I Shall Wear Midnight Read online

Page 5


  Tiffany could still feel a tension in the air. The kelda’s solemn little gaze stayed fixed on her, and then Jeannie said, ‘Can you remember yesterday?’

  It sounded like a silly question, but Jeannie was never silly. It was worth thinking about, although Tiffany yearned for some suicidal sheep and a decent night’s sleep.

  ‘Yesterday – well, I suppose it’s the day before yesterday now – I was called over to Buckle-Without,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘The blacksmith there had not been careful with his forge, and it had broken open and shot hot coals all down his leg. I treated him and took away the pain, which I put in his anvil. For the doing of this, I was paid twenty-four pounds of potatoes, three cured deerskins, half a bucket of nails, one old but serviceable sheet good enough to make bandages and one small jar of hedgehog fat which his wife swore was a capital remedy for inflammation of the pipes. I also had a good helping of stew with the family. Then, since I was in the vicinity, I went on to Buckle-With-Many, where I saw to Mr Gower’s little problem. I mentioned to him about the hedgehog fat, and he said it was a wonderful cure for the unmentionables, and traded me one whole ham for the jar. Mrs Gower made me tea and allowed me to pick a bushel basket of love-in-a-pickle, which grows more freely in her garden than I have ever seen it grow anywhere else.’ Tiffany paused a moment. ‘Oh yes, and then I stopped off at Wits End to change a poultice, and then I went and saw to the Baron, and then, of course, the rest of the day was my own, hah! But on the whole it was not a bad day, as days go, as people were too busy thinking about the fair.’

  ‘And as days go, the day has gone,’ said the kelda, ‘and no doubt it was a busy and useful one. But all day I had premonitions about ye, Tiffany Aching.’ Jeannie held up a small nut-brown hand as Tiffany began to protest, and went on, ‘Tiffany, ye must know that I watch over you. Ye are the hag o’ the hills, after all, and I have the power to

  watch ye in my heid, to keep an eye on ye, because somebody must. I know ye know this because ye are clever, and I know that ye pretend to me that ye do not know, just as I pretend not to know that I know, and I am sure that ye know that too, yes?’

  ‘I might have to work all that out with a pencil and paper,’ Tiffany said, trying to laugh it off.

  ‘It is nae funny! I can see ye clouded in my heid. Danger around ye. And the worst of it is, I cannae see from whence it comes. And that is not right!’

  Just as Tiffany opened her mouth, half a dozen Feegles came scurrying down the tunnel from the mound, carrying a plate between them. Tiffany couldn’t help noticing, because witches always noticed things if they possibly can, that the blue decoration around the edge of the plate looked very much like that on her mother’s second-best dinner service. The rest of the plate was obscured by a large piece of mutton, along with jacket potatoes. It smelled wonderful, and her stomach took over her brain. A witch took her meals where she could, and was happy to get them.

  The meat had been cut in half, although the half for the kelda was slightly smaller than the half for Tiffany. Strictly speaking, you cannot have a half that is smaller than the other half, because it wouldn’t be a half, but human beings know what it means. And keldas always had a huge appetite for their size, because they had babies to make.

  This wasn’t time to talk anyway. A Feegle offered Tiffany a knife which was, in fact, a Feegle claymore, and then held up a rather grubby tin can with a spoon stuck in it.

  ‘Relish?’ he suggested shyly.

  This was a bit posh for a Feegle meal, although Jeannie was civilizing them somewhat, in so far as you could civilize a Feegle. At least they were getting the right idea. Nevertheless, Tiffany understood enough to be wary.

  ‘What’s in it?’ she asked, knowing that this was a dangerous question.

  ‘Oh, wonderful stuff,’ said the Feegle, rattling the spoon in the can. ‘There’s crabapple, there is, and mustard seed and horseradish and snails and wild herbs and garlic and a sprinkling of Johnny-come-lately—’ But he had gabbled one word a bit too quickly for Tiffany’s taste.

  ‘Snails?’ she interrupted.

  ‘Oh aye, yes, very nourishing, full of vit’mins and min’rals, ye ken, and those wee pro-teenies, and the nice thing is, with enough garlic, they taste of garlic.’

  ‘What do they taste of if you don’t use garlic?’ said Tiffany.

  ‘Snails,’ said the kelda, taking pity on the waiter, ‘and I have to say they are good eating, my girl. The boys let them out at night to graze on wild cabbage and dog lettuce. They are quite tasty, and I think ye might approve of the fact that there is no stealing involved.’

  Well, that was a good thing, Tiffany had to admit. Feegles did steal, joyously and repeatedly, as much for sport as anything else. On the other hand, to the right people, in the right place, at the right time, they could be very generous, and this was, fortunately, happening right now.

