Witches Abroad

"It's just that I can't stand unfairness," said Granny. "And you stop that grinning! Anyway, I don't see why you're making a fuss about it. It wore off after a couple of days."

"Mrs Wilkins says he still goes out swimming a lot," said Magrat. "It's given him a whole new interest, she said."

"Perhaps they have a different kind of witch in the city," said Magrat hopelessly. "Perhaps they wear different sort of clothes."

"There's only one kind of witch," said Granny. "And we're it."

She looked around the room. Of course, she thought, if someone was keeping witches out, people wouldn't know about them. Someone who didn't want anyone else meddling here. But she let us in...

"Oh, well, at least we're in the dry," said Nanny. A drinker standing in a crowd behind her threw back his head to laugh and spilled beer down her back.

She muttered something under her breath.

Magrat saw the man look down to take another swig and stare, wide-eyed, into the mug. Then he dropped it and fought his way out of the room, clutching at his throat.

"What did you do to his drink?" she said.

"You ain't old enough to be tole," said Nanny.

At home, if a witch wanted a table to herself it... just happened. The sight of the pointy hat was enough. People kept a polite distance, occasionally sending free drinks to her. Even Magrat got respect, not particularly because anyone was in awe of her, but because a slight to one witch was a slight to all witches and no-one wanted Granny Weatherwax coming around to explain this to them. Here they were being jostled, as if they were ordinary. Only Nanny Ogg's warning hand on Granny Weatherwax's arm was keeping a dozen jovial drinkers from unnatural amphibianhood, and even Nanny's usually very elastic temper was beginning to twang. She always prided herself on being as ordinary as muck, but there was ordinary and there was ordinary. It was like being that Prince Whatsisname, in the nursery story, who liked to wander around his kingdom dressed up as a commoner; she'd always had a shrewd suspicion that the little pervert made sure people knew who he was beforehand, just in case anyone tried to get too common. It was like getting muddy. Getting muddy when you had a nice hot tub to look forward to was fun; getting muddy when all you had to look forward to was more mud was no fun at all. She reached a conclusion.

"Hey, why don't we have a drink?" said Nanny Ogg brightly. "We'd all feel better for a drink."

"Oh no," said Granny. "You caught me with that herbal drink last time. I'm sure there was alcohol in that. I def'nitely felt a bit woozy after the sixth glass. I ain't drinking any more foreign muck."

"You've got to drink something," said Magrat soothingly. "I'm thirsty, anyway." She looked vaguely at the crowded bar. "Perhaps they do some kind of fruit cup, or something."

"Bound to," said Nanny Ogg. She stood up, glanced at the bar, and surreptitiously removed a hatpin from her hat. "Shan't be a moment."

The two of them were left in their own private gloom. Granny sat staring fixedly in front of her.

"You really shouldn't take it so bad, just because people aren't showing you any respect," said Magrat, pouring soothing oil on the internal fires. "They've hardly ever shown me any respect at all. It's not a problem."

"If you ain't got respect, you ain't got a thing," said Granny distantly.

"Oh, I don't know. I've always managed to get along," said Magrat.

"That's ‘cos you're a wet hen, Magrat Garlick," said Granny.

There was a short, hot silence, ringing with the words that shouldn't have escaped and a few grunts of pained surprise from the direction of the bar.

I know she's always thought that, Magrat told herself within the glowing walls of her embarrassment. I just never thought she'd ever say it. And she'll never say sorry, because that's not the kind of thing she does. She just expects people to forget things like that. I was just trying to be friends again. If she ever really has any friends.

"Here we are then," said Nanny Ogg, emerging from the crush with a tray. "Fruit drinks."

She sat down and looked from one to the other.

"Made from bananas," she said, in the hope of striking a spark of interest from either woman. "I remember our Shane brought a banana home once. My, we had a good laugh about that. I said to the man, "What kind of fruit drinks do people drink around here?" and this is what he gave me. Made from bananas. A banana drink. You'll like it. It's what everyone drinks here. It's got bananas in it."

"It's certainly very... strongly flavoured," said Magrat, sipping hers cautiously. "Has it got sugar in it too?"

"Very likely," said Nanny. She looked at Granny's middle-distance frown for a moment, and then picked up her pencil and licked the end professionally.