Wintersmith

Summer Lady, too!”
    There was what sounded very much like the start of a laugh from Miss Tick before Granny Weatherwax glared at her.
    Tiffany sighed. It was all very well to talk about choices, but she had no choice here.
    “All right. What else can I expect apart from…well, the feet?”
    “I’m, er, checking,” said Miss Tick, still thumbing through the book. “Ah…it says here that she was, I mean is , fairer than all the stars in heaven….”
    They all looked at Tiffany.
    “You could try doing something with your hair,” said Nanny Ogg after a while.
    “Like what?” said Tiffany.
    “Like anything, really.”
    “Apart from the feet and doing something with my hair,” said Tiffany sharply, “is there anything else?”
    “Says here, quoting a very old manuscript: ‘She waketh the grasses in Aprill and filleth the beehives with honey swete,’” Miss Tick reported.
    “How do I do that?”
    “I don’t know, but I suspect that happens anyway,” said Miss Tick.
    “And the Summer Lady gets the credit?”
    “I think she just has to exist for it to happen, really,” said Miss Tick.
    “Anything else?”
    “Er, yes. You have to make sure the winter ends,” said Miss Tick. “And, of course, deal with the Wintersmith.”
    “And how do I do that ?”
    “We think that you just have to…be there,” said Granny Weatherwax. “Or perhaps you’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
    Meep.
    “Be where?” said Tiffany.
    “Everywhere. Anywhere.”
    “Granny, your hat squeaked,” said Tiffany. “It went meep !”
    “No it didn’t,” Granny said sharply.
    “It did, you know,” said Nanny Ogg. “I heard it too.”
    Granny Weatherwax grunted and pulled off her hat. The white kitten, curled around her tight bun of hair, blinked in the light.
    “I can’t help it,” Granny muttered. “If I leave the dratted thing alone, it goes under the dresser and cries and cries.” She looked around at the others as if daring them to say anything. “Anyway,” she added, “it keeps m’ head warm.”
    On his chair, the yellow slit of Greebo’s left eye opened lazily.
    “Get down, You,” said Granny, lifting the kitten off her head and putting it on the floor. “I daresay Mrs. Ogg has got some milk in the kitchen.”
    “Not much,” said Nanny. “I’ll swear something’s been drinking it!”
    Greebo’s eye opened all the way, and he began to growl softly.
    “You sure you know what you’re doing, Esme?” said Nanny Ogg, reaching for a cushion to throw. “He’s very protective of his territory.”
    You the kitten sat on the floor and washed her ears. Then, as Greebo got to his feet, she fixed him with an innocent little stare and took a flying leap onto his nose, landing on it with all her claws out.
    “So is she,” said Granny Weatherwax, as Greebo erupted from the chair and hurtled around the room before disappearing into the kitchen. There was a crash of saucepans followed by the groioioioing of a saucepan lid spinning into silence on the floor.
    The kitten padded back into the room, hopped into the empty chair, and curled up.
    “He brought in half a wolf last week,” said Nanny Ogg. “You haven’t been hexperimenting * on that poor kitten, have you?”
    “I wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” said Granny. “She just knows her own mind, that’s all.” She turned to Tiffany. “I don’t reckon the Wintersmith will be worrying about you too much for a while,” she said. “The big winter weather will be on us soon. That’ll keep him busy. In the meantime, Mrs. Ogg will teach you…things she knows.”
    And Tiffany thought: I wonder how embarrassing this is going to be.

    Deep in the snow, in the middle of a windswept moorland, a small band of traveling librarians sat around their cooling stove and wondered what to burn next.
    Tiffany had never been able to find out much about the librarians. They were a bit like the wandering priests and teachers who went even into the smallest, loneliest villages to deliver those things—prayers, medicine, facts—that people could do without for weeks at a time but sometimes needed a lot of all at once. The librarians would loan you a book for a penny, although they often would take food or good secondhand clothes. If you gave them a book, you got ten free loans.
    Sometimes you’d see two or three of their wagons parked in some clearing and could smell the glues they boiled up to repair the oldest books. Some of the books they loaned