Lords and Ladies

and closed her eyes and pinched her nose.
    Not knowing the future was bad enough, but at least she understood why. Now she was getting flashes of déjà vu . It had been going on all week. But they weren’t her déjà vus . She was getting them for the first time, as it were—flashes of memory that couldn’t have existed. Couldn’t have existed. She was Esme Weatherwax, sane as a brick, always had been, she’d never been—
    There was a knock at the door.
    She blinked, glad to be free of those thoughts. It took her a second or two to focus on the present. Then she folded up the paper, slipped it into its envelope, pushed the envelope back into its bundle, put the bundle into the box, locked the box with a small key which she hung over the fireplace, and walked to the door. She did a last-minute check to make sure she hadn’t absentmindedly taken all her clothes off, or something, and opened it.
    “Evenin’,” said Nanny Ogg, holding out a bowl with a cloth over it, “I’ve brung you some—”
    Granny Weatherwax was looking past her.
    “Who’re these people?” she said.
    The three girls looked embarrassed.
    “See, they came round my house and said—” Nanny Ogg began.
    “Don’t tell me. Let me guess,” said Granny. She strode out, and inspected the trio.
    “Well, well, well,” she said. “My word. My word. Three girls who want to be witches, am I right?” Her voice went falsetto. “‘Oh, please, Mrs. Ogg, we has seen the error of our ways, we want to learn proper witchcraft.’ Yes?”
    “Yes. Something like that,” said Nanny. “But—”
    “This is witchcraft,” said Granny Weatherwax. “It’s not…it’s not a game of conkers . Oh, deary, deary me.”
    She walked along the very short row of trembling girls.
    “What’s your name, girl?”
    “Magenta Frottidge, ma’am.”
    “I bet that’s not what your mum calls you?”
    Magenta looked at her feet.
    “She calls me Violet, ma’am.”
    “Well, it’s a better color than magenta,” said Granny. “Want to be a bit mysterious, eh? Want to make folks feel you got a grip on the occult? Can you do magic? Your friend taught you anything, did she? Knock my hat off.”
    “What, ma’am?”
    Granny Weatherwax stood back, and turned around.
    “Knock it off. I ain’t trying to stop you. Go on.”
    Magenta-shading-to-Violet shaded to pink.
    “Er…In ever got the hang of the psycho-thingy…”
    “Oh, dear. Well, just let’s see what the rest can do…Who’re you, girl?”
    “Amanita, ma’am.”
    “Such a pretty name. Let’s see what you can do.”
    Amanita looked around nervously.
    “I, er, don’t think I can while you’re watching me—” she began.
    “That’s a shame. What about you, on the end?”
    “Agnes Nitt,” said Agnes, who was much faster on the uptake than the other two and saw that there was no point in pushing Perdita.
    “Go on, then. Try.”
    Agnes concentrated.
    “Oh, deary, deary me,” said Granny. “And my hat’s still on. Show them, Gytha.”
    Nanny Ogg sighed, picked up a piece of fallen branch, and hurled it at Granny’s hat. Granny caught the stick in mid-air.
    “But, but—you said we had to use magic—” Amanita began.
    “No, I didn’t,” said Granny.
    “But anyone could have done that ,” said Magenta.
    “Yes, but that’s not the point,” said Granny. “The point is that you didn’t.” She smiled, which was unusual for her. “Look, I don’t want to be nasty to you. You’re young. The world’s full of things you could be doing. You don’t want to be witches. Not if you knew what it means. Now just go away. Go home. Don’t try the paranormal until you know what’s normal. Go on. Run along.”
    “But that’s just trickery! That’s what Diamanda said! You just use words and trickery—” Magenta protested.
    Granny raised a hand.
    In the trees, the birds stopped singing.
    “Gytha?”
    Nanny Ogg gripped her own hat brim defensively.
    “Esme, listen, this hat cost me two whole dollars—”
    The boom echoed through the woods.
    Bits of hat lining zigzagged gently out of the sky.
    Granny pointed her finger at the girls, who tried to lean out of the way.
    “Now,” she said, “why don’t you go and see to your friend? She was beat. She probably ain’t very happy. That’s no time to go leaving people.”
    They still stared at her. Her finger seemed to fascinate them.
    “I just asked you to go home. Perfectly reasonable voice. Do you want me to shout ?”
    They