge grin that should have been locked up for the sake of public decency, and for some reason Tiffany felt a lot better. Shed passed some kind of test. "Mind you, that probably wouldnt work with the Wintersmith, of course," said Nanny, and the gloom came down again. "I didnt mind the snowflakes," said Tiffany. "But the iceberg—I think that was a bit much. "
"Showing off in front of the girls," said Nanny, puffing at her hedgehog pipe. "Yes, they do that. "
"But he can kill people!"
"Hes Winter. Its what he does. But I reckon hes in a bit of a tizzy because hes never been in love with a human before. "
"In love?"
"Well, he probably thinks he is. " Once again the eyes watched her carefully. "Hes an elemental, and theyre simple, really," Nanny Ogg went on. "But hes trying to be human. And thats complicated. Were packed with stuff he doesnt understand—cant understand, really. Anger, for example. A blizzard is never angry. The storm dont hate the people who die in it. The wind is never cruel. But the more he thinks about you, the more hes having to deal with feelings like this, and theres none can teach him. Hes not very clever. Hes never had to be. And the interesting thing is that you are changin too—" There was a knocking at the door. Nanny Ogg got up and opened it. Granny Weatherwax was there, with Miss Tick peering over her shoulder. "Blessings be upon this house," said Granny, but in a voice that suggested that if blessings needed to be taken away, she could do that, too. "Quite probably," said Nanny Ogg. "Its Ped Fecundis, then?" Granny nodded at Tiffany. "Looks like a bad case. The floorboards started growing after she walked over them in bare feet. "
"Ha! Have you given her anything for it?" said Granny. "I prescribed a pair of slippers. "
"I really dont see how avatarization could be taking place, not when were talking about elementals, it makes no—" Miss Tick began. "Do stop wittering, Miss Tick," said Granny Weatherwax. "I notices you witter when things goes wrong, and it is not being a help. "
"I dont want to worry the child, thats all," said Miss Tick. She took Tiffanys hand, patted it, and said, "Dont you worry, Tiffany, well—"
"Shes a witch," said Granny sternly. "We just have to tell her the truth. "
"You think Im turning into a…a goddess?" said Tiffany. It was worth it to see their faces. The only mouth not in an O was the one belonging to Granny Weatherwax, which was smirking. She looked like someone whose dog has just done a rather good trick. "How did you work that out?" Granny asked. Dr. Bustle had a guess: Avatar, an incarnation of a god. But Im not going to tell you that, Tiffany thought. "Well, am I?" she said. "Yes," said Granny Weatherwax. "The Wintersmith thinks you are…oh, shes got a lot of names. The Lady of the Flowers is a nice one. Or the Summer Lady. She makes the summertime, just like he makes the winter. He thinks youre her. "
"All right," said Tiffany. "But we know hes wrong, dont we?"
"Er…not quite as wrong as wed like," said Miss Tick. Most of the Feegles had camped out in Nanny Oggs barn, where they were holding a council of war, except that it was about something that isnt quite the same thing. "What weve got here," Rob Anybody pronounced, "is a case o Romance. "
"Whats that, Rob?" asked a Feegle. "Aye, is it like how wee babbies are made?" asked Daft Wullie. "Ye told about that last year. It wuz verra interestin, although a bit far-fetched tae my mind. "
"No exactly," said Rob Anybody. "An its kinda hard tae describe. But I reckon yon Wintersmith wants to romance the big wee hag and she disna ken what tae do aboot it. "
"So it is like how babbies are made?" said Daft Wullie. "No, cuz even beasties know that but only people know aboot Romancin," said Rob. "When a bull coo meets a lady coo, he disna have tae say, My heart goes bang-bang-bang when I see your wee face, cuz its kinda built intae their heads. People have it more difficult. Romancin is verra important, ye ken. Basically its a way the boy can get close to the girl wioot her attackin him and scratchin his eyes oot. "
"I dinna see how we can teach her any o that stuff," said Slightly Mad Angus. "The big wee hag reads books," said Rob Anybody. "When she sees a book she just canna help herself. An I," he added proudly, "have a Plan. " The Feegles relaxed. They always felt happier when Rob had a Plan, especially since most plans of his boiled down to screaming and rushing at something. "Tell us aboot the Plan, Rob," said Big Yan. "Ahm glad ye asked me," said Rob. "The Plan is: Well find her a book aboot Romancin. "
"An how will we find this book, Rob?" asked Billy Bigchin uncertainly. He was a loyal gonnagle, but he was also bright enough to get nervous whenever Rob Anybody had a Plan. Rob Anybody airily waved a hand. "Ach," he said, "we ken this trick! A we need is a big hat an coat an a coat hanger an a broom handle!"
