Terry Pratchett - Wintersmith

Nanny Ogg patted Tiffany's hand. "If she wants to see what you can do, show her what you can do, Tiff, eh? That's the way! Surprise her!"

"You mean the Summer Lady?" said Tiffany.

Nanny winked. "Oh, and the Summer Lady, too!"

There was what sounded very much like the start of a laugh from Miss Tick before Granny Weatherwax glared at her.

Tiffany sighed. It was all very well to talk about choices, but she had no choice here.

"All right. What else can I expect apart from…well, the feet?"

"I'm, er, checking," said Miss Tick, still thumbing through the book. "Ah…it says here that she was, I mean is, fairer than all the stars in heaven…."

They all looked at Tiffany.

"You could try doing something with your hair," said Nanny Ogg after a while.

"Like what?" said Tiffany.

"Like anything, really."

"Apart from the feet and doing something with my hair," said Tiffany sharply, "is there anything else?"

"Says here, quoting a very old manuscript: ‘She waketh the grasses in Aprill and filleth the beehives with honey swete,'" Miss Tick reported.

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know, but I suspect that happens anyway," said Miss Tick.

"And the Summer Lady gets the credit?"

"I think she just has to exist for it to happen, really," said Miss Tick.

"Anything else?"

"Er, yes. You have to make sure the winter ends," said Miss Tick. "And, of course, deal with the Wintersmith."

"And how do I do that?"

"We think that you just have to…be there," said Granny Weatherwax. "Or perhaps you'll know what to do when the time comes."

Meep.

"Be where?" said Tiffany.

"Everywhere. Anywhere."

"Granny, your hat squeaked," said Tiffany. "It went meep!"

"No it didn't," Granny said sharply.

"It did, you know," said Nanny Ogg. "I heard it too."

Granny Weatherwax grunted and pulled off her hat. The white kitten, curled around her tight bun of hair, blinked in the light.

"I can't help it," Granny muttered. "If I leave the dratted thing alone, it goes under the dresser and cries and cries." She looked around at the others as if daring them to say anything. "Anyway," she added, "it keeps m' head warm."

On his chair, the yellow slit of Greebo's left eye opened lazily.

"Get down, You," said Granny, lifting the kitten off her head and putting it on the floor. "I daresay Mrs. Ogg has got some milk in the kitchen."

"Not much," said Nanny. "I'll swear something's been drinking it!"

Greebo's eye opened all the way, and he began to growl softly.

"You sure you know what you're doing, Esme?" said Nanny Ogg, reaching for a cushion to throw. "He's very protective of his territory."

You the kitten sat on the floor and washed her ears. Then, as Greebo got to his feet, she fixed him with an innocent little stare and took a flying leap onto his nose, landing on it with all her claws out.

"So is she," said Granny Weatherwax, as Greebo erupted from the chair and hurtled around the room before disappearing into the kitchen. There was a crash of saucepans followed by the groioioioing of a saucepan lid spinning into silence on the floor.

The kitten padded back into the room, hopped into the empty chair, and curled up.

"He brought in half a wolf last week," said Nanny Ogg. "You haven't been hexperimenting

And no one heard the Wintersmith say: "Sulfur enough to make a man!"

Nanny Ogg was sitting by the fire when Tiffany came in, stamping snow off her boots.

"You look frozen all through," Nanny said. "You need a glass of hot milk with a drop of brandy in it, that's what you need."

"Ooh, yyess…" Tiffany managed through chattering teeth.

"Get me one too, then, will you?" said Nanny. "Only joking. You get warmed up; I'll see to the drink."

Tiffany's feet felt like blocks of ice. She knelt by the fire and stretched out her hand to the stockpot on its big black hook. It bubbled all the time.

Get your mind right, and balance. Reach out and cup your hands around it, and concentrate, concentrate, on your freezing boots.

After a while her toes felt warm and then—

"Ow!" Tiffany pulled her hands away and sucked at her fingers.

"Didn't have your mind right," said Nanny Ogg from the doorway.

"Well, you know, that's just a bit difficult when you've had a long day and you didn't sleep much and the Wintersmith is looking for you," snapped Tiffany.

"The fire doesn't care," said Nanny, shrugging. "Hot milk coming up."

Things were a little better when Tiffany had warmed up. She wondered how much brandy Nanny had added to the milk. Nanny had done one for herself, with probably some milk added to the brandy.

"Isn't this nice and cozy," said Nanny after a while.

"Is this going to be the talk about sex?" said Tiffany.

"Did anyone say there was going to be one?" said Nanny innocently.

"I kind of got the feeling," said Tiffany. "And I know where babies come from, Mrs. Ogg."

"I should hope so."

"I know how they get there, too. I live on a farm and I've got a lot of older sisters."

"Ah, right," said Nanny. "Well, I see you're pretty well prepared for life, then. Not much left for me to tell you, I expect. And I've never had a god pay any attention to me, as far as I can recall. Flattered, are you?"

"No!" Tiffany looked into Nanny's smile. "Well, a bit," she admitted.

"And frightened of him?"

"Yes."

"Well, the poor thing hasn't quite got it right yet. He started off so well, with the ice roses and everything, and then he wanted to show you his muscles. Typical. But you shouldn't be frightened of him. He should be frightened of you."

"Why? Because I'm pretending to be the flower woman?"

"Because you're a girl! It's a poor lookout if a bright girl can't wind a boy around her little finger. He's smitten with you. You could make his life a misery with a word. Why, when I was a girl, a young man nearly threw himself off the Lancre Bridge because I spurned his advances!"

"He did? What happened?"

"I unspurned 'em. Well, he looked so pretty standing there, and I thought, that's a good-looking bum on him if ever I saw one." Nanny sat back. "And think about poor ol' Greebo. He'll fight anything. But Esme's little white kitten leaped straight at him, and now the poor dear won't come into this room without peering around the door to check that she's not here. You should see his poor little face when he does, too. It's all wrinkled up. O' course, he could tear her into bits with one claw, but he can't now 'cuz she's fixed his head."

"You're not saying I should try to tear the Wintersmith's face off, are you?"

"No, no, you don't have to be as blunt as that. Give him a little hope. Be kind but firm—"

"He wants to marry me!"

"Good."

"Good?"

"That means he wants to stay friendly. Don't say no, don't say yes. Act like a queen. He's got to learn to show you some respect. What are you doing?"

"Writing this down," said Tiffany, scribbling in her diary.

"You don't need to write it down, love," said Nanny. "It's written down in you somewhere. On a page you haven't read yet, I reckon. Which reminds me, these came when you were out." Nanny fished down among the seat cushions and pulled out a couple of envelopes. "My boy Shawn is the postman, so he knew you'd moved."

Tiffany nearly snatched them out of her hand. Two letters! "Like him, do you? Your young man in the castle?" said Nanny.

"He's a friend who writes to me," said Tiffany haughtily.

"That's right, that's just the look and voice you need for dealing with the Wintersmith!" said Nanny, looking delighted. "Who does he think he is, daring to talk to you? That's the way!"

"I shall read them in my room," said Tiffany.

Nanny nodded. "One of the girls did us a lovely casserole," she said (famously, Nanny never remembered the names of her daughters-in-law). "Yours is in the oven. I'm off to the pub. Early start tomorrow!"