  ‘Even so, Feegles farming?’ she said aloud.

  ‘Oh no,’ said the spokesfeegle, while his fellows behind him pantomimed insulted distaste by making ‘yuk’ noises and sticking their fingers down their throat. ‘It is nae farming, it is livestock herding, as is suitable for them who is free o’ spirit and likes to feel the wind up their kilt. Mind ye, the stampedes can be a wee bit embarrassing.’

  ‘Have some, please do,’ the kelda pleaded. ‘It will encourage them.’

  In fact, the new Feegle cuisine was quite tasty. Perhaps it’s true what they say, thought Tiffany, that anything goes with garlic. Except custard.

  ‘Don’t mind my boys,’ said Jeannie when they had both eaten their fill. ‘The times are changing and I think they know it. For ye too. How do ye feel?’

  ‘Oh, you know. The usual,’ said Tiffany. ‘Tired, flustered and upset. That sort of thing.’

  ‘Ye work too hard, my girl. I fear ye do not have enough to eat, and I can certainly see ye don’t get enough sleep. When did ye last sleep the night in a proper bed, I wonder? Ye ken that ye must have sleep; ye cannae think properly without some time to rest. I fear ye will soon need all the strength ye can muster. Would ye like me to put the soothings on ye?’

  Tiffany yawned again. ‘Thank you for offering, Jeannie,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think I need them, if it’s all the same to you.’ There was a pile of greasy fleeces in the corner that had probably not long before belonged to sheep who had decided to say goodbye to the cruel world and commit suicide. They looked very inviting. ‘I had better go and see to the girl.’ Tiffany’s legs did not seem to want her to move. ‘Still, I expect she is as safe as houses in a Feegle mound.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Jeannie softly as Tiffany’s eyes shut. ‘Much, much safer than houses.’

  When Tiffany was actually snoring, Jeannie walked slowly up and into the mound itself. Amber was curled up near the fire, but Rob Anybody had stationed some of the older and wiser Feegles around her. This was because the evening fighting was going on. The Nac Mac Feegle fought as often as they breathed, and generally at the same time. It was by way of being a way of life, in a way. Besides, when you were only a few inches tall, you had the whole world to fight and so you might as well learn early.

  Jeannie sat down by her husband and watched the brawling for a while. Young Feegles were bouncing off the walls, their uncles and one another. Then she said, ‘Rob, do ye think we are bringing our boys up properly?’

  Rob Anybody, who was sensitive to Jeannie’s mood, glanced across at the sleeping girl.

  ‘Oh aye, no doubt about it—Hey, did ye no’ see that? Slightly-more-wee-than-wee-Jock-Jock kicked Daft Wullie in the pog! Wonderful dirty fightin’, and he’s still only three inches high!’

  ‘He is going to make a grand warrior one day, Rob, that’s true enough,’ said Jeannie, ‘but …’

  ‘I always tell them,’ Rob Anybody went on excitedly as the young Feegle flew over their heads, ‘that the way to success is always to attack only people who are much bigger than ye are! Important rule!’

  Jeannie sighed as another y
oung Feegle smacked into the wall, shook his head and rushed back into the fight. It was almost impossible to hurt a Feegle. Any human who tried to stamp on a Feegle would find that the little man he thought was under his boot was now in fact climbing up his trouser leg, and after that the day could only get worse. Besides, if you saw one Feegle, there were probably many more around that you hadn’t spotted, and they had certainly spotted you.

  Perhaps the bigjobs have bigger problems because they’re bigger than us, the kelda thought. She sighed inwardly. She would never let her husband know this, but sometimes she did wonder whether a young Feegle might profitably be taught something like, well, accountancy. Something that didnae mean ye had to bounce off the walls, and didnae mean you had to fight all the time. But then, would he still be a Feegle?

  ‘I’m feared for the big wee hag, Rob,’ she said. ‘Something is wrong.’

  ‘She wanted to be a hag, lassie,’ said Rob. ‘Now she has to dree her weird, same as us. She is a bonny fighter, ye ken. She kissed the Lord of the Winter to his death and banged the Queen o’ the Elves with a frying pan. And I mind the time that invisible beastie got into her heid, and she wrestled it and sent it away. She fights.’

  ‘Oh, I ken that well enough,’ said the kelda. ‘She kissed the face o’ winter and made springtime come again. It was a great thing that she did, sure enough, but she had the mantle of the summer about her. It was that power she dealt to him, not just her own. She did it well, mind, I can think of none who would have done it better, but she must beware.’

  ‘What enemy can she have that we cannae face with her?’ Rob asked.