"Oh aye?" said Big Yan. "Well, Im not bein doon in the knee again!" With witches everything is a test. Thats why they tested Tiffanys feet. I bet that Im the only person in the world about to do this, she thought as she lowered both her feet into a tray of soil that Nanny had hastily shoveled up. Granny Weatherwax and Miss Tick were both sitting on bare wooden chairs, despite the fact that the gray cat Greebo was occupying the whole of one big saggy armchair. You didnt want to wake up Greebo when he wanted to sleep. "Can you feel anything?" asked Miss Tick. "Its a bit cold, thats all—oh…somethings happening…. " Green shoots appeared around her feet, and grew quickly. Then they went white at the base and gently pushed Tiffanys feet aside as they began to swell. "Onions?" said Granny Weatherwax scornfully. "Well, they were the only seeds I could find quickly," said Nanny Ogg, poking at the glistening white bulbs. "Good size. Well done, Tiff. " Granny looked shocked. "Youre not going to eat those, are you, Gytha?" she said accusingly. "You are, arent you? Youre going to eat them!" Nanny Ogg, standing up with a bunch of onions in each pudgy hand, looked guilty, but only for a moment. "Why not?" she said stoutly. "Fresh vegetables are not to be sneezed at in the winter. And anyway, her feet are nice and clean. "
"Its not seemly," said Miss Tick. "It didnt hurt," said Tiffany. "All I had to do was put my feet on the tray for a moment. "
"Yes, she says it didnt hurt," Nanny Ogg insisted. "Now, I think I might have some old carrot seeds in the kitchen drawer—" She saw the expressions on the faces of the others. "All right, all right, then. Theres no need to look like that," she said. "I was just tryin to point out the silver lining, thats all. "
"Someone please tell me what is happening to me?" Tiffany wailed. "Miss Tick is going to give you the answer in some long words," said Granny. "But they boils down to this: Its the Story happening. Its making you fit into itself. " Tiffany tried not to look like someone who didnt understand a word that she had just heard. "I could do with a little bit of the fine detail, I think," she said. "I think Ill get some tea brewed," said Nanny Ogg.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On with the Dance T he Wintersmith and the Summer Lady…danced. The dance never ended. Winter never dies. Not as people die. It hangs on in late frost and the smell of autumn in a summer evening, and in the heat it flees to the mountains. Summer never dies. It sinks into the ground; in the depths, winter buds form in sheltered places and white shoots creep under dead leaves. Some of it flees into the deepest, hottest deserts, where there is a summer that never ends. To animals they were just the weather, just part of everything. But humans arose and gave them names, just as people filled the starry sky with heroes and monsters, because this turned them into stories. And humans loved stories, because once youd turned things into stories, you could change the stories. And there was the problem, right there. Now the Lady and the Wintersmith danced around the year, changing places in the spring and autumn, and it had worked for thousands of years, right up until the time a girl couldnt control her feet and had arrived in the dance at exactly the wrong time. But the Story had life, too.
"What we think happened in the Dance," Granny Weatherwax began in a loud voice, "is that you and the Summer Lady got…mixed up. "
"Mixed up?"
"You may have some of her talents. The myth of the Summer Lady says that flowers grow wherever she walks," said Granny Weatherwax. "Where eer," said Miss Tick primly. "What?" snapped Granny, who was now pacing up and down in front of the fire. "Its where eer she walks, in fact," said Miss Tick. "Its more…poetical. "
"Hah," Granny said. "Poetry!" Am I going to get into trouble about this? Tiffany wondered. "And what about the real Summer Lady? Is she going to be angry?" she asked. Granny Weatherwax stopped pacing and looked at Miss Tick, who said: "Ah, yes…er…we are exploring every possibility—"
"That means we dont know," said Granny. "Thats the truth of it. This is about gods, see? But yes, since you ask, they can be a bit touchy. "
"I didnt see her in the dance," said Tiffany. "Did you see the Wintersmith?"
"Well…no," said Tiffany. How could she describe that wonderful, endless, golden, spinning moment? It went beyond bodies and thoughts. But it had sounded as though two people had said: "Who are you?" She pulled her boots back on. "Er…where is she now?" she asked as she tied the laces. Perhaps shed have to run. "Shes probably gone back underground for the winter. The Summer Lady doesnt walk above ground in winter. "
"Up until now," said Nanny Ogg cheerfully. She seemed to be enjoying this. "Aah, Mrs. Ogg has put her finger on the other problem," said Miss Tick. "The, er, Wintersmith and the Summer Lady are, uh, that is, theyve never—" She looked imploringly at Nanny Ogg. "Theyve never met except in the Dance," said Nanny. "But now here you are, and you feel like the Summer Lady to him, walking around as bold as brass in the wintertime, so you might be…how shall I put it…?"