Witches Abroad

a pumpkin, could not be changed by any magic short of sorcery.
    Unless its molecules remembered a time when they weren’t a pumpkin…
    She laughed, and a billion reflected Liliths laughed with her, all around the curve of the mirror universe.

    Fat Lunchtime was no longer celebrated in the center of Genua. But in the shanty town around the high white buildings it strutted its dark and torchlit stuff. There were fireworks. There were dancers, and fire-eaters, and feathers, and sequins. The witches, whose idea of homely entertainment was a Morris dance, watched openmouthed from the crowded sidewalk as the parades strutted by.
    “There’s dancing skeletons!” said Nanny, as a score of bony figures whirred down the street.
    “They’re not,” said Magrat. “They’re just men in black tights with bones painted on.”
    Someone nudged Granny Weatherwax. She looked up into the large, grinning face of a black man. He passed her a stone jug.
    “There you go, honey.”
    Granny took it, hesitated for a moment, and then took a swig. She nudged Magrat and passed on the bottle.
    “Frgtht!! Gizeer!” she said.
    “What?” shouted Magrat, above the noise of a marching band.
    “The man wants us to pass it on,” said Granny.
    Magrat looked at the bottle neck. She tried surreptitiously to wipe it on her dress, despite the self-evident fact that germs on it would have burned off long ago. She ventured a brief nip, and then nudged Nanny Ogg.
    “Kwizathugner!” she said, and dabbed at her eyes.
    Nanny up-ended the bottle. After a while Magrat nudged her again.
    “I think we’re meant to pass it on?” she ventured.
    Nanny wiped her mouth and passed the now rather lighter jug randomly to a tall figure on her left.
    “Here you go, mister,” she said.
    T HANK YOU .
    “Nice costume you got there. Them bones are painted on really good.”
    Nanny turned back to watch a procession of juggling fire-eaters. Then a connection appeared to be made somewhere in the back of her mind. She looked up. The stranger had wandered off.
    She shrugged.
    “What shall we do next?” she said.
    Granny Weatherwax was staring fixedly at a group of ground-zero limbo dancers. A lot of the dances in the parades had this in common: they expressed explicitly what things like maypoles only hinted at. They covered it with sequins, too.
    “You’ll never feel safe in the privy again, eh?” said Nanny Ogg. At her feet Greebo sat primly watching some dancing women wearing nothing but feathers, trying to work out what to do about them.
    “No. I was thinkin’ of something else. I was thinkin’ about…how stories work. And now…I think I’d like something to eat,” said Granny weakly. She rallied a bit. “And I mean some proper food, not somethin’ scraped off the bottom of a pond. And I don’t want any of this cuisine stuff, neither.”
    “You ought to be more adventurous, Granny,” said Magrat.
    “I ain’t against adventure, in moderation,” said Granny, “but not when I’m eatin’.”
    “There’s a place back there that does alligator sandwiches,” said Nanny, turning away from the parade. “Can you believe that? Alligators in a sandwich?”
    “That reminds me of a joke,” said Granny Weatherwax. Something was nagging at her consciousness.
    Nanny Ogg started to cough, but it didn’t work.
    “This man went into an inn,” said Granny Weatherwax, trying to ignore the rising uneasiness. “And he saw this sign. And it said ‘We serve all kinds of sandwiches.’ And it said, ‘Get me an alligator sandwich—and I want it right away!”
    “I don’t think alligator sandwiches is very kind to alligators,” said Magrat, dropping the observation into the leaden pause.
    “I always say a laugh does you good,” said Nanny.

    Lilith smiled at the figure of Ella, standing forlornly between the snake women.
    “And such a raggedy dress, too,” she said. “And the door to the room was locked. Tut-tut. However can it have happened?”
    Ella stared at her feet.
    Lilith smiled at the sisters. “Well,” she said, “we’ll just have to do the best we can with what we’ve got. Hmm? Fetch me…fetch me two rats and two mice. I know you can always find rats and mice. And bring in the big pumpkin.”
    She laughed. Not the mad, shrill laughter of the bad fairy who’s been defeated, but the rather pleasant laughter of someone who’s just seen the joke.
    She looked reflectively at the wand.
    “But first,” she said, transferring her