Wintersmith

coach had made a quick stop for fresh horses after the long haul into the mountains, and another one, bound for down on the plains, was waiting for the passengers. The breath of horses filled the air with steam. Drivers stamped their feet. Sacks and packages were being loaded. Men bustled around with nosebags. Some bandy-legged men just hung around, smoking and gossiping. In fifteen minutes the inn’s yard would be empty again, but for now everyone was too busy to pay much attention to one more stranger.
    Afterward they all told different stories, contradicting one another at the tops of their voices. Probably the most accurate account came from Miss Dymphnia Stoot, the innkeeper’s daughter, who was helping her father serve breakfast:
    “Well, he, like, came in, and right there I could see he was odd. He walked funny, you know, lifting his legs like a trotting horse does. Also, he was kind of like shiny. But we get all sorts here, and it does not pay to make pers’nal remarks. We had a bunch of werewolves in here last week and they were just like you and me except we had to put their plates on the floor…. All right, yes, this man…well, he sat down at a table and said: ‘I am a human just like you!’ He came out with it, just like that!
    “Of course, no one else paid attention, but I told him I was glad to hear it and what did he want to eat, because the sausages was particular fine this morning, and he said he could only eat cold food, which was funny ’cuz everyone was grumbling about how cold it was in the room now, and it’s not like there wasn’t a big fire burning. Anyway…actually we did have some cold sausage left in the pantry and they were a bit on the turn, if you know what I mean, so I gave them to him, and he chewed one for a bit and then he says, with his mouth full if you please, ‘This is not what I expected. What do I do now?’ and I said you swallow and he said, ‘Swallow?’ and I said, yes, you swallow it down into your stomach, right, and he said, spraying bits of sausage all over the place, ‘Oh, a hollow bit!’ and sort of like wavers and then he says, ‘Ah, I am a human. I have successfully eaten human sausages!’ and I said there was no need to be like that, they were made of mostly pig, same as always.
    “Then he says what is he supposed to do with them now and I says it’s not my place to tell him and that will be two pennies please and he puts down a gold coin so I curtsy because, well, you never know. Then he says, ‘I am a human just like you. Where are the pointy humans who fly through the sky?’ which was a funny way of putting it to my mind, but I told him if it was witches he wanted, there was plenty of ’em over the Lancre Bridge, and he said, ‘Name of Treason?’ and I said I heard she was dead but with witches who can say. And off he went. All the time he had this, like, smile, all shiny and a bit worrying. Something wrong with his clothes, too, like they were stuck to him or something. But you can’t be too choosy in this business. We had some trolls in here yesterday. They can’t eat our food, you know, being kind of like walking rocks, but we gave them a slap-up meal of broken cups and grease. But he was a rum ’un. The place got a lot warmer after he left, too.”

    Expect no less of you…
    The words kept Tiffany warm as she flew over the trees. The fire in her head burned with pride but contained one or two big crackly logs of anger.
    Granny had known! Had she planned it? Because it looked good, didn’t it? All the witches would know. Mrs. Earwig’s pupil couldn’t cope, but Tiffany Aching organized all the other girls to help out and didn’t tell anyone. Of course, among witches, not telling anyone was a sure way of getting things found out. Witches were very good at listening to what you weren’t saying. So Annagramma held on to her cottage, and Mrs. Earwig was embarrassed and Granny would be smug. All that work and rushing around, to let Granny feel smug. Well, and for Mrs. Stumper’s pig and everyone else, of course. That made it complicated. If you could, you did what needed to be done. Poking your nose in was basic witchcraft. She knew it. Granny knew she knew it. So Tiffany had scurried around like a little clockwork mouse….
    There would be a reckoning!
    The clearing was full of snow in great icy drifts, but a path had been worn to the cottage, she was pleased to see.
    There was something new. There were people standing by Miss