  ‘I cannae tell,’ said the kelda, ‘but in my heid, it seems like this. When she kissed the winter, it shook me to my roots; it seemed like it shook the world and I cannae but wonder that there might be those who stirred in their slumber. You mak’ certain, Rob Anybody, to keep more than one eye on her.’

  Chapter 4

  THE REAL SHILLING

  TIFFANY WOKE HUNGRY and to the sound of laughter. Amber was awake and, against all probability, happy.

  Tiffany found out why when she managed to squeeze most of herself into the tunnel that led to the mound. The girl was still lying curled up on one side, but a group of young Feegles were entertaining her with somersaults and handsprings and occasionally tripping one another up in humorous ways.

  The laughter was younger than Amber was; it sounded like the chuckle a baby makes when it sees shiny things in pretty colours. Tiffany did not know how the soothings worked, but they were better than anything a witch could do; they seemed to settle people down and make them better from inside their head outwards. They made you well and, best of all, they made you forget. Sometimes, it seemed to Tiffany, the kelda talked about them as if they were alive – living thoughts perhaps, or kindly living creatures that somehow took away the bad things.

  ‘She’s doing well,’ said the kelda, appearing out of nowhere. ‘She will bide fine. There will be nightmares as the darkness comes out. The soothings can’t do everything. She’s coming back into herself now, right from the start, and that’s the best thing.’

  It was still dark but dawn edged the horizon. Tiffany had a dirty job to do before daylight.

  ‘Can I leave her here with you for a little while?’ she said. ‘There’s a small task that needs doing.’

  I shouldn’t have gone to sleep, she thought as she climbed out of the pit. I should have gone right back! I shouldn’t have left the poor little thing there!

  She tugged the broomstick out of the thorn bushes around the mound, and stopped dead. Someone was watching her; she could feel it on the back of her neck. She turned sharply, and saw an old woman all in black, quite tall, but leaning on a walkingstick. Even as Tiffany looked, the woman vanished, slowly, as if evaporating into the scenery.

  ‘Mistress Weatherwax?’ Tiffany said to the empty air, but that was silly. Granny Weatherwax would not be seen dead with a walkingstick, and certainly wouldn’t be seen alive with one. And there was movement in the corner of her eye. When she spun round again there was a hare, right up on her9 hind legs, watching her with interest and no sign of fear.

  It was what they did, of course. The Feegles didn’t hunt them, and the average sheepdog would run out of legs before a hare ran out of breath. The hare had no stuffy burrow to be trapped in; speed was where a hare lived, shooting across the landscape like a dream of the wind – she could afford to sit and watch the slow world go by.

  This one burst into flames. She blazed for a moment and then, entirely unharmed, sped away in a blur.

  All right, thought Tiffany as the broomstick came free, let’s approach this from the point of view of common sense. The turf isn’t scorched and hares are not known for bursting into flames, so–She stopped as a tiny trapdoor flicked open in her memory.

  The hare runs into the fire.

  Had she seen that written down anywhere? Had she heard it as part of a song? A nursery rhyme? What had the hare got to do with anything? But she was a witch, after all, and there was a job to do. Mysterious omens could wait. Witches knew that mysterious omens were around all the time. The world was always very nearly drowning in mysterious omens. You just had to pick the one that was convenient.

  Bats and owls steered effortlessly out of Tiffany’s way as she sped over the sleeping village. The Petty house was on the very edge. It had a garden. Every house in the village had a garden. Most of them had a garden full of vegetables or, if the wife had the upper hand, half vegetables and half flowers. The Petty house was fronted by a quarter of an acre of stinging nettles.

  That had always annoyed Tiffany right down to her country boots. How hard would it have been to grub up the weeds and put in a decent crop of potatoes? All they needed was muck, and there was plenty of that in a farming village; the trick was to stop it getting into the house. Mr Petty could have made an effort.

  He had been back to the barn, or at least somebody had. The baby was now on top of the heap of straw. Tiffany had come prepared with some old, but still serviceable linen, which was at least better than sacking and straw. But somebody had disturbed the little body, and put flowers around it, except that the flowers were, in fact, stinging nettles. They had also lit a candle in one of the tin-plate candlesticks that every house in the village owned. A candlestick. A light. On a pile of loose straw. In a barn full of tinder-dry hay and more straw. Tiffany stared in horror, and then heard the grunt overhead. A man was hanging from the barn’s rafters.

  They creaked. A little dust and some shreds of hay floated down. Tiffany caught them quickly and picked up the candle before the next fall of wisps set the whole barn alight. She was about to blow it out when it struck her that this would leave her in the dark with the gently spinning figure that may or may not be a corpse. She put it down ever so carefully by the door and scrabbled around to find something sharp. But this was Petty’s barn, and everything was blunt, except a saw.

