She wished her mind was working faster. She couldn't think properly. Her head felt full of fog.
This... wasn't a real place. No, that wasn't the right way of thinking about it. It wasn't a usual place. It might be more real than Lancre. Across it her shadow stretched, waiting...
She glanced up at the tall, silent figure beside her.
GOOD EVENING.
'Oh... you again.'
ANOTHER CHOICE, ESMERELDA WEATHERWAX.
'Light and dark? It's never as simple as that, you know, even for you.'
Death sighed. NOT EVEN FOR ME.
Granny tried to line up her thoughts.
Which light and which dark? She hadn't been prepared for this. This didn't feel right. This wasn't the fight she had expected. Whose light? Whose mind was this?
Silly question. She was always her.
Never lose your grip on that...
So... light behind her, darkness in front...
She'd always said witches stood between the light and the dark.
'Am I dyin'?'
YES.
'Will I die?'
YES.
Granny thought this over.
'But from your point of view, everyone is dying and everyone will die, right?'
YES.
'So you aren't actually bein' a lot of help, strictly speakin'.'
I'M SORRY, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED THE TRUTH. PERHAPS YOU WERE EXPECTING JELLY AND ICE CREAM?
'Hah...'
There was no movement in the air, no sound but her own breathing. Just the brilliant white light on one side, and the heavy darkness on the other... waiting.
Granny had listened to people who'd nearly died but had come back, possibly because of a deft thump in the right place or the dislodging of some wayward mouthful that'd gone down the wrong way. Sometimes they talked about seeing a light
That's where she ought to go, a thought told her. But... was the light the way in, or the way out?
Death snapped his fingers.
An image appeared on the sand in front of them. She saw herself, kneeling in front of the anvil. She admired the dramatic effect. She'd always had a streak of theatrics, although she'd never admit it, and she appreciated in a disembodied way the strength with which she had thrust her pain into the iron. Someone had slightly spoiled the effect by putting a kettle on one end.
Death reached down and took a handful of sand. He held it up, and let it slip between his fingers.