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'I expects I would,' said Granny. 'And I 'opes they works better for him.'
She thumped on the door again. And this time it opened, very slowly. A pale face peered around it.
'Excuse me - ' Magrat began.
Granny pushed the door open. The face's owner had been leaning on it; they could hear the scrape of his boots over the floor as he was shoved gently backwards.
'Blessings be on this house,' Granny said, perfunctorily. It was always a good opening remark for a witch. It concentrated people's minds on what other things might be on this house, and reminded them about any fresh cakes, newly-baked bread or bundles of useful old clothing that might have temporarily escaped their minds.
It looked like one of the other things had been on this house already.
It was an inn, of sorts. The three witches had never seen such a cheerless place in their lives. But it was quite crowded. A score or more pale-faced people watched them solemnly from benches around the walls.
urse, there was her. After all this time . . .
Of course. She approved of that. Because there would have to be three of them. Three was an important number for stories. Three wishes, three princes, three billy goats, three guesses . . . three witches. The maiden, the mother and the . . . other one. That was one of the oldest stories of all.
Esme Weatherwax had never understood stories. She'd never understood how real reflections were. If she had, she'd probably have been ruling the world by now.
'You're always looking in mirrors!' said a petulant voice. 'I hate it when you're always looking in mirrors!'
The Duc sprawled in a chair in one corner, all black silk and well-turned legs. Lilith would not normally allow anyone inside the nest of mirrors but it was, technically, his castle. Besides, he was too vain and stupid to know what was going on. She'd seen to that. At least, she'd thought she had. Lately, he seemed to be picking things up. . .
'I don't know why you have to do that,' he whined. 'I thought magic was just a matter of pointing and going whoosh.'
Lilith picked up her hat, and glanced at a mirror as she adjusted it.
'This way's safer,' she said. 'It's self-contained. When you use mirror magic, you don't have to rely on anyone except yourself. That's why no-one's ever conquered the world with magic . . . yet. They try to take it from . . . other places. And there's always a price. But with mirrors, you're beholden to no-one but your own soul.'
She lowered the veil from the hat brim. She preferred the privacy of a veil, outside the security of the mirrors.
'I hate mirrors,' muttered the Duc.
'That's because they tell you the truth, my lad.'
'It's cruel magic, then.'
Lilith tweaked the veil into a fetching shape.
'Oh, yes. With mirrors, all the power is your own. There's nowhere else it can come from,' she said.
'The swamp woman gets it from the swamp,' said the Duc.
'Ha! And it'll claim her one day. She doesn't understand what she's doing.'
'And you do?'
She felt a pang of pride. He was actually resenting her! She really had done a good job there.
'I understand stories,' she said. 'That's all I need.'
'But you haven't brought me the girl,' said the Duc. 'You promised me the girl. And then it'll be all over and I can sleep in a real bed and I won't need any more reflecting magic —'
But even a good job can go too far.
'You've had your fill of magic?' said Lilith sweetly. 'You'd like me to stop? It would be the easiest thing in the world. I found you in the gutter. Would you like me to send you back?'
His face became a mask of panic.
