“What's going on?” said Smith. “Where's Gulta? What's this pig doing here?”

“This pig”, said Granny Weatherwax, “is your son.”

There was a sigh from Esk's mother as she collapsed gently backwards, but Smith was slightly less unprepared. He looked sharply from Gulta, who had managed to untangle himself from his clothing and was now rooting enthusiastically among the early windfalls, to his only daughter.

“She did this?”

“Yes. Or it was done through her,” said Granny, looking suspiciously at the staff.

“Oh.” Smith looked at his fifth son. He had to admit that the shape suited him. He reached out without looking and fetched the screaming Cern a thump on the back of his head.

“Can you turn him back again?” he asked. Granny spun around and glared the question at Esk, who shrugged.

“He didn't believe I could do magic,” she said calmly.

“Yes, well, I think you've made the point,” said Granny. “And now you will turn him back, madam. This instant. Do you hear?”

“Don't want to. He was rude.”

“I see.”

Esk gazed down defiantly. Granny glared up sternly. Their wills clanged like cymbals and the air between them thickened. But Granny had spent a lifetime bending recalcitrant creatures to her bidding and, while Esk was a surprisingly strong opponent, it was obvious that she would give in before the end of the paragraph.

“Oh, all right,” she whined. “I don't know why anyone would bother turning him into a pig when he was doing such a good job of it all by himself.”

She didn't know where the magic had come from, but she mentally faced that way and made a suggestion. Gulta reappeared, naked, with an apple in his mouth.

“Awts aughtning?” he said.

Granny spun around on Smith.

“Now will you believe me?” she snapped. “Do you really think she's supposed to settle down here and forget all about magic? Can you imagine her poor husband if she marries?”

“But you always said it was impossible for women to be wizards,” said Smith. He was actually rather impressed. Granny Weatherwax had never been known to turn anyone into anything.

“Never mind that now,” said Granny, calming down a bit. “She needs training. She needs to know how to control. For pity's sake put some clothes on that child.”

“Gulta, get dressed and stop grizzling,” said his father, and turned back to Granny.

“You said there was some sort of teaching place?” he hazarded.

“The Unseen University, yes. It's for training wizards.”

“And you know where it is?”

“Yes,” lied Granny, whose grasp of geography was slightly worse than her knowledge of sub-atomic physics.

Smith looked from her to his daughter, who was sulking.

“And they'll make a wizard of her?” he said.

Granny sighed.

“I don't know what they'll make of her,” she said.

And so it was that, a week later, Granny locked the cottage door and hung the key on its nail in the privy. The goats had been sent to stay with a sister witch further along the hills, who had also promised to keep an Eye on the cottage. Bad Ass would just have to manage without a witch for a while.

Granny was vaguely aware that you didn't find the Unseen University unless it wanted you to, and the only place to start looking was the town of Ohulan Cutash, a sprawl of a hundred or so houses about fifteen miles away. It was where you went to once or twice a year if you were a really cosmopolitan Bad Assian: Granny had only been once before in her entire life and hadn't approved of it at all. It had smelt all wrong, she'd got lost, and she distrusted city folk with their flashy ways.

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net