  It had to be him up there! Who else could it be? ‘Mr Petty?’ she said, clambering into the dusty rafters.

  There was something like a wheeze. Was this good?

  Tiffany managed to hook one leg round a beam, leaving one hand free to wield the saw. The trouble was that she needed two more hands. The rope was tight round the man’s neck, and the blunt teeth of the saw bounced on it, making the man swing even more. And he was beginning to struggle too, the fool, so that the rope not only swung, but twisted as well. In a moment, she would fall down.

  There was a movement in the air, a flash of iron, and Petty dropped like a rock. Tiffany managed to hold her balance long enough to grab a dusty rafter and half climb and half slither after him.

  Her fingernails clawed at the rope round his neck but it was as tight as a drum … and there should have been a flourish of music because suddenly Rob Anybody was there, right in front of her; he held up a tiny, shiny claymore and looked at her questioningly.

  She groaned inwardly. What good are you, Mr Petty? What good hav
e you been? You can’t even hang yourself properly. What good will you ever do? Wouldn’t I be doing the world and you a favour by letting you finish what you began?

  That was the thing about thoughts. They thought themselves, and then dropped into your head in the hope that you would think so too. You had to slap them down, thoughts like that; they would take a witch over if she let them. And then it would all break down, and nothing would be left but the cackling.

  She had heard it said that, before you could understand anybody, you needed to walk a mile in their shoes, which did not make a whole lot of sense because, probably after you had walked a mile in their shoes you would understand that they were chasing you and accusing you of the theft of a pair of shoes – although, of course, you could probably outrun them owing to their lack of footwear. But she understood what the proverb actually meant, and here was a man one breath away from death. She had no option, no option at all. She had to give him that breath, for the sake of a handful of nettles; something inside the wretched hulk had still managed to be good. It was a tiny spark, but it was there. And there was no argument.

  Hating herself deep down for being so soppy, she nodded at the Big Man of the Feegle clan. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Try not to hurt him too much.’

  The sword sparkled; and the cut was made with the delicacy of a surgeon, although the surgeon would have washed his hands first.

  The rope actually sprang out as the Feegle severed it, and shot away as though it was a serpent. Petty gasped air so hard that the candle flame by the door seemed to flatten for a moment.

  Tiffany got up off her knees and brushed herself down. ‘What did you come back for?’ she said. ‘What were you looking for? What did you expect to find?’

 

