I Shall Wear Midnight

with King Verence of Lancre and Magrat, his queen. Tiffany had met them before. You couldn’t help meeting them in Lancre, which was a very small kingdom, and even smaller when you took into consideration that Granny Weatherwax lived there too.
    And Granny Weatherwax was here, right here and now , with You 29 lying across her shoulders like a scarf, behind the King and Queen and just in front of a huge jolly voice that shouted, ‘Watcha, Tiff! How’s your belly off for spots!’ which meant that a couple of feet below it, but hidden by reasons of size, was Nanny Ogg, rumoured by some to be cleverer than Granny Weatherwax, and clever enough at least not to let her find out.
    Tiffany bowed to them as was the custom. She thought, They gather, do they? She smiled at Granny Weatherwax and said, ‘Very pleased to see you here, Mistress Weatherwax, and a little surprised.’
    Granny stared at her but Nanny Ogg said, ‘It’s a long bumpy ride down from Lancre, and so the two of us thought we’d give Magrat and her king a nice ride down.’
    Possibly Tiffany was imagining it, but Nanny Ogg’s explanation sounded like something she had been working on for a little while. It felt as if she were reciting a script.
    But there was no more time to talk. The arrival of the king had triggered something in the air, and for the first time Tiffany saw Pastor Egg, in a black-and-white robe. She adjusted her pointy hat and walked over to him. He seemed quite glad of the company, which is to say that he gave her a grateful smile.
    ‘Hah, a witch, I see.’
    ‘Yes, the pointy hat is a bit of a giveaway, isn’t it?’ she said.
    ‘But not a black dress, I notice … ?’
    Tiffany heard the question mark as it went past. ‘When I am old, I shall wear midnight,’ she said.
    ‘Entirely appropriate,’ said the pastor, ‘but now you wear green, white and blue, the downland colours, I can’t help remarking!’
    Tiffany was impressed. ‘So, you’re not interested in witchfinding, then?’ She felt a bit silly for asking outright, but she was on edge.
    Pastor Egg shook his head. ‘I can assure you, madam, that the Church has not been seriously involved in that sort of thing for hundreds of years! Unfortunately some people have long memories. Indeed, it was only a matter of a few years ago that the famous Pastor Oats said in his renowned Testament from the Mountains that the women known as witches embody, in a caring and practical way, the very best ideals of Brutha the prophet. That’s good enough for me. I hope it is good enough for you?’
    Tiffany gave him her sweetest smile, which wasn’t all that sweet, however hard you tried; she’d never really got the hang of sweet.
    ‘It’s important to be clear about these things, don’t you think?’
    She sniffed, and noticed no odour other than a hint of shaving cream. Even so, she was going to have to be on her guard.
    It was a good funeral too; from Tiffany’s point of view, a good funeral was one where the main player was very old. She had been to some – too many – where they were small and wrapped in a shroud. Coffins were barely known on the Chalk, and indeed nearly anywhere else. Decent timber was too expensive to be left to rot underground. A practical white woollen shroud did for most people; it was easy to make, not too expensive, and good for the wool industry. The Baron, however, went to his eternal rest inside a tomb of white marble which, him being a practical man, he had designed, bought and paid for twenty years ago. There was a white shroud inside it, because marble can be a bit chilly to lie on.
    And that was the end of the old Baron, except that only Tiffany knew where he really was. He was walking with his father in the stubbles, where they burned the corn stalks and the weeds, a perfect late-summer’s day, one never-changing perfect moment held in time …
    She gasped. ‘The drawing!’ Even though she’d spoken under her breath, people around her turned to look. She thought, How selfish of me! And then thought, Surely it will still be there?
    As soon as the lid of the stone tomb had been slid into place with a sound that Tiffany would always remember, she went and found Brian, who was blowing his nose; when he looked up at her he was pink around the eyes.
    She took him gently by the arm, trying not to sound urgent. ‘The room that the Baron was living in, is it locked?’
    He looked shocked. ‘I should say so! And the money is in the big safe in