Equal Rites

servant—you do hire the servants here, don’t you? Right—and this one is a young girl, very economical, very good worker, can turn her hand to anything.”
    “What about her, then?” said Mrs. Whitlow, already savoring Granny’s surprisingly graphic descriptions of her future and drunk with curiosity.
    “The spirits are a little unclear on this point,” said Granny, “But it is very important that you hire her.”
    “No problem there,” said Mrs. Whitlow, “can’t keep servants here, you know, not for long. It’s all the magic. It leaks down here, you know. Especially from the library, where they keep all them magical books. Two of the top floor maids walked out yesterday, actually, they said they were fed up going to bed not knowing what shape they would wake up in the morning. The senior wizards turn them back, you know. But it’s not the same.”
    “Yes, well, the spirits say this young lady won’t be any trouble as far as that is concerned,” said Granny grimly.
    “If she can sweep and scrub she’s welcome, Aye’m sure,” said Mrs. Whitlow, looking puzzled.
    “She even brings her own broom. According to the spirits, that is.”
    “How very helpful. When is this young lady going to arrive?”
    “Oh, soon, soon—that’s what the spirits say.”
    A faint suspicion clouded the housekeeper’s face. “This isn’t the sort of thing spirits normally say. Where do they say that, exactly?”
    “Here,” said Granny. “Look, the little cluster of tea-leaves between the sugar and this crack here. Am I right?”
    Their eyes met. Mrs. Whitlow might have had her weakness but she was quite tough enough to rule the below-stairs world of the University. However, Granny could outstare a snake; after a few seconds the housekeeper’s eyes began to water.
    “Yes, Aye expect you are,” she said meekly, and fished a handkerchief from the recesses of her bosom.
    “Well then,” said Granny, sitting back and replacing the teacup in its saucer.
    “There are plenty of opportunities here for a young woman willing to work hard,” said Mrs. Whitlow. “Aye myself started as a maid, you know.”
    “We all do,” said Granny vaguely. “And now I must be going.” She stood up and reached for her hat.
    “But—”
    “Must hurry. Urgent appointment,” said Granny over her shoulder as she hurried down the steps.
    “There’s a bundle of old clothes—”
    Granny paused, her instincts battling for mastery.
    “Any black velvet?”
    “Yes, and some silk.”
    Granny wasn’t sure she approved of silk, she’d heard it came out of a caterpillar’s bottom, but black velvet had a powerful attraction. Loyalty won.
    “Put it on one side, I may call again,” she shouted, and ran down the corridor.
    Cooks and scullery maids darted for cover as the old woman pounded along the slippery flagstones, leapt up the stairs to the courtyard and skidded out into the lane, her shawl flying out behind her and her boots striking sparks from the cobbles. Once out into the open she hitched up her skirts and broke into a full gallop, turning the corner into the main square in a screeching two-boot drift that left a long white scratch across the stones.
    She was just in time to see Esk come running through the gates, in tears.

    “The magic just wouldn’t work! I could feel it there but it just wouldn’t come out!”
    “Perhaps you were trying too hard,” said Granny. “Magic’s like fishing. Jumping around and splashing never caught any fish, you have to bide quiet and let it happen natural.”
    “And then everyone laughed at me! Someone even gave me a sweet!”
    “You got some profit out of the day, then,” said Granny.
    “Granny!” said Esk accusingly.
    “Well, what did you expect?” she asked. “At least they only laughed at you. Laughter don’t hurt. You walked up to chief wizard and showed off in front of everyone and only got laughed at? You’re doing well, you are. Have you eaten the sweet?”
    Esk scowled. “Yes.”
    “What kind was it?”
    “Toffee.”
    “Can’t abide toffee.”
    “Huh,” said Esk, “I suppose you want me to get peppermint next time?”
    “Don’t you sarky me, young-fellow-me-lass. Nothing wrong with peppermint. Pass me that bowl.”
    Another advantage of city life, Granny had discovered, was glassware. Some of her more complicated potions required apparatus which either had to be bought from the dwarves at extortionate rates or, if ordered from the nearest human