Lords And Ladies

Hunters say that, just sometimes, an animal will step out of the bushes and stand there waiting for the spear . . .

Magrat managed to half-raise the axe, and then her hand slumped to her side. She looked down. The correct attitude of a human before an elf was one of shame. She had shouted so coarsely at something as beautiful as an elf. . .

The Queen dismounted and walked over to her.

"Don't touch her," said Granny.

The Queen nodded.

"You can resist," she said. "But you see, it doesn't matter. We can take Lancre without a fight. There is nothing you can do about it. Look at the brave little army, standing like sheep. Humans are so enthusiastic."

Granny looked at her boots.

"You can't rule while I'm alive," she said.

"There's no trickery here," said the Queen. "No silly women with bags of sweets."

"You noticed that, did you?" said Granny. "Gytha meant well, I expect. Daft old biddy. Mind if I sit down?"

"Of course you may," said the Queen. "You are an old woman now, after all."

She nodded to the elves. Granny subsided gratefully on to a rock, her hands still tied behind her.

"That's the thing about witchcraft," she said. "It doesn't exactly keep you young, but you do stay old for longer. Whereas you, of course, do not age," she added.

"Indeed, we do not."

"But I suspect you may be capable of being reduced."

The Queen's smile didn't vanish, but it did freeze, as smiles do when their owner is not certain about what has just been said and isn't sure what to say next.

"You meddled in a play," said Granny. "I believe you don't realize what you've done. Plays and books . . . you've got to keep an eye on the buggers. They'll turn on you. I mean to see that they do." She nodded amicably at an elf covered in woad and badly tanned skins. "Ain't that so, Fairy Peaseblossom?"

The Queen's brows knotted.

"But that is not his name," she said.

Granny Weatherwax gave the Queen a bright smile.

"We shall see," she said. "There's a lot more humans these days, and lots of them live in cities, and they don't know much about elves one way or another. And they've got iron in their heads. You're too late."

"No. Humans always need us," said the Queen.

"They don't. Sometimes they want you. That's different. But all you can give 'em is gold that melts away in the morning."

"There are those who would say that gold for one night is enough."

"No."

"Better than iron, you stupid old hag, you stupid child who has grown older and done nothing and been nothing."

"No. It's just soft and shiny. Pretty to look at and no damn use at all," said Granny, her voice still quite calm and level. "But this is a real world, madam. That's what I had to learn. And real people in it. You got no right to 'em. People've got enough to cope with just being people. They don't need you swanking around with your shiny hair and shiny eyes and shiny gold, going sideways through life, always young, always singing, never learning."

"You didn't always think like this."

"That was a long time ago. And, my lady, old I may be, and hag I may be, but stupid I ain't. You're no kind of goddess. I ain't against gods and goddesses, in their place. But they've got to be the ones we make ourselves. Then we can take 'em to bits for the parts when we don't need 'em anymore, see? And elves far away in fairyland, well, maybe that's something people need to get 'emselves through the iron times. But I ain't having elves here. You make us want what we can't have and what you give us is worth nothing and what you take is everything and all there is left for us is the cold hillside, and emptiness, and the laughter of the elves."

She took a deep breath. "So bugger off."

"Make us, old woman."

"I thought you'd say that."

"We don't want the world. Just this little kingdom will do. And we will take it, whether it wants us or not."

"Over my dead body, madam."

"If that is a condition."

The Queen lashed out mentally, like a cat.

Granny Weatherwax winced, and leaned backward for a moment.

"Madam?"

"Yes?" said the Queen.

"There aren't any rules, are there?"

"Rules? What are rules?" said the Queen.

"I thought so," said Granny. "Gytha Ogg?"

Nanny managed to turn her head.

"Yes, Esme?"

"My box. You know. The one in the dresser. You'll know what to do."

Granny Weatherwax smiled. The Queen swayed sideways, as if she'd been slapped.

"You have learned," she said.

"Oh, yes. You know I never entered your circle. I could see where it led. So I had to learn. All my life. The hard way. And the hard way's pretty hard, but not so hard as the easy way. I learned. From the trolls and the dwarfs and from people. Even from pebbles."

The Queen lowered her voice.

"You will not be killed," she whispered. "I promise you that. You'll be left alive, to dribble and gibber and soil yourself and wander from door to door for scraps. And they'll say: there goes the mad old woman."

"They say that now," said Granny Weatherwax. "They think I can't hear."