Lords and Ladies

Granny, speaking to the world in general. “And she’ll never get it back, though she calls it for a thousand years.”
    “Shoeing the unicorn,” said Nanny, shaking her head. “Only you’d think of shoeing a unicorn, Esme.”
    “I’ve been doing it all my life,” said Granny.
    Now the unicorn was a speck on the moorland. As they watched, it disappeared into the evening gloom.
    Nanny Ogg sighed, and broke whatever spell there was.
    “So that’s it, then.”
    “Yes.”
    “Are you going to the dance up at the castle?”
    “Are you?”
    “Well…Mr. Casanunda did ask if I could show him the Long Man. You know. Properly. I suppose it’s him being a dwarf. They’re very interested in earthworks.”
    “Can’t get enough of them,” said Casanunda.
    Granny rolled her eyes.
    “Act your age, Gytha.”
    “Act? Don’t have to act, can do it automatic,” said Nanny. “Acting half my age…now that’s the difficult trick. Anyway, you didn’t answer me.”
    To the surprise of Nanny, and of Ridcully, and possibly even of Granny Weatherwax herself, she slipped her arm around Ridcully’s arm.
    “Mr. Ridcully and I are going to have a stroll down to the bridge.”
    “We are?” said Ridcully.
    “Oh, that’s nice .”
    “Gytha Ogg, if you keep on looking at me like that I shall give you a right ding around the ear.”
    “Sorry, Esme,” said Nanny.
    “Good.”
    “I expect you want to talk about old times,” Nanny volunteered.
    “Maybe old times. Maybe other times.”
    The unicorn reached the forest, and galloped onward.

    The waters of the Lancre gushed below. No one crossed the same water twice, even on a bridge.
    Ridcully dropped a pebble. It went plunk .
    “It all works out,” said Granny Weatherwax, “somewhere. Your young wizard knows that, he just puts daft words around it. He’d be quite bright, if only he’d look at what’s in front of him.”
    “He wants to stay here for a while,” said Ridcully gloomily. He flicked another pebble into the depths. “Seems fascinated by the stones. I can’t say no, can I? The king’s all for it. He says other kings have always had fools, so he’ll try having a wise man around, just in case that works better.”
    Granny laughed.
    “And there’s young Diamanda going to be up and about any day now,” she said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Oh, nothing. That’s the thing about the future. It could turn out to be anything . And everything.”
    She picked up a pebble. It hit the water at the same time as one of Ridcully’s own, making a double plunk .
    “Do you think,” said Ridcully, “that…somewhere…it all went right?”
    “Yes. Here!”
    Granny softened at the sight of his sagging shoulders.
    “But there, too,” she said.
    “What?”
    “I mean that somewhere Mustrum Ridcully married Esmerelda Weatherwax and they lived—” Granny gritted her teeth “—lived happily ever after. More or less. As much as anyone does.”
    “How d’you know?”
    “I’ve been picking up bits of her memories. She seemed happy enough. And I ain’t easily pleased.”
    “How can you do that?”
    “I try to be good at everything I do.”
    “Did she say anything about—”
    “She didn’t say nothing! She don’t know we exist! Don’t ask questions! It’s enough to know that everything happens somewhere, isn’t it?”
    Ridcully tried to grin.
    “Is that the best you can tell me?” he said.
    “It’s the best there is. Or the next best thing.”

    Where does it end? *
    On a summer night, with couples going their own ways, and silky purple twilight growing between the trees. From the castle, long after the celebrations had ended, faint laughter and the ringing of little silver bells. And from the empty hillside, only the silence of the elves.

Author’s Note
    B y and large, most Discworld books have stood by themselves, as complete books. It helps to have read them in some kind of order, but it’s not essential.
    This one is different. I can’t ignore the history of what has gone before. Granny Weatherwax first turned up in Equal Rites . In Wyrd Sisters she became the unofficial head of a tiny coven consisting of the easy-going, much-married Nanny Ogg and young Magrat, she of the red nose and unkempt hair and tendency to be soppy about raindrops and roses and whiskers on kittens.
    And what took place was a plot not unadjacent to that of a famous play about a Scottish king, which ended with Verence II becoming king of the little hilly,