Witches Abroad

the gloom.
    “This here’s Mrs. Gogol,” said Nanny. “She’s by way of bein’ a voodoo lady. That’s what witches are in these parts.”
    “They ain’t the only witches in these parts,” said Granny.
    “Mrs. Gogol was very impressed at you detecting me in here,” said Nanny.
    “It wasn’t hard,” said Granny. “Once I’d spotted that Greebo washing himself outside, the rest was all deduction.”

    In the gloom of the tent Nanny had formed a mental picture of Mrs. Gogol as being old. What she hadn’t expected, when the voodoo lady stepped out into the open air, was a handsome middle-aged woman taller than Granny. Mrs. Gogol wore heavy gold earrings, a white blouse and a full red skirt with flounces. Nanny could feel Granny Weatherwax’s disapproval. What they said about women with red skirts was even worse than whatever they said about women with red shoes, whatever that was.
    Mrs. Gogol stopped and raised an arm. There was a flurry of wings.
    Greebo, who had been rubbing obsequiously against Nanny’s leg, looked up and hissed. The largest and blackest cockerel Nanny had ever seen had settled on Mrs. Gogol’s shoulder. It turned on her the most intelligent stare she had ever seen on a bird.
    “My word,” she said, taken aback. “That’s the biggest cock I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a few in my time.”
    Mrs. Gogol raised one disapproving eyebrow.
    “She never had no proper upbringing,” said Granny.
    “What with living next to a chicken farm and all, is what I was going to say next ,” said Nanny.
    “This is Legba, a dark and dangerous spirit,” said Mrs. Gogol. She leaned closer and spoke out of the corner of her mouth. “Between you and me, he just a big black cockerel. But you know how it is.”
    “It pays to advertise,” Nanny agreed. “This is Greebo. Between you and me, he’s a fiend from hell.”
    “Well, he’s a cat,” said Mrs. Gogol, generously. “It’s only to be expected.”
Dear Jason and everyone ,
Isn’t it amazing the things what happen when you dont expect it, for example we met Mrs. Gogol who works as a coke by day but is a Voodoo witch, you mustnt beleive all the stuff about black magic, exetra, this is a Blind, shes just like us only different. Its true about the zombies though but its not what you think…
    Genua was a strange city, Nanny decided. You got off the main streets, walked along a side road, went through a little gate and suddenly there were trees everywhere, with moss and them llamas hanging from them, and the ground began to wobble underfoot and become swamp. On either side of the track there were dark pools in which, here and there, among the lilies, were the kind of logs the witches had never seen before.
    “Them’s bloody big newts,” she said.
    “They’re alligators.”
    “By gods. They must get good grub.”
    “Yeah!”
    Mrs. Gogol’s house itself looked a simple affair of driftwood from the river, roofed with moss and built out over the swamp itself on four stout poles. It was close enough to the center of the city that Nanny could hear street cries and the clip-clop of hooves, but the shack in its little swamp was wreathed in silence.
    “Don’t people bother you here?” said Nanny.
    “Not them as I don’t want to meet.” The lily pads moved. A v-shaped ripple drifted across the nearest pool.
    “Self-reliance,” said Granny approvingly. “That’s always very important.”
    Nanny regarded the reptiles with a calculating stare. They tried to match it, and gave up when their eyes started watering.
    “I reckon I could just do with a couple of them at home,” she said thoughtfully, as they slid away again. “Our Jason could dig another pond, no problem. What was it you said they et?”
    “Anything they want to.”
    “I knows a joke about alligators,” said Granny, in the tones of one announcing a great and solemn truth.
    “You never!” said Nanny Ogg. “I never heard you tell a joke in your whole life!”
    “Just because I don’t tell ’em don’t mean I don’t know ’em,” said Granny haughtily. “It’s about this man—”
    “What man?” said Nanny.
    “ This man went into an inn. Yes. It was an inn. And he saw a sign. The sign said ‘We serve every kind of sandwich.’ So he said ‘Get me an alligator sandwich—and make it quick!’”
    They looked at her.
    Nanny Ogg turned to Mrs. Gogol.
    “So…you live alone here, then?” she said brightly. “Not a living soul around?”
    “In a manner