Equal Rites

lady who thinks women should be wizards, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” said Esk, ignoring a sharp kick on the ankle from Granny.
    “What fun. Come to join us, have you?”
    “Yes,” said Esk, and then because something about Treatle’s manner seemed to demand it, she added, “sir. Only we can’t get in.”
    “We?” said Treatle, and then glanced at Granny, “Oh, yes, of course. This would be your aunt?”
    “My granny. Only not really my granny, just sort of everyone’s granny.”
    Granny gave a stiff nod.
    “Well, we cannot have this,” said Treatle, in a voice as hearty as a plum pudding. “My word, no. Our first lady wizard left on the doorstep? That would be a disgrace. May I accompany you?”
    Granny grasped Esk firmly by the shoulder.
    “If it’s all the same to you—” she began. But Esk twisted out of her grip and ran toward the cart.
    “You can really take me in?” she said, her eyes shining.
    “Of course. I am sure the heads of the Orders will be most gratified to meet you. Most astonished and astounded,” he said, and gave a little laugh.
    “Eskarina Smith—” said Granny, and then stopped. She looked at Treatle.
    “I don’t know what is in your mind, Mr. Wizard, but I don’t like it,” she said. “Esk, you know where we live. Be a fool if you must, but you might at least be your own fool.”
    She turned on her heel and strode off across the square.
    “What a remarkable woman,” said Treatle, vaguely. “I see you still have your broomstick. Capital.”
    He let go of the reins for a moment and made a complicated sign in the air with both hands.
    The big doors swung back, revealing a wide courtyard surrounded by lawns. Behind them was a great rambling building, or buildings: it was hard to tell, because it didn’t look so much as if it had been designed as that a lot of buttresses, arches, towers, bridges, domes, cupolas and so forth had huddled together for warmth.
    “Is that it?” said Esk. “It looks sort of—melted.”
    “Yes, that’s it,” said Treatle. “Alma mater, gaudy armors eagle tour and so on. Of course, it’s a lot bigger inside than out, like an iceberg or so I’m given to understand, I’ve never seen the things. Unseen University, only of course a lot of it is unseen. Just go in the back and fetch Simon, will you?”
    Esk pushed aside the heavy curtains and peered into the back of the wagon. Simon was lying on a pile of rugs, reading a very large book and making notes on scraps of paper.
    He looked up, and gave her a worried smile.
    “Is that you?” he said.
    “Yes,” said Esk, with conviction.
    “We thought you’d left us. Everyone thought you were riding with everyone else and then wwwwhen we stopped—”
    “I sort of caught up. I think Mr. Treatle wants you to come and look at the University.”
    “We’re here?” he said, and gave her an odd look: “ You’re here?”
    “Yes.”
    “How?”
    “Mr. Treatle invited me in, he said everyone would be astounded to meet me.” Uncertainty flashed a fin in the depths of her eyes. “Was he right?”
    Simon looked down at his book, and dabbed at his running eyes with a red handkerchief.

“He has t-these little f-fancies,” he muttered, “bbbut he’s not a bad person.”
    Bewildered, Esk looked down at the yellowed pages open in front of the boy. They were full of complicated red and black symbols which in some inexplicable way were as potent and unpleasant as a ticking parcel, but which nevertheless drew the eye in the same way that a really bad accident does. One felt that one would like to know their purpose, while at the same time suspecting that if you found out you would really prefer not to have done.
    Simon saw her expression and hastily shut the book.
    “Just some magic,” he mumbled. “Something I’m wwwww—”
    “—working—” said Esk, automatically.
    “Thank you. On.”
    “It must be quite interesting, reading books,” said Esk.
    “Sort of. Can’t you read, Esk?”
    The astonishment in his voice stung her.
    “I expect so,” she said defiantly. “I’ve never tried.”

    Esk wouldn’t have known what a collective noun was if it had spat in her eye, but she knew there was a herd of goats and a coven of witches. She didn’t know what you called a lot of wizards. An order of wizards? A conspiracy? A circle?
    Whatever it was, it filled the University. Wizards strolled among the cloisters and sat on benches under the trees. Young wizards scuttled along pathways as