Wintersmith by Terry Pratchett Read Free Book Online Page A

she said. “Come along, now!”
    There was a tiny, tiny pause before Rob Anybody said happily, “Oh, weel, that’s easy. We wuz huntin’ the haggis.”
    “No, you weren’t,” said Miss Treason sharply, “because a haggis is a pudding of sheep’s offal and meat, well spiced and cooked in a sheep’s stomach.”
    “Ah, that is only when ye canna find the real thing, mistress,” said Rob Anybody carefully. “’Tis no’ a patch on the real thing. Oh, a canny beast is the haggis, which makes its burrows in tattie cellars….”
    “And that’s the truth? You were hunting the haggis? Is it, Daft Wullie?” said Miss Treason, her voice suddenly sharp. All eyes, including a pair belonging to an earwig, turned to the luckless Wullie.
    “Er…aye…oooh…aarg…waily, waily, waily!” moaned Daft Wullie, and dropped to his knees. “Please dinna do somethin’ horrible tae me, mistress!” he begged. “Yon earwiggy is givin’ me a dreadful look!”
    “Very well, we shall start again,” said Miss Treason. She reached up and tore off her blindfold. The Feegles stepped back as she touched the skulls on either side of her.
    “I do not need eyes to smell a lie when it comes calling,” she said. “Tell me why you are here. Tell me…again.”
    Rob Anybody hesitated for a moment. This was, in the circumstances, very brave of him. Then he said: “’Tis aboot the big wee hag, mistress, we came.”
    “The big wee—Oh, you mean Tiffany?”
    “Aye!”
    “We is under one o’ them big birds,” said Daft Wullie, keeping his eyes averted from the witch’s blind stare.
    “He means a geas, mistress,” said Rob Anybody, glaring at his brother. “It’s like a—”
    “—a tremendous obligation that you cannot disobey,” said Miss Treason. “I ken what a geas is. But why?”
    Miss Treason had heard a lot of things in 113 years, but now she listened in astonishment to a story about a human girl who had, for a few days at least, been the kelda of a clan of Nac Mac Feegles. And if you were their kelda, even for a few days, they’d watch over you…forever.
    “An’ she’s the hag o’ our hills,” said Billy Bigchin. “She cares for them, keeps them safe. But…”
    He hesitated, and Rob Anybody continued: “Our kelda is havin’ dreams. Dreams o’ the future. Dreams o’ the hills all froze an’ everyone deid an’ the big wee hag wearin’ a crown o’ ice!”
    “My goodness!”
    “Aye, an’ there wuz more!” said Billy, throwing out his arms. “She saw a green tree growin’ in a land o’ ice! She saw a ring o’ iron! She saw a man with a nail in his heart! She saw a plague o’ chickens an’ a cheese that walks like a man!”
    There was silence, and then Miss Treason said: “The first two, the tree and the ring, no problem there, good occult symbolism. The nail, too, very metaphorical. I’m a bit doubtful about the cheese—could she mean Horace?—and the chickens…I’m not sure you can have a plague of chickens, can you?”
    “Jeannie wuz verra firm about them,” said Rob Anybody. “She’s dreamed many strange and worryin’ things, so we thought we might just see how the big wee hag wuz gettin’ along.”
    Miss Treason’s various eyes stared at him. Rob Anybody stared back with an expression of ferocious honesty, and did not flinch.
    “This seems an honorable enterprise,” she said. “Why start by lying?”
    “Oh, the lie wuz goin’ tae be a lot more interestin’,” said Rob Anybody.
    “The truth of the matter seems quite interesting to me ,” said Miss Treason.
    “Mebbe, but I wuz plannin’ on puttin’ in giants an’ pirates an’ magic weasels,” Rob declared. “Real value for the money!”
    “Oh well,” said Miss Treason. “When Miss Tick brought Tiffany to me, she did say she was guarded by strange powers.”
    “Aye,” said Rob Anybody proudly. “That’d be us, right enough.”
    “But Miss Tick is a rather bossy woman,” said Miss Treason. “I am sorry to say