Wintersmith

it all goes bad. And you wished for a cottage. And you’re going to mess it up.”
    “I just need another day or two to get the hang—”
    “Why? You’re a witch with a cottage. You’re supposed to be able to deal with it! Why take it on if you couldn’t do it?”
    You’re supposed to be able to deal with it, sheep girl! Why take it on if you couldn’t do it?
    “So you’re not going to help me?” Annagramma glared at Tiffany, and then her expression, most unusually, softened a bit and she said, “Are you all right?”
    Tiffany blinked. It’s horrible to have your own voice echo back at you from the other side of your mind.
    “Look, I haven’t got time,” she said weakly. “Maybe the others can…help out?”
    “I don’t want them to know!” Panic cut curves on Annagramma’s face.
    She can do magic, Tiffany thought. She’s just not good at witchcraft. She’ll make a mess of it. She’ll make a mess of people .
    She gave in. “All right, I can probably spare some time. There’s not many chores to do at Tir Nani Ogg. And I’ll explain things to the others. They’ll have to know. They’ll probably help. You learn fast—you could pick up the basic stuff in a week or so.”
    Tiffany watched Annagramma’s face. She was actually thinking about it! If she were drowning and you threw her a rope, she’d complain if it was the wrong color….
    “Well, if they are just helping me…” Annagramma said, brightening up.
    You could almost admire the girl for the way she could rearrange the real world in her head. Another story, thought Tiffany; it’s all about Annagramma.
    “Yes, we’ll be helping you.” She sighed.
    “Perhaps we could even tell people that you girls are coming to me to learn things?” said Annagramma hopefully.
    People said that you should always count up to ten before losing your temper. But if it was Annagramma you were dealing with, you had to know some bigger numbers, like perhaps a million.
    “No,” said Tiffany, “I don’t think we’ll do that. You are the one doing the learning.”
    Annagramma opened her mouth to argue, saw the look on Tiffany’s face, and decided not to.
    “Er, yes,” she said. “Of course. Er…thank you.”
    That was a surprise.
    “They probably will help,” said Tiffany. “It won’t look good if one of us fails.”
    To her amazement, the girl really was crying. “It’s just that I didn’t really think they were my friends….”

    “I don’t like her,” said Petulia, who was knee-deep in pigs. “She calls me the pig witch.”
    “Well, you are a pig witch,” said Tiffany, who was standing outside the pigpen. The big shed was full of pigs. The noise was nearly as bad as the smell. Fine snow, like dust, was falling outside.
    “Yes, but when she says it, there’s a good deal too much pig and not enough witch,” said Petulia. “Every time she opens her mouth, I think I’ve done something wrong.” She waved a hand in a pig’s face and muttered a few words. The animal’s eyes crossed and it opened its mouth. It got a large dose of green liquid from a bottle.
    “We can’t just leave her to struggle,” said Tiffany. “People might get hurt.”
    “Well, that wouldn’t be our fault, would it?” said Petulia, dosing another pig. She cupped her hands and shouted over the din to a man at the other end of the pens: “Fred, this lot’s done!” Then she climbed out of the pen, and Tiffany saw that she’d got her dress tucked up to her waist and was wearing a pair of heavy leather britches under it.
    “They’re making a real fuss this morning,” she said. “Sounds like they’re getting a bit frisky.”
    “Frisky?” said Tiffany. “Oh…yes.”
    “Listen, you can hear the boars yelling in their shed,” said Petulia. “They can smell the spring.”
    “But it’s not even Hogswatch yet!”
    “It’s the day after tomorrow. Anyway the springtime sleeps under the snow, my dad always says,” said Petulia, washing her hands in a bucket.
    No ums, said Tiffany’s Third Thoughts. When she’s working, Petulia never says “um.” She’s certain of things when she’s working. She stands up straight. She’s in charge.
    “Look, it will be our fault if we can see something wrong and don’t do anything about it,” said Tiffany.
    “Oh, Annagramma again,” said Petulia. She shrugged. “Look, I can go over there maybe once a week after Hogswatch and show her some of the basic stuff. Will that make you happy?”
    “I’m