The stones groaned.
‘Br. . . Nanny?’
,Yep?,
‘Can you talk to me a bit more as if I’m some kind of frightened idiot?’
‘Okay.’
‘Er . . . why do they say right as nine pence”? As opposed to, say, ten pence?’
‘Interestin’. Maybe it’s-‘
‘And can you speak up? Perdita’s shouting at me that if I drop eighteen inches I’ll be standing in the stream!’
‘Do you think she’s right?’
‘Not about the eighteen inches!’
The bridge creaked.
‘People seldom are,’ said Nanny. ‘Are you getting anywhere, dear? Only I can’t lift you up, you see. And my arms are going numb, too.’
‘I can’t reach the pillar!’
‘Then let go,’ said Magrat, from somewhere behind Nanny.
‘Magrat!’ snapped Nanny.
‘Well, perhaps it is only a little stream to Perdita. Gnarly ground can be two things at the same time, can’t it? So if that’s how she sees it . . . well, can’t you let her get on with it? Let her sort it out. Can’t you let her take over?’
‘She only does that when I’m really under stress! Shut up!’
‘I only-‘
‘Not you, her! Oh, no-‘
Her left hand, white and almost numb, pulled itself off the stone and out of Nanny’s grip.
‘Don’t let her do this to us!’ Agnes shrieked. ‘I’ll fall hundreds of feet on to sharp rocks!’
‘Yes, but since you’re going to do that anyway, anything’s worth a try, isn’t it?’ said Nanny. ‘I should shut your eyes, if I was you-‘
The right hand came loose.
Agnes shut her eyes. She fell.
Perdita opened her eyes. She was standing in the stream.
‘Damn!’ And Agnes would never say ‘damn’, which was why Perdita did so at every suitable occasion.
She reached up to the slab just above her, got a grip, and hauled herself up. Then, catching sight of Nanny Ogg’s expression, she jerked her hands around into a new position and kicked her legs up.
That stupid Agnes never realizes how strong she is, Perdita thought. There’s all these muscles she’s afraid of using . . .
She pushed gently until her toes pointed at the sky and she was doing a handstand on the edge. The effect, she felt, was spoilt by her skirt falling over her eyes.
‘You’ve still got that tear in yer knickers,’ said Nanny sharply.
Perdita flicked herself on to her feet.
Magrat had her eyes tight shut. ‘She didn’t do a handstand on the edge, did she?’
‘She did,’ said Nanny. ‘Now then, A- Perdita, stop that showing off, we’ve wasted too much time. Let Agnes have the body back, you know it’s hers really.’
Perdita did a cartwheel. ‘This body’s wasted on her,’ she said. ‘And you should see the stuff she eats! Do you know she’s still got two shelves full of soft toys? And dolls? And she wonders why she can’t get along with boys!’
‘Nothing like being stared at by a teddy bear to put a young man off his stroke,’ said Nanny Ogg. ‘Remember old Mrs Sleeves, Magrat? Used to need two of us when she had one of her nasty turns.’
‘What’s that got to do with toys?’ said Perdita suspiciously.
‘And what’s it- Oh, yes,’ said Magrat.
‘Now, I recall that old bell ringer down in Ohulan,’ said Nanny, leading the way. ‘He had no fewer than seven personalities in his head. Three of ’em were women and four of ’em were men. Poor old chap. He said he was always the odd one out. He said they let him get on with all the work and the breathin’ and eatin’ and they had all the fun. Remember? He said it was hellish when he had a drink and they all started fightin’ for a taste bud. Sometimes he couldn’t hear himself think in his own head, he said- Now! Now! Now!’
Agnes opened her eyes. Her jaw hurt.
Nanny Ogg was peering at her closely, while rubbing some feeling back into her wrist. From a couple of inches away her face looked like a friendly pile of elderly laundry.
‘Yes, that’s Agnes,’ she said, standing back. ‘Her face goes sharper when it’s the other one. See? I told you she’d be the one that came back. She’s got more practice.’
Magrat let go of her arms. Agnes rubbed her chin.
‘That hurt,’ she said reproachfully.
‘Just a bit of tough love,’ said Nanny. ‘Can’t have that Perdita running around at a time like this.’
