Witches Abroad (Discworld 12) - Page 7

'You've lost, Desiderata Hollow.'

'So it goes.' Desiderata got to her feet, a little unsteadily, and picked up a cloth.

The figure seemed to be getting angry. It clearly felt that people who had lost ought to look downcast, and not as if they were enjoying a joke at your expense.

'Don't you understand what losing means?'

'Some people are very clear about that,' said Desiderata. 'Goodbye, m'lady.' She hung the cloth over the mirror.

There was an angry intake of breath, and then silence.

Desiderata stood as if lost in thought.

Then she raised her head, and said: 'Kettle boiled just now. Would you like a cup of tea?'

No, THANK YOU, said a voice right behind her.

'How long have you been waiting?'

FOREVER.

'Not keeping you, am I?'

IT'S A QUIET NIGHT.

'I'm making a cup of tea. I think there's one biscuit left.'

NO, THANK YOU.

'If you feel peckish, it's in the jar on the mantelpiece. That's genuine Klatchian pottery, you know. Made by a genuine Klatchian craftsman. From Klatch,' she added.

INDEED?

'I used to get about a lot in my younger days.'

YES?

'Great times.' Desiderata poked the fire. 'It was the job, you see. Of course, I expect it's very much the same for you.'

YES.

'I never knew when I was going to be called out. Well, of course you'd know about that, wouldn't you. Kitchens, mainly. It always seemed to be kitchens. Balls sometimes, but generally it was kitchens.' She picked up the kettle and poured the boiling water into the teapot on the hearth.

INDEED.

'I used to grant their wishes.'

Death looked puzzled.

WHAT? You MEAN LIKE . . . FITTED CUPBOARDS? NEW SINKS? THAT KIND OF THING?

'No, no. The people.' Desiderata sighed. 'It's a big responsibility, fairy godmothering. Knowing when to stop, I mean. People whose wishes get granted often don't turn out to be very nice people. So should you give them what they want - or what they need?'

Death nodded politely. From his point of view, people got what they were given.

'Like this Genua thing - ' Desiderata began.

Death looked up sharply.

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
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