Equal Rites

“No,” said Granny, “I didn’t think so. They’ve got him, haven’t they.”

It wasn’t a question. Esk nodded, her face a mask of misery.

“It’s not your fault,” said Granny, “His mind gave Them an opening, and when he was knocked out they took it back with them. Only…”

She drummed her fingers on the edge of the bed, and appeared to reach a decision.

“Who’s the most important wizard around here?” she demanded.

“Um, Lord Cutangle,” said Esk. “He’s the Archchancellor. He was one of the ones who was in here.”

“The fat one, or the one like a streak of vinegar?”

Esk dragged her mind from the image of Simon on the cold desert and found herself saying: “He’s an Eighth Level wizard and a 33-degree mage, actually.”

“You mean he’s bent?” said Granny. “All this hanging around wizards has made you take them seriously, my girl. They all call themselves the Lord High this and the Imperial That, it’s all part of the game. Even magicians do it, you’d think they’d be more sensible at least, but no, they call around saying they’re the Amazing-Bonko-and-Doris. Anyway, where is this High Rumtiddlypo?”

“They’ll be at dinner in the Great Hall,” said Esk. “Can he bring Simon back, then?”

“That’s the difficult part,” said Granny. “I daresay we could all get something back easily enough, walking and talking just like anyone. Whether it would be Simon is quite another sack of ferrets.”

She stood up. “Let’s find this Great Hall, then. No time to waste.”

“Um, women aren’t allowed in,” said Esk.

Granny stopped in the doorway. Her shoulders rose. She turned around very slowly.

“What did you say?” she said. “Did these old ears deceive me, and don’t say they did because they didn’t.”

“Sorry,” said Esk. “Force of habit.”

“I can see you’ve been getting ideas below your station,” said Granny coldly. “Go and find someone to watch over the lad, and let’s see what’s so great about this hall that I mustn’t set foot in it.”

And thus it was that while the entire faculty of Unseen University were dining in the venerable hall the doors were flung back with a dramatic effect that was rather spoiled when one of them rebounded off a waiter and caught Granny a crack on the shin. Instead of the defiant strides she had intended to make across the checkered floor she was forced to half-hop, half-limp. But she hoped that she hopped with dignity.

Esk hurried along behind her, acutely aware of the hundreds of eyes that were turned towards them.

The roar of conversation and the clatter of cutlery faded away. A couple of chairs were knocked over. At the far end of the hall she could see the most senior wizards at their high table, which in fact bobbed a few feet off the floor. They were staring.

A medium-grade wizard—Esk recognised him as a lecturer in Applied Astrology—rushed towards them, waving his hands.

“Nononono,” he shouted. “Wrong door. You must go away.”

“Don’t mind me,” said Granny calmly, pushing past him.

“Nonono, it’s against the lore, you must go away now. Ladies are not allowed in here!”

“I’m not a lady, I’m a witch,” said Granny. She turned to Esk. “Is he very important?”

“I don’t think so,” said Esk.

“Right.” Granny turned to the lecturer: “Go and find me an important wizard, please. Quickly.”

Esk tapped her on the back. A couple of wizards with a rather greater presence of mind had nipped smartly out of the door behind them, and now several college porters were advancing threateningly up the hall, to the cheers and cat-calls of the students. Esk had never much liked the porters, who lived a private life in their lodge, but now she felt a pang of sympathy for them.

Two of them reached out hairy hands and grabbed Granny’s shoulders. Her arm disappeared behind her back and there was a brief flurry of movement that ended with the men hopping away, clutching bits of themselves and swearing.

“Hatpin,” said Granny. She grabbed Esk with her free hand and swept towards the high table, glaring at anyone who so much as looked as if they were going to get in her way. The younger students, who knew free entertainment when they saw it, stamped and cheered and banged their plates on the long tables. The high table settled on the tiles with a thump and the senior wizards hurriedly lined up behind Cutangle as he tried to summon up his reserves of dignity. His efforts didn’t really work; it is very hard to look dignified with a napkin tucked into one’s collar.

He raised his hands for silence, and the hall waited expectantly as Granny and Esk approached him. Granny was looking interestedly at the ancient paintings and statues of bygone mages.

“Who are them buggers?” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

“They used to be chief wizards,” whispered Esk.

“They look constipated. I never met a wizard who was regular,” said Granny.

“They’re a nuisance to dust, that’s all I know,” said Esk.