Witches Abroad

Mrs Gogol had a long sliver of wood in her hand. Shaking her head desperately, she jabbed it into the doll's foot.

Everyone saw Esme Weatherwax wince.

Another sliver was thrust into a raggedy arm.

Slowly, Granny raised her other hand and shuddered when she touched her sleeve. Then, limping slightly, she continued to climb the stairs.

"I can do the heart next. Mistress Weatherwax!" shouted Mrs Gogol.

"I'm sure you can. You're good at it. You know you're good at it," said Granny, without looking around.

Mrs Gogol stuck another sliver into a leg. Granny sagged, and clutched at the banister. Beside her, one of the big torches flamed.

"Next time!" said Mrs Gogol. "Right? Next time. I can do it!"

Granny turned around.

She looked at the hundreds of upturned faces.

When she spoke, her voice was so quiet that they had to strain to hear.

"I know you can too, Mrs Gogol. You really believe. Just remind me again- we're playin' for Lily, right? And for the city?"

"What does that matter now?" said Mrs Gogol. "Ain't you going to give in?"

Granny Weatherwax thrust a little finger into her ear and wiggled it thoughtfully.

"No," she said. "No, I don't reckon that's what I do now. Are you watchin', Mrs Gogol? Are you watchin' real close?"

Her gaze travelled the room and rested for just a fraction of a second on Magrat.

Then she reached over, carefully, and thrust her arm up to the elbow into the burning torch.

And the doll in Erzulie Gogol's hands burst into flame.

It went on blazing even after the witch had screamed and dropped it on to the floor. It went on burning until Nanny Ogg ambled over with a jug of fruit juice from the buffet, whistling between her teeth, and put it out.

Granny withdrew her hand. It was unscathed.

"That's headology," she said. "It's the only thing that matters. Everything else is just messin' about. Hope I didn't hurt you, Mrs Gogol."

She went on up the stairs.

Mrs Gogol kept on staring at the damp ashes. Nanny Ogg patted her companionably on the shoulder.

"How did she do that?" said Mrs Gogol.

"She didn't. She let you do it," said Nanny. "You got to watch yourself around Esme Weatherwax. I'd like to see one of them Zen buggers come up against her one day."

"And she's the good one?" said Baron Saturday.

"Yeah," said Nanny. "Funny how things work out, really."

She looked thoughtfully at the empty fruit juice jug in her hand.

"What this needs," she said, in the manner of one reaching a conclusion after much careful consideration, "is some bananas and rum and stuff in it - "

Magrat grabbed her dress as Nanny strode determinedly dak'rywards.

"Not now," she said. "We'd better get after Granny! She might need us!"

"Shouldn't think so for one minute," said Nanny. "I wouldn't like to be in Lily's shoes when Esme catches up with her."

"But I've never seen Granny so agitated," said Magrat. "Anything could happen."

"Good job if it does," said Nanny. She nodded meaningfully at a flunkey who, being quick on the uptake, leapt to attention.

"But she might do something - dreadful."

"Good. She's always wanted to," said Nanny. "Another banana dak'ry, mahatma coat, chopchop."

"No. It wouldn't be a good idea," Magrat persisted.

"Oh, all right," said Nanny. She handed the empty jug to Baron Saturday, who took it in a kind of hypnotic daze.

"We're just going to sort things out," she said. "Sorry about this. On with the motley... if anyone's got any left."

When the witches had gone Mrs Gogol reached down and picked up the damp remains of the doll.

One or two people coughed.

"Is that it?" said the Baron. "After twelve years?"

"The Prince is dead," said Mrs Gogol. "Such as he was."

"But you promised that I would be revenged on her," the Baron said.

"I think there will be revenge," said Mrs Gogol. She tossed the doll on to the floor. "Lilith has been fighting me for twelve years and she never got through. This one didn't even have to sweat. So I think there will be revenge."

"You don't have to keep your word!"

"I do. I've got to keep something." Mrs Gogol put her arm around Ella's shoulder.

"This is it, girl," she said. "Your palace. Your city. There isn't a person here who will deny it."

She glared at the guests. One or two of them stepped backwards.

Ella looked up at Saturday.

"I feel I should know you," she said. She turned to Mrs Gogol. "And you," she added. "I've seen you both... before. A long time ago?"

Baron Saturday opened his mouth to speak. Mrs Gogol held up her hand.

"We promised," she said. "No interference."

"Not from us?"

"Not even from us." She turned back to Ella. "We're just people."

"You mean..." said Ella, "I've slaved in a kitchen for years... and now... I'm supposed to rule the city? Just like that?"

"That's how it goes."

Ella looked down, deep in thought.

"And anything I say people have to do?" she said innocently.

There were a few nervous coughs from the crowd.

"Yes," said Mrs Gogol.

Ella stood looking down at the floor, idly biting a thumbnail. Then she looked up.