Witches Abroad

lost.
    “What’s she talking about, Esme?” she said.
    Granny muttered something.
    “What? Didn’t hear you,” Nanny said.
    Granny Weatherwax looked up, her face red with anger.
    “She means my sister , Gytha! Right? Got that? Do you understand? Did you hear? My sister! Want me to repeat it again? Want to know who she’s talking about? You want me to write it down? My sister! That’s who! My sister !”

    “They’re sisters?” said Magrat.
    Her tea had gone cold.
    “I don’t know,” said Ella. “They look…alike. They keep themselves to themselves most of the time. But I can feel them watching. They’re very good at watching.”
    “And they make you do all the work?” she said.
    “Well, I only have to cook for myself and the outside staff,” said Ella. “And I don’t mind the cleaning and the laundry all that much.”
    “Do they do their own cooking, then?”
    “I don’t think so. They walk around the house at night, after I’ve gone to bed. Godmother Lilith says I must be kind to them and pity them because they can’t talk, and always see that we’ve got plenty of cheese in the larder.”
    “They eat nothing but cheese?” said Magrat.
    “I don’t think so,” said Ella.
    “I should think the rats and mice get it, then, in an old place like this.”
    “You know, it’s a funny thing,” said Ella, “but I’ve never seen a mouse anywhere in this house.”
    Magrat shivered. She felt watched .
    “Why don’t you just walk away? I would.”
    “Where to? Anyway, they always find me. Or they send the coachmen and grooms after me.”
    “That’s horrible!”
    “I’m sure they think that sooner or later I’ll marry anyone to get away from laundry,” said Ella. “Not that the Prince’s clothes get washed, I expect,” she added bitterly. “I expect they get burned after he’s worn them.”
    “What you want to do is make a career of your own,” said Magrat encouragingly, to keep her spirits up. “You want to be your own woman. You want to emancipate yourself.”
    “I don’t think I want to do that,” said Ella, speaking with caution in case it was a sin to offend a fairy godmother.
    “You do really,” said Magrat.
    “Do I?”
    “Yes.”
    “Oh.”
    “You don’t have to marry anyone you don’t want to.”
    Ella sat back.
    “How good are you?” she said.
    “Er…well…I suppose I—”
    “The dress arrived yesterday,” said Ella. “It’s up in the big front room, on a stand so it doesn’t get creased. So that it stays perfect . And they’ve polished up the coach specially. They’ve hired extra footmen, too.”
    “Yes, but perhaps—”
    “I think I’m going to have to marry someone I don’t want to,” said Ella.

    Granny Weatherwax strode up and down the driftwood balcony. The whole shack trembled to her stamping. Ripples spread out as it bounced on the water.
    “Of course you don’t remember her!” she shouted. “Our mam kicked her out when she was thirteen! We was both tiny then! But I remember the rows! I used to hear them when I was in bed! She was wanton !”
    “You always used to say I was wanton, when we was younger,” said Nanny.
    Granny hesitated, caught momentarily off balance. Then she waved a hand irritably.
    “You was, of course,” she said dismissively. “But you never used magic for it, did you?”
    “Din’t have to,” said Nanny happily. “An off-the-shoulder dress did the trick most of the time.”
    “Right off the shoulder and onto the grass, as I recall,” said Granny. “No, she used magic. Not just ordinary magic, neither. Oh, she was willful !”
    Nanny Ogg was about to say: What? You mean not compliant and self-effacing like what you is, Esme? But she stopped herself. You didn’t juggle matches in a fireworks factory.
    “Young men’s fathers used to come around to complain,” said Granny darkly.
    “They never came around to complain about me ,” said Nanny happily.
    “And always looking at herself in mirrors,” said Granny. “Prideful as a cat, she was. Prefer to look in a mirror than out of a window, she would.”
    “What’s her name?”
    “Lily.”
    “That’s a nice name,” said Nanny.
    “It isn’t what she calls herself now,” said Mrs. Gogol.
    “I bet it isn’t!”
    “And she’s, like, in charge of the city?” said Nanny.
    “She was bossy , too!”
    “What’d she want to be in charge of a city for?” said Nanny.
    “She’s got plans,” said Mrs. Gogol.
    “And vain? Really vain !”