And I’m not crying now, she thought, carefully putting the label in her apron pocket. Not for Granny being dead….

It was the smell. Granny Aching smelled of sheep, turpentine, and Jolly Sailor tobacco. The three smells mixed together and become one smell, which was, to Tiffany, the smell of the Chalk. It followed Granny Aching like a cloud, and it meant warmth, and silence, and a space around which the whole world revolved….

A shadow passed overhead. A buzzard was diving down from the sky toward the Nac Mac Feegle.

She leaped up and waved her arms. “Run away! Duck! It’ll kill you!”

They turned and looked at her for a moment as though she’d gone mad.

“Dinna fash yersel’, mistress,” said Rob Anybody.

The bird curved up at the bottom of its dive, and as it climbed again a dot dropped from it. As it fell, it seemed to grow two wings and started to spin like a sycamore leaf, which slowed down the fall somewhat.

It was a pictsie, still spinning madly when he hit the turf a few feet away, where he fell over. He got up, swearing loudly, and fell over again. The swearing continued.

“A good landin’, Hamish,” said Rob Anybody. “The spinnin’ certainly slows ye doon. Ye didna drill right into the ground this time hardly at a’.”

Hamish got up more slowly this time and managed to stay upright. He had a pair of goggles over his eyes.

“I dinna think I can tak’ much more o’ this,” he said, trying to untie a couple of thin bits of wood from his arms. “I feel like a fairy wi’ the wings on.”

“How can you survive that?” Tiffany asked.

The very small pilot tried to look her up and down, but only managed to look her up and farther up.

“Who’s the wee bigjob who knows sich a lot aboot aviation?” he said.

Rob Anybody coughed. “She’s the hag, Hamish. Spawn o’ Granny Aching.”

Hamish’s expression changed to a look of terror. “I didna mean to speak out o’ turn, mistress,” he said, backing away. “O’ course, a hag’d have the knowing of anythin’. But ’tis nae as bad as it looks, mistress. I allus make sure I lands on my heid.”

“Aye, we’re very resilient in the heid department,” said Rob Anybody.

“Have you seen a woman with a small boy?” Tiffany demanded. She hadn’t much liked being called “spawn.”

Hamish gave Rob Anybody a panicky look, and Rob nodded.

“Aye, I did,” said Hamish. “Onna black horse. Riding up from the lowlan’s goin’ hell for—”

“We dinna use bad language in front o’ a hag!” Rob Anybody thundered.

“Begging your pardon, mistress. She was ridin’ heck for leather,” said Hamish, looking more sheepish than the sheep. “But she kenned I was spyin’ her and called up a mist. She’s gone to the other side, but I dinna ken where.”

“’Tis a perilous place, the other side,” said Rob Anybody slowly. “Evil things there. A cold place. Not a place to tak’ a wee babbie.”

It was hot on the downs, but Tiffany felt a chill. However bad it is, she thought, I’m going to have to go there. I know it. I don’t have a choice.

“The other side?” she said.

“Aye. The magic world,” said Rob Anybody. “There’s…bad things there.”

“Monsters?” said Tiffany.

“As bad as ye can think of,” said Rob Anybody. “Exactly as bad as ye can think of.”

Tiffany swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “Worse than Jenny? Worse than the headless horseman?” she said.

“Oh, aye. They were wee pussycats compared to the scunners over there. ’Tis an ill-fared country that’s come callin’, mistress. ’Tis a land where dreams come true. That’s the Quin’s world.”

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net