Equal Rites

get in.”
    “Magic, I expect,” said Granny sourly. “That’s wizards for you. Anyone else would have bought a doorknocker.”
    She waved her broomstick in the direction of the tall doors.
    “You’ve got to say some hocuspocus word to get in, I shouldn’t wonder,” she added.
    They had been in Ankh-Morpork for three days and Granny was beginning to enjoy herself, much to her surprise. She had found them lodgings in The Shades, an ancient part of the city whose inhabitants were largely nocturnal and never inquired about one another’s business because curiosity not only killed the cat but threw it in the river with weights tied to its feet. The lodgings were on the top floor next to the well-guarded premises of a respectable dealer in stolen property because, as Granny had heard, good fences make good neighbors.
    The Shades, in brief, were an abode of discredited gods and unlicensed thieves, ladies of the night and peddlers in exotic goods, alchemists of the mind and strolling mummers; in short, all the grease on civilization’s axle.
    And yet, despite the fact that these people tend to appreciate the soft magics, there was a remarkable shortage of witches. Within hours the news of Granny’s arrival had seeped through the quarter and a stream of people crept, sidled or strutted toward her door, seeking potions and charms and news of the future and various personal and specialized services that witches traditionally provide for those whose lives are a little clouded or full of stormy weather.
    She was at first annoyed, and then embarrassed, and then flattered; her clients had money, which was useful, but they also paid in respect, and that was a rock-hard currency.
    In short, Granny was even wondering about the possibility of acquiring slightly larger premises with a bit of garden and sending for her goats. The smell might be a problem, but the goats would just have to put up with it.
    They had visited the sights of Ankh-Morpork, its crowded docks, its many bridges, its souks, its casbahs, its streets lined with nothing but temples. Granny had counted the temples with a thoughtful look in her eyes; gods were always demanding that their followers acted other than according to their true natures, and the human fallout this caused made plenty of work for witches.
    The terrors of civilization had so far failed to materialize, although a cutpurse had tried to make off with Granny’s handbag. To the amazement of passersby Granny called him back, and back he came, fighting his feet which had totally ceased to obey him. No one quite saw what happened to her eyes when she stared into his face or heard the words she whispered in his cowering ear, but he gave her back all her money plus quite a lot of money belonging to other people, and before she let him go had promised to have a shave, stand up straight, and be a better person for the rest of his life. By nightfall Granny’s description was circulated to all the chapter houses of the Guild of Thieves, Cutpurses, Housebreakers and Allied Trades * , with strict instructions to avoid her at all costs. Thieves, being largely creatures of the night themselves, know trouble when it stares them in the face.
    Granny had also written two more letters to the University. There had been no reply.
    “I liked the forest best,” said Esk.
    “I dunno,” said Granny. “This is a bit like the forest, really. Anyway, people certainly appreciate a witch here.”
    “They’re very friendly,” Esk conceded. “You know the house down the street, where that fat lady lives with all those young ladies you said were her relatives?”
    “Mrs. Palm,” said Granny cautiously. “Very respectable lady.”
    “People come to visit them all night long . I watched. I’m surprised they get any sleep.”
    “Um,” said Granny.
    “It must be a trial for the poor woman with all those daughters to feed, too. I think people could be more considerate.”
    “Well now,” said Granny, “I’m not sure that—”
    She was rescued by the arrival at the gates of the University of a large, brightly painted wagon. Its driver reined in the oxen a few feet from Granny and said: “Excuse me, my good woman, but would you be so kind as to move, please?”
    Granny stepped aside, affronted by this display of down-right politeness and particularly upset at being thought of as anyone’s good woman, and the driver saw Esk.
    It was Treatle. He grinned like a worried snake.
    “I say. It’s the young