Maskerade Read Online Free PDF

really. But the others were weird, lying crosswise on the world instead of nicely parallel to it like everyone else…old Mother Dismass who could see into the past and the future but was totally blind in the present, and Millie Hopwood over in Slice, who stuttered and had runny ears, and as for Granny Weatherwax…
    Oh, yes. Finest job in the world? Being a sour old woman with no friends?
    They were always looking for weird people like themselves.
    Well, they could look in vain for Agnes Nitt.
    Fed up with living in Lancre, and fed up with the witches, and above all fed up with being Agnes Nitt, she’d…escaped.

    Nanny Ogg didn’t look built for running, but she covered the ground deceptively fast, her great heavy boots kicking up shoals of leaves.
    There was a trumpeting overhead. Another skein of geese passed across the sky, so fast in pursuit of the summer that their wings were hardly moving in the ballistic rush.
    Granny Weatherwax’s cottage looked deserted. It had, Nanny felt, a particularly empty feel.
    She scurried around to the back door and burst through, pounded up the stairs, saw the gaunt figure on the bed, reached an instant conclusion, grabbed the pitcher of water from its place on the marble washstand, ran forward…
    A hand shot up and grabbed her wrist.
    “I was having a nap ,” said Granny, opening her eyes. “Gytha, I swear I could feel you comin’ half a mile away—”
    “We got to make a cup of tea quick!” gasped Nanny, almost sagging with relief.
    Granny Weatherwax was more than bright enough not to ask questions.
    But you couldn’t hurry a good cup of tea. Nanny Ogg jiggled from one foot to the other while the fire was pumped up, the small frogs fished out of the water bucket, the water boiled, the dried leaves allowed to seep.
    “I ain’t saying nothing,” said Nanny, sitting down at last. “Just pour a cup, that’s all.”
    On the whole, witches despised fortune-telling from tea-leaves. Tea leaves are not uniquely fortunate in knowing what the future holds. They are really just something for the eyes to rest on while the mind does the work. Practically anything would do. The scum on a puddle, the skin on a custard…anything. Nanny Ogg could see the future in the froth on a beer mug. It invariably showed that she was going to enjoy a refreshing drink which she almost certainly was not going to pay for.
    “You recall young Agnes Nitt?” said Nanny as Granny Weatherwax tried to find the milk.
    Granny hesitated.
    “Agnes who calls herself Perditax?”
    “Perdita X,” said Nanny. She at least respected anyone’s right to recreate themselves.
    Granny shrugged. “Fat girl. Big hair. Walks with her feet turned out. Sings to herself in the woods. Good voice. Reads books. Says ‘poot!’ instead of swearing. Blushes when anyone looks at her. Wears black lace gloves with the fingers cut out.”
    “You remember we once talked about maybe how possibly she might be…suitable.”
    “Oh, there’s a twist in the soul there, you’re right,” said Granny. “But…it’s an unfortunate name.”
    “Her father’s name was Terminal,” said Nanny Ogg reflectively. “There were three sons: Primal, Medial and Terminal. I’m afraid the family’s always had a problem with education.”
    “I meant Agnes,” said Granny. “Always puts me in mind of carpet fluff, that name.”
    “Prob’ly that’s why she called herself Perdita,” said Nanny.
    “Worse.”
    “Got her fixed in your mind?” said Nanny.
    “Yes, I suppose so.”
    “Good. Now look at them tea leaves.”
    Granny looked down.
    There was no particular drama, perhaps because of the way Nanny had built up expectations. But Granny did hiss between her teeth.
    “Well, now. There’s a thing,” she said.
    “See it? See it?”
    “Yep.”
    “Like…a skull?”
    “Yep.”
    “And them eyes? I nearly pi—I was pretty damn surprised by them eyes, I can tell you.”
    Granny carefully replaced the cup.
    “Her mam showed me her