Witches Abroad Read Online Free PDF Page B

protracted and persistent. No normal sheet of paper could possibly trace their family tree, which in any case was more like a mangrove thicket. And every single branch had a low-key, chronic vendetta against every other branch, based on such well-established causes célèbres as What Their Kevin Said About Our Stan At Cousin Di’s Wedding and Who Got The Silver Cutlery That Auntie Em Promised Our Doreen Was To Have After She Died, I’d Like To Know, Thank You Very Much, If You Don’t Mind.
    Nanny Ogg, as undisputed matriarch, encouraged all sides indiscriminately. It was the nearest thing she had to a hobby.
    The Oggs contained, in just one family, enough feuds to keep an entire Ozark of normal hillbillies going for a century.
    And sometimes this encouraged a foolish outsider to join in and perhaps make an uncomplimentary remark about one Ogg to another Ogg. Whereupon every single Ogg would turn on him, every part of the family closing up together like the parts of a well-oiled, blue-steeled engine to deal instant merciless destruction to the interloper.
    Ramtop people believed that the Ogg feud was a blessing. The thought of them turning their immense energy on the world in general was a terrible one. Fortunately, there was no one an Ogg would rather fight than another Ogg. It was family .
    Odd things, families, when you came to think of it…
    “Esme? You all right?”
    “What?”
    “You’ve got them cups rattling like nobody’s business! And tea all over the tray.”
    Granny looked down blankly at the mess, and rallied as best she could.
    “Not my damn fault if the damn cups are too small,” she muttered.
    The door opened.
    “Morning, Magrat,” she added, without looking around. “What’re you doing here?”
    It was something about the way the hinges creaked. Magrat could even open a door apologetically.
    The younger witch sidled speechlessly into the room, face beetroot red, arms held behind her back.
    “We’d just popped in to sort out Desiderata’s things, as our duty to a sister witch,” said Granny loudly.
    “And not to look for her magic wand,” said Nanny.
    “Gytha Ogg!”
    Nanny Ogg looked momentarily guilty, and then hung her head.
    “Sorry, Esme.”
    Magrat brought her arms around in front of her.
    “Er,” she said, and blushed further.
    “You found it!” said Nanny.
    “Uh, no,” said Magrat, not daring to look Granny in the eyes. “Desiderata gave it to…me.”
    The silence crackled and hummed.
    “ She gave it to you ?” said Granny Weatherwax.
    “Uh. Yes.”
    Nanny and Granny looked at one another.
    “Well!” said Nanny.
    “She does know you, doesn’t she?” demanded Granny, turning back to Magrat.
    “I used to come over here quite often to look at her books,” Magrat confessed. “And…and she liked to cook foreign food and no one else around here would eat it, so I’d come up to keep her company.”
    “Ah- ha ! Curryin’ favor!” snapped Granny.
    “But I never thought she’d leave me the wand,” said Magrat. “Really I didn’t!”
    “There’s probably some mistake,” said Nanny Ogg kindly. “She probably wanted you to give it to one of us.”
    “That’ll be it, right enough,” said Granny. “She knew you were good at running errands and so on. Let’s have a look at it.”
    She held out her hand.
    Magrat’s knuckles tightened on the wand.
    “…she gave it me…” she said, in a tiny voice.
    “Her mind was definitely wandering toward the end,” said Granny.
    “…she gave it me…”
    “Fairy godmotherin’s a terrible responsibility,” said Nanny. “You got to be resourceful and flexible and tactful and able to deal with complicated affairs of the heart and stuff. Desiderata would have known that.”
    “…yes, but she gave it me…”
    “Magrat Garlick, as senior witch I command you to give me the wand,” said Granny. “They cause nothing but trouble!”
    “Hold on, hold on,” said Nanny. “That’s going a bit