Wintersmith

who can’t be bothered to think for themselves, I don’t want to wear midnight and make people afraid of me. There is no name for what I want to be. But I was old enough to do all those things, and I was acceptable .
    But she said: “I don’t know what this is about!”
    At which point she felt someone looking at her, and she knew, if she turned around, that it would be Granny Weatherwax.
    Her Third Thoughts—the ones that paid attention out of the corner of her ear and the edge of her eye all the time—told her: Something is going on. All you can do about it is be yourself. Don’t look around.
    “You’re really not interested?” said Annagramma uncertainly.
    “I’ve come up here to learn witching,” said Tiffany stiffly. “And then I’m going to go home. But…are you sure you want the cottage?”
    “Well, of course! Every witch wants a cottage!”
    “But they’ve had years and years of Miss Treason,” Tiffany pointed out.
    “Then they’ll just have to get used to me,” said Annagramma. “I expect they’ll be pretty glad to see the back of skulls and cobwebs and being frightened! I know she’s got the local people really scared of her.”
    “Ah,” said Tiffany.
    “I’ll be a new broom,” said Annagramma. “Frankly, Tiffany, after that old woman, just about anyone would be popular.”
    “Er, yes…” said Tiffany. “Tell me, Annagramma, have you ever worked with any other witch?”
    “No, I’ve always been with Mrs. Earwig. I’m her first pupil, you know,” Annagramma added proudly. “She’s very exclusive.”
    “And she doesn’t go around the villages much, does she?” said Tiffany.
    “No. She concentrates on the Higher Magik.” Annagramma wasn’t particularly observant and was very vain, even by the standard of witches, but now she looked a little less confident. “Well, someone has to. We can’t all tramp around bandaging cut fingers, you know,” she added. “Is there a problem?”
    “Hmm? Oh, no. I’m sure you’ll get on well,” said Tiffany. “Er…I know my way around the place, so if you need any help, just ask.”
    “Oh, I’m sure I’ll get things sorted out to my liking,” said Annagramma, whose boundless self-confidence couldn’t stay squashed for long. “I’d better go. By the way, it looks as though the food is running low.”
    She swept away.
    The big vats on the trestle table just inside the door were indeed looking a bit empty. Tiffany saw one witch stuff four hard-boiled eggs into her pocket.
    “Good afternoon, Miss Tick,” she said loudly.
    “Ah, Tiffany,” said Miss Tick smoothly, turning around without the least sign of embarrassment. “Miss Treason has just been telling us how well you have been doing here.”
    “Thank you, Miss Tick.”
    “She says that you have a fine eye for hidden detail,” Miss Tick went on.
    Like the labels on skulls, Tiffany thought. “Miss Tick,” she said, “do you know anything about people wanting me to take over the cottage?”
    “Oh, that’s all been decided,” said Miss Tick. “There was some suggestion that it should be you, since you’re already here, but really, you are still young, and Annagramma has had much more experience. I’m sorry, but—”
    “That’s not fair, Miss Tick,” said Tiffany.
    “Now, now, Tiffany, that’s not the sort of thing a witch says—” Miss Tick began.
    “I don’t mean not fair to me, I mean unfair to Annagramma. She’s going to make a mess of it, isn’t she?”
    Just for the skin of a moment Miss Tick looked guilty. It really was a very short space of time indeed, but Tiffany spotted it.
    “Mrs. Earwig is certain that Annagramma will do a very good job,” said Miss Tick.
    “Are you?”
    “Remember whom you are talking to, please!”
    “I’m talking to you, Miss Tick! This is…wrong!” Tiffany’s eyes blazed.
    She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. An entire plate of sausages was moving across the white cloth at very high speed.
    “And that is stealing,” she growled, leaping after it.
    She chased after the dish as, skimming a few inches above the ground, it rounded the cottage and disappeared behind the goat shed. She plunged after it.
    There were several plates lying on the leaves behind the shed. There were potatoes, oozing butter, and a dozen ham rolls, and a pile of boiled eggs, and two cooked chickens. Everything except the sausages in the dish, which was now stationary, had a gnawed look.
    There was absolutely no sign of