    Feet of Clay Read onlineFeet of ClayThe Color of Magic Read onlineThe Color of MagicThud! Read onlineThud!Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch Read onlineGood Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, WitchI Shall Wear Midnight Read onlineI Shall Wear MidnightMort Read onlineMortRaising Steam Read onlineRaising SteamGuards! Guards! Read onlineGuards! Guards!Equal Rites Read onlineEqual RitesA Hat Full of Sky Read onlineA Hat Full of SkyThe Light Fantastic Read onlineThe Light FantasticMrs Bradshaw's Handbook Read onlineMrs Bradshaw's HandbookWyrd Sisters Read onlineWyrd SistersSoul Music Read onlineSoul MusicSmall Gods Read onlineSmall GodsSourcery Read onlineSourceryReaper Man Read onlineReaper ManNight Watch Read onlineNight WatchLords and Ladies Read onlineLords and LadiesThe Fifth Elephant Read onlineThe Fifth ElephantMonstrous Regiment Read onlineMonstrous RegimentThe Truth Read onlineThe TruthWitches Abroad Read onlineWitches AbroadEric Read onlineEricGoing Postal Read onlineGoing PostalMen at Arms Read onlineMen at ArmsJingo Read onlineJingoThe Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents Read onlineThe Amazing Maurice and His Educated RodentsThe Wee Free Men Read onlineThe Wee Free MenPyramids Read onlinePyramidsWintersmith Read onlineWintersmithMoving Pictures Read onlineMoving PicturesCarpe Jugulum Read onlineCarpe JugulumInteresting Times Read onlineInteresting TimesMaskerade Read onlineMaskeradeMaking Money Read onlineMaking MoneyThe Shepherd's Crown Read onlineThe Shepherd's CrownHogfather Read onlineHogfatherTroll Bridge Read onlineTroll BridgeThe Last Continent Read onlineThe Last ContinentThe Sea and Little Fishes Read onlineThe Sea and Little FishesSnuff Read onlineSnuffUnseen Academicals Read onlineUnseen AcademicalsGuards! Guards! tds-8 Read onlineGuards! Guards! tds-8Jingo d-21 Read onlineJingo d-21Turtle Recall: The Discworld Companion ... So Far Read onlineTurtle Recall: The Discworld Companion ... So FarThe Fifth Elephant d-24 Read onlineThe Fifth Elephant d-24Discworld 39 - Snuff Read onlineDiscworld 39 - SnuffThe Long War Read onlineThe Long WarOnly You Can Save Mankind Read onlineOnly You Can Save MankindThe Science of Discworld III - Darwin's Watch tsod-3 Read onlineThe Science of Discworld III - Darwin's Watch tsod-3A Blink of the Screen: Collected Short Fiction Read onlineA Blink of the Screen: Collected Short FictionUnseen Academicals d-37 Read onlineUnseen Academicals d-37Wings Read onlineWingsMaking Money d-36 Read onlineMaking Money d-36A Blink of the Screen Read onlineA Blink of the ScreenJohnny and the Bomb Read onlineJohnny and the BombDodger Read onlineDodgerStrata Read onlineStrataDiscworld 02 - The Light Fantastic Read onlineDiscworld 02 - The Light FantasticThe Folklore of Discworld Read onlineThe Folklore of DiscworldThe Science of Discworld Read onlineThe Science of DiscworldThe Unadulterated Cat Read onlineThe Unadulterated CatRaising Steam: (Discworld novel 40) (Discworld Novels) Read onlineRaising Steam: (Discworld novel 40) (Discworld Novels)The World of Poo Read onlineThe World of PooDiscworld 05 - Sourcery Read onlineDiscworld 05 - SourceryThe Witch's Vacuum Cleaner: And Other Stories Read onlineThe Witch's Vacuum Cleaner: And Other StoriesThe Science of Discworld II - The Globe tsod-2 Read onlineThe Science of Discworld II - The Globe tsod-2Small Gods: Discworld Novel, A Read onlineSmall Gods: Discworld Novel, AMen at Arms tds-15 Read onlineMen at Arms tds-15Tama Princes of Mercury Read onlineTama Princes of MercuryThe Last Hero (the discworld series) Read onlineThe Last Hero (the discworld series)The Long Utopia Read onlineThe Long UtopiaDiscworld 03 - Equal Rites Read onlineDiscworld 03 - Equal RitesTerry Pratchett - The Science of Discworld Read onlineTerry Pratchett - The Science of DiscworldThe Long Earth Read onlineThe Long EarthThe Carpet People Read onlineThe Carpet PeopleThe Sea and Little Fishes (discworld) Read onlineThe Sea and Little Fishes (discworld)The Colour of Magic Read onlineThe Colour of MagicDiscworld 16 - Soul Music Read onlineDiscworld 16 - Soul MusicThe Long Cosmos Read onlineThe Long CosmosThe Dark Side of the Sun Read onlineThe Dark Side of the SunMonstrous Regiment tds-28 Read onlineMonstrous Regiment tds-28The Bromeliad 3 - Wings Read onlineThe Bromeliad 3 - WingsDragons at Crumbling Castle: And Other Stories Read onlineDragons at Crumbling Castle: And Other StoriesNight Watch tds-27 Read onlineNight Watch tds-27The Science of Discworld I tsod-1 Read onlineThe Science of Discworld I tsod-1The Bromeliad 1 - Truckers Read onlineThe Bromeliad 1 - TruckersThe Science of Discworld Revised Edition Read onlineThe Science of Discworld Revised EditionThe Abominable Snowman Read onlineThe Abominable SnowmanFather Christmas’s Fake Beard Read onlineFather Christmas’s Fake BeardThe Bromeliad Trilogy Read onlineThe Bromeliad TrilogyA Slip of the Keyboard Read onlineA Slip of the KeyboardThe Wee Free Men d(-2 Read onlineThe Wee Free Men d(-2Johnny and the Dead Read onlineJohnny and the DeadMrs Bradshaw's Handbook (Discworld Novels) Read onlineMrs Bradshaw's Handbook (Discworld Novels)Truckers Read onlineTruckersThe Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents d(-1 Read onlineThe Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents d(-1Diggers Read onlineDiggersThief of Time tds-26 Read onlineThief of Time tds-26Science of Discworld III Read onlineScience of Discworld IIIDragons at Crumbling Castle Read onlineDragons at Crumbling CastleNation Read onlineNationDarwin's Watch Read onlineDarwin's WatchInteresting Times d-17 Read onlineInteresting Times d-17The Bromeliad 2 - Diggers Read onlineThe Bromeliad 2 - DiggersThe Science of Discworld II Read onlineThe Science of Discworld II