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brow crinkled.
 Yes, it s mine, he said, determined to regain the initiative.  And what are
you doing on it, I would like to know? Running away from home, yesno? If you
were a boy I d say are you going to seek your fortune?
 Can t girls seek their fortune?
 I think they re supposed to seek a boy with a fortune, said the man, and gave
a Zoo-carat grin. He extended a brown hand, heavy with rings.  Come and have
some breakfast.
 I d actually like to use your privy, she said. His mouth dropped open.
 This is a barge, yesno?
 Yes?
 That means there s only the river. He patted her hand.  Don t worry, he
added.  It s quite used to it.
Granny stood on the wharf, her boot tap-tap-tapping on the wood. The little
man who was the nearest thing Ohulan had to a dockmaster was being treated to
the full force of one of her stares, and was visibly wilting. Her expression wasn t
perhaps as vicious as thumbscrews, but it did seem to suggest that thumbscrews
were a real possibility.
 They left before dawn, you say, she said.
 Yes-ss, he said.  Er. I didn t know they weren t supposed to.
 Did you see a little girl on board? Tap-tap went her boot.
 Um. No. I m sorry. He brightened.  They were Zoons, he said;  If the
child was with them she won t come to harm. You can always trust a Zoon, they
say. Very keen on family life.
Granny turned to Hilta, who was fluttering like a bewildered butterfly, and
raised her eyebrows.
 Oh, yes, Hilta trilled.  The Zoons have a very good name.
 Mmph, said Granny. She turned on her heel and stumped back towards the
centre of the town. The dockmaster sagged as though a coathanger had just been
removed from his shirt.
Hilta s lodgings were over a herbalist s and behind a tannery, and offered
66
splendid views of the rooftops of Ohulan. She liked it because it offered pri-
vacy, always appreciated by, as she put it,  my more discerning clients who prefer
to make their very special purchases in an atmosphere of calm where discretion is
forever the watchword .
Granny Weatherwax looked around the sitting room with barelyconcealed
scorn. There were altogether too many tassels, bead curtains, astrological charts
and black cats in the place. Granny couldn t abide cats. She sniffed.
 Is that the tannery? she said accusingly.
 Incense, said Hilta. She rallied bravely in the face of Granny s scorn.  The
customers appreciate it, she said.  It puts them in the right frame of mind. You
know how it is.
 I would have thought one could carry out a perfectly respectable business,
Hilta, without resorting to parlour tricks, said Granny, sitting down and beginning
the long and tricky business of removing her hatpins.
 It s different in towns, said Hilta.  One has to move with the times.
 I m sure I don t know why. Is the kettle on? Granny reached across the table
and took the velvet cover off Hilta s crystal ball, a sphere of quartz as big as her
head.
 Never could get the hang of this damn silicon stuff, she said.  A bowl of
water with a drop of ink in it was good enough when I was a girl. Let s see,
now. . . 
She peered into the dancing heart of the ball, trying to use it to focus her mind
on the whereabouts of Esk. A crystal was a tricky thing to use at the best of times,
and usually staring into it meant that the one thing the future could be guaranteed
to hold was a severe migraine. Granny distrusted them, considering them to smack
of wizardry; for two pins, it always seemed to her, the wretched thing would suck
your mind out like a whelk from a shell.
 Damn thing s all sparkly, she said, huffing on it and wiping it with her sleeve.
Hilta peered over her shoulder.
 That s not sparkle, that means something, she said slowly.
 What?
 I m not sure. Can I try? It s used to me. Hilta pushed a cat off the other chair
and leaned forward to peer into the glass depths.
 Mnph. Feel free, said Granny,  but you won t find  
 Wait. Something s coming through.
 Looks all sparkly from here, Granny insisted.  Little silver lights all floating
around, like in them little snowstorm-in-abottle toys. Quite pretty, really.
 Yes, but look beyond the flakes. . . 
Granny looked.
This was what she saw.
67
The viewpoint was very high up and a wide swathe of country lay below her,
blue with distance, through which a broad river wriggled like a drunken snake.
There were silver lights floating in the foreground but they were, in a manner of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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