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Their eyes met. Mrs Whitlow might have had her weaknesses but she was quite tough enough to rule the below-stairs world of the University. However, Granny could outstare a snake; after a few seconds the housekeeper's eyes began to water.
“Yes, Aye expect you are,” she said meekly, and fished a handkerchief from the recesses of her bosom.
“Well then,” said Granny, sitting back and replacing the teacup in its saucer.
“There are plenty of opportunities here for a young woman willing to work hard,” said Mrs Whitlow. “Aye myself started as a maid, you know.”
“We all do,” said Granny vaguely. “And now I must be going.” She stood up and reached for her hat.
“But -”
“Must hurry. Urgent appointment,” said Granny over her shoulder as she hurried down the steps.
“There's a bundle of old clothes -”
Granny paused, her instincts battling for mastery.
“Any black velvet?”
“Yes, and some silk.”
Granny wasn't sure she approved of silk, she'd heard it came out of a caterpillar's bottom, but black velvet had a powerful attraction. Loyalty won.
“Put it on one side, I may call again,” she shouted, and ran down the corridor.
Cooks and scullery maids darted for cover as the old woman pounded along the slippery flagstones, leapt up the stairs to the courtyard and skidded out into the lane, her shawl flying out behind her and her boots striking sparks from the cobbles. Once out into the open she hitched up her skirts and broke into a full gallop, turning the corner into the main square in a screeching two-boot drift that left a long white scratch across the stones.
She was just in time to see Esk come running through the gates, in tears.
“The magic just wouldn't work! I could feel it there but it just wouldn't come out!”
“Perhaps you were trying too hard,” said Granny. “Magic's like fishing. Jumping around and splashing never caught any fish, you have to bide quiet and let it happen natural.”
“And then everyone laughed at me! Someone even gave me a sweet!”
“You got some profit out of the day, then,” said Granny.
“Granny!” said Esk accusingly.
“Well, what did you expect?” she asked. “At least they only laughed at you. Laughter don't hurt. You walked up to chief wizard and showed off in front of everyone and only got laughed at? You're doing well, you are. Have you eaten the sweet?”
Esk scowled. “Yes.”
“What kind was it?”
“Toffee.”
“Can't abide toffee.”
“Huh,” said Esk, “I suppose you want me to get peppermint next time?”
“Don't you sarky me, young-fellow-me-lass. Nothing wrong with peppermint. Pass me that bowl.”
Another advantage of city life, Granny had discovered, was glassware. Some of her more complicated potions required apparatus which either had to be bought from the dwarves at extortionate rates or, if ordered from the nearest human glassblower, arrived in straw and, usually, pieces. She had tried blowing her own and the effort always made her cough, which produced some very funny results. But the city's thriving alchemy profession meant that there were whole shops full of glass for the buying, and a witch could always arrange bargain prices.
She watched carefully as yellow steam surged along a twisty maze of tubing and eventually condensed as one large, sticky droplet. She caught it neatly on the end of a glass spoon and very carefully tipped it into a tiny glass phial.
Esk watched her through her tears.
