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a void behind her, and no matter how hard Tiffany Aching was working to fill it – and that nice backhouse boy she now had – Granny Weatherwax was a hard act to follow; she had held the barrier, held it firm.
And if the barrier was no longer strong . . . Magrat shivered. Anyone who had ever met elvenkind knew that ‘terror’ was absolutely the right response – the only response. For the elves were a plague that could spread rapidly, destroying and harming and hurting and poisoning all they touched. She wanted no elves in Lancre.
That evening, Queen Magrat went to her garderobe and took out her beloved broomstick, sat on it and very carefully tried a lift and, slightly against her expectations, it took off gently, rising slowly over the castle. She flew around happily for some minutes and told herself, It’s true – once a witch, always a witch.
Being a dutiful wife, when she wanted to be, she mentioned her intentions to her husband late that evening, and to her surprise King Verence said, ‘Back on the old broomstick, my love? Very glad to hear it. I’ve seen your face when a witch flies by, and no man can keep a bird in chains.’
Magrat smiled and said, ‘I don’t feel like a bird in a cage, my dear, but now we don’t have Granny, I feel I must help.’
‘Well done,’ said Verence. ‘We are all coming to terms with what’s happened, but I am sure Mistress Aching will follow in Granny’s footsteps.’
‘It isn’t like that,’ said Queen Magrat. ‘I think she is walking in her own footsteps.’ She sighed. ‘But there are elves afoot,’ she said. ‘And I believe Tiffany will be at Granny’s cottage – no, her cottage – later today, so I must go and see her, offer my support.’ Her husband shivered at the mention of elves. ‘Of course,’ Magrat continued firmly, ‘I also intend to be a good role model for our children. Young Esme is growing up fast and I want her to see that there’s more to being a queen than waving hellos – we don’t want her to start kissing frogs, now, do we? We all know how that can turn out!’fn2 She turned at the door, and tossed her husband a baby sling. ‘I am quite sure,’ she said sweetly, ‘that you can look after our children very well indeed on your own for a little while.’
Verence smiled weakly.
Magrat made a face that only a witch would see. He holds them upside down sometimes, she thought to herself. He is a very clever man, but give him a baby and he doesn’t really know what to do. She smiled. He could learn. And when she asked him to change a nappy, when Millie was off helping in the kitchen, he pulled a face but he did try anyway.
‘I want to help,’ Magrat said firmly to Tiffany, landing her broomstick outside what they both still thought of as Granny’s cottage, less than an hour after Tiffany had arrived herself, the news quickly flashing up to the castle since Magrat had made it known she wanted to be informed. ‘I am the Queen, but I am also a pretty good witch.’
Tiffany looked into Magrat’s eyes and saw her longing to be a witch once more, just for a little while, and then Magrat said, ‘We have had elves here, Tiffany. Elves!’ And Tiffany remembered Granny Weatherwax telling her how Magrat had fought the elves before – shot one right through the eye with a crossbow indeed!
‘I have experience, Tiffany,’ Magrat continued. ‘And you are going to need everyone you can get if the elves start coming through.’ She paused to think. ‘Even novices. Have you spoken to Miss Tick?’
‘Yes,’ said Tiffany. ‘She says she has found one or two likely girls, but not everyone can be a witch, even if they want to be. And at the moment it’s not . . . possible to take a girl on in my steading on the Chalk.’
‘Why not? And what about your friend Petulia, her with the piggery?’
‘Well, she has the skills,’ said Tiffany, ignoring the first of Magrat’s questions. ‘But Petulia helps her husband to run the farm – says she spends all her time among creatures who go “grunt”, and that sometimes includes the old pig farmers! And you have to admit that pig-boring is good for everybody, even the pigs. It’s terrible to hear the squealing if she’s not there.’
‘Well, we may still need her up here, pigs or not. And heavy waterproof boots can take an arrow,’ said Magrat. ‘So, any sign of elves down on the Chalk?’
Tiffany coloured, uncertain how Magrat would take her news about Nightshade, but thinking a little guiltily that at least it would save her having to tell Nanny Ogg herself. She told her about the beer first, then about Nightshade. How the elf was staying at her parents’ farm, watched over by Feegles. Making it impossible to take on any other help.
Magrat knew the Feegles would keep the elf from causing any trouble, but she was surprised by what Tiffany told her. ‘Are you telling me you think you can trust an elf?’ she said. Her face had paled. ‘No elf is trustworthy,’ she added. ‘They wouldn’t even know the meaning of the word. Yet you trust this elf? Why?’
‘No,’ said Tiffany. ‘I don’t trust her. But I think this elf wants to live. Nightshade has already seen for herself that our world is changing. The iron, you know. And now she has encountered ideas unknown to her. We might just be making some progress, and I think it’s worth a try. Perhaps she might then go back to Fairyland and . . . persuade other elves to think like her? To leave us alone.’ She paused. ‘The kelda of the Feegles warned me, Magrat. She said that Granny’s going would leave a . . . hole. That we needed to take great care. It’s the elves! It has to be. So if this elf can help, well, I must try . . .’
‘Hmm, but if those others do start coming, you’re going to need help, Tiffany,’ said Magrat. She thought for a moment. ‘I understand the Baron on the Chalk has a wife who is a witch . . .?’
‘Yes,’ said Tiffany. ‘Letitia Keepsake. But she’s not trained and her husband is a bit – how should I say it? – snobby.’
Magrat said, ‘Well, my dear, if you want, I’ll fly down there and drop in for tea one day. And hint, in a subtle way, that the idea of being a witch for the people at large might be a good idea. My Verence, you know, likes to be thought of as a king of the people, and in fact, I feel sure he thinks I am being a good example to the population by working as a witch now. He talks like that, sometimes, but I love him nevertheless. The idea of this Letitia being friends with a queen might stop her husband interfering.’
Tiffany said, ‘I am amazed. Just like that?’
‘Trust me,’ said Queen Magrat. ‘Crowns are important, you know.’
Tiffany flew back to the Chalk feeling a bit happier. Magrat would be a useful ally, and perhaps Letitia would be able to help too. But we are still short of witches, so we must take pains to get more, she thought. Furious pains. That means pulling in every witch and likely witch to learn at least some of the craft and how to deal with the glamour of elves.
Elves! Nastiness for the sake of being nasty. As Granny Aching had told her, they would take away the stick of a man with no legs. Nasty, unpleasant, stupid, annoying – trouble and discord just for the pleasure of it. Worse. They brought actual horror, and terror, and pain . . . And they laughed, which was bad enough because their laughter was actually musical and you could wonder why such wonderful music could come from such unpleasant creatures. They cared for nobody except themselves and possibly not even that.
But Nightshade . . . Perhaps there was one elf for whom the wheel was turning. Especially the iron wheels . . .
fn1 It had been in The Goode Childe’s Booke of Faerie Tales and told how two little elves secretly helped a poor shoemaker, but sadly experience had taught Tiffany that a lot of what was in that book bore no relation whatsoever to the real Fairyland.
fn2 Most princesses never tried to kiss toads, however, which had been a source of sadness to the Feegles’ toad lawyer for many years.
CHAPTER 15
