Equal Rites

“Not bad, not bad,” she amended hurriedly. “The council have tried to run me out once or twice, you know, but they all have wives and somehow it never quite happens. They say I’m not the right sort, but I say there’d be many a family in this town a good deal bigger and poorer if it wasn’t for Madame Goatfounder’s Pennyroyal Preventives. I know who comes into my shop, I do. I remember who buys buckeroo drops and ShoNuff Ointment, I do. Life isn’t bad. And how is it up in your village with the funny name?”

“Bad Ass,” said Esk helpfully. She picked a small clay pot off the counter and sniffed at its contents.

“It is well enough,” conceded Granny. “The handmaidens of nature are ever in demand.”

Esk sniffed again at the powder, which seemed to be pennyroyal with a base she couldn’t quite identify, and carefully replaced the lid. While the two women exchanged gossip in a kind of feminine code, full of eye contact and unspoken adjectives, she examined the other exotic potions on display. Or rather, not on display. In some strange way they appeared to be artfully half-hidden, as if Hilts wasn’t entirely keen to sell.

“I don’t recognise any of these,” she said, half to herself. “What do they give to people?”

“Freedom,” said Hilts, who had good hearing. She turned back to Granny. “How much have you taught her?”

“Not that much,” said Granny. “There’s power there, but what kind I’m not sure. Wizard power, it might be.”

Hilts turned around very slowly and looked Esk up and down.

“Ah,” she said, “That explains the staff. I wondered what the bees were talking about. Well, well. Give me your hand, child.”

Esk held out her hand. Hilta’s fingers were so heavy with rings it was like dipping into a sack of walnuts.

Granny sat upright, radiating disapproval, as Hilts began to inspect Esk’s palm.

“I really don’t think that is necessary,” she said sternly. “Not between us.”

“You do it, Granny,” said Esk, “in the village. I’ve seen you. And teacups. And cards.”

Granny shifted uneasily. “Yes, well,” she said. “It’s all according. You just hold their hand and people do their own fortune-telling. But there’s no need to go around believing it, we’d all be in trouble if we went around believing everything.”

“The Powers That Be have many strange qualities, and puzzling and varied are the ways in which they make their desires known in this circle of firelight we call the physical world,” said Hilts solemnly. She winked at Esk.

“Well, really,” snapped Granny.

“No, straight up,” said Hilts. “It’s true.”

“Hmph.”

“I see you going upon a long journey,” said Hilts.

“Will I meet a tall dark stranger?” said Esk, examining her palm. “Granny always says that to women, she says—”

“No,” said Hilts, while Granny snorted. “But it will be a very strange journey. You’ll go a long way while staying in the same place. And the direction will be a strange one. It will be an exploration.”

“You can tell all that from my hand?”

“Well, mainly I’m just guessing,” said Hilts, sitting back and reaching for the teapot (the lead drummer, who had climbed halfway back, fell on to the toiling cymbalists). She looked carefully at Esk and added, “A female wizard, eh?”

“Granny is taking me to Unseen University,” said Esk.

Hilta raised her eyebrows. “Do you know where it is?”

Granny frowned. “Not in so many words,” she admitted. “I was hoping you could give me more explicit directions, you being more familiar with bricks and things.”

“They say it has many doors, but the ones in this world are in the city of Ankh-Morpork,” said Hilta. Granny looked blank. “On the Circle Sea,” Hilta added. Granny’s look of polite enquiry persisted. “Five hundred miles away,” said Hilta.

“Oh,” said Granny.

She stood up and brushed an imaginary speck of dust off her dress.

“We’d better be going, then,” she added.

Hilta laughed. Esk quite liked the sound. Granny never laughed, she merely let the corners of her mouth turn up, but Hilta laughed like someone who had thought hard about Life and had seen the joke.

“Start tomorrow, anyway,” she said. “I’ve got room at home, you can stay with me, and tomorrow you’ll have the light.”

“We wouldn’t want to presume,” said Granny.

“Nonsense. Why not have a look around while I pack up the stall?”

Ohulan was the market town for a wide sprawling countryside and the market day didn’t end at sunset. Instead, torches flared at every booth and stall and light blared forth from the open doorways of the inns. Even the temples put out coloured lamps to attract nocturnal worshippers.

Hilta moved through the crowd like a slim snake through dry grass, her entire stall and stock reduced to a surprisingly small bundle on her back, and her jewellery rattling like a sackful of flamenco dancers. Granny stumped along behind her, her feet aching from the unaccustomed prodding of the cobbles.

And Esk got lost.