‘You just sort of grabbed the bridge and came right back up,’ said Magrat.
‘I felt her stand on the ground!’ said Agnes.
‘And that too, then,’ said Nanny. ‘Come on. Not far now. Sometimes. And let’s just take it easy, shall we? Some of us might have further to fall than others.’
They edged forward, despite an increasingly insistent voice in Agnes’s head that kept telling her she was being a stupid coward and of course she wouldn’t be hurt. She tried to ignore it.
The caves that Agnes remembered hadn’t been much more than rock overhangs. These were caverns. The difference is basically one of rugged and poetic grandeur. These had a lot of both.
‘Gnarly ground’s a bit like icebergs,’ said Nanny, leading them up a little gully to one of the largest.
‘Nine-tenths of it is under water?’ said Agnes. Her chin still hurt.
‘There’s more to it than meets the eye, I mean.’
‘There’s someone there!’ said Magrat.
‘Oh, that’s the witch,’ said Nanny. ‘She’s not a problem.’
Light from the entrance fell on a hunched figure, sitting among pools of water. Closer to, it looked like a statue, and perhaps not quite as human as the eye at first suggested. Water glistened on it; drops formed on the end of the long hooked nose and fell into a pool with the occasional plink.
‘I come up here with a young wizard once, when I was a girl,’ said Nanny. ‘He liked nothing so much as bashing at rocks with his little
hammer . . . well, almost nothing,’ she added, with a smile towards the past and then a happy sigh. ‘He said the witch was just a lot of of stuff from the rocks, left there by the water drippin’. But my granny said it was a witch that sat up here to think about some big spell, and she turned to stone. Person’ly, I keep an open mind.’
‘It’s a long way to bring someone,’ said Agnes.
‘Oh, there was a lot of us kids at home and it was rainin’ a lot and you need a lot of privacy for really good geology,’ said Nanny vaguely. ‘I think his hammer’s still around here somewhere. He quite forgot about it after a while. Mind how you tread, the rocks is very slippery. How’s young Esme doing, Magrat?’
‘Oh, gurgling away. I’ll have to feed her soon.’
‘We’ve got to look after her,’ said Nanny.
‘Well, yes. Of course.’
Nanny clapped her hands together and pulled them apart gently. The glow between them wasn’t the showy light that wizards made, but a grainy graveyard glimmer. It was just enough to ensure that no one fell down a hole.
‘Probably some dwarfs in a place like this,’ said Magrat, as they picked their way along a tunnel.
‘Shouldn’t think so. They don’t like places that don’t stay the same. No one comes up here now but animals and Granny when she wants to be alone with her thoughts.’
‘And you when you were banging rocks,’ said Magrat.
‘Hah! But it was different then. There was flowers on the moor and the bridge was just stepping stones. That’s ‘cos I was in love.’
‘You mean it really does change because of the way you feel?’ said Agnes.
‘You spotted it. It’s amazing how high and rocky the bridge can be if you’re in a bad mood, I know that.’
‘I wonder how high it was for Granny, then?’
‘Probably clouds could go underneath, girl.’
Nanny stopped where the path forked, and then pointed.
‘I reckon she’s gone this way. Hold on-‘
She thrust out an arm. Stone groaned, and a slab of roof thudded down, throwing up spray and pebbles.
‘So we’ll just have to climb over this bit, then,’ Nanny went on, in the same matter-of-fact tone of voice.
‘Something’s trying to push us out,’ said Agnes.
‘But it won’t,’ said Nanny. ‘And I don’t think it’ll harm us.’
‘That was a big slab!’ said Agnes.
‘Yeah. But it missed us, didn’t it?’
There was an underground river further on, sheer white water blurred with speed. It poured around and almost over a dam of driftwood, topped by an inviting long log.
‘Look, this isn’t safe for the baby!’ said Agnes. ‘Do you both see that? You’re her mother, Magrat!’
‘Yes, I know, I was there,’ said Magrat, with infuriating calm. ‘But this doesn’t feel unsafe. Granny’s here somewhere.’
‘That’s right,’ said Nanny. ‘Really close now, I think.’