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    Equal Rites
    Equal Rites
    Equal Rites
    Ebook263 pages4 hours

    Equal Rites

    By Terry Pratchett

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    "Unadulterated fun. . . witty, frequently hilarious." —San Francisco Chronicle

    The third novel in New York Times bestselling author Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, a fantasy universe where anything can happen—and usually does.

    A dying wizard tries to pass his staff on to the eighth son of an eighth son. When it is revealed that the he is a girl named Esk, the news of the female wizard sends the citizens of Discworld into a tail-spin.

    With their biting satire and limitless imagination, it is easy to understand why 80 million Discworld books have been sold worldwide. Equal Rites possesses rich characterizations, a journey of awareness, and even a hint of romance from master storyteller Terry Pratchett.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateOct 13, 2009
    ISBN9780061804830
    Equal Rites
    Author

    Terry Pratchett

    Terry Pratchett (1948–2015) was the acclaimed creator of the globally revered Discworld series. In all, he authored more than fifty bestselling books, which have sold more than one hundred million copies worldwide. His novels have been widely adapted for stage and screen, and he was the winner of multiple prizes, including the Carnegie Medal. He was awarded a knighthood by Queen Elizabeth II for his services to literature in 2009, although he always wryly maintained that his greatest service to literature was to avoid writing any.

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    Reviews for Equal Rites

    4.5/5

    188 ratings69 reviews

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    • 3/5
      Book is good, Scribd's ebook format skipped from p 60 to p 125, though.
    • 5/5
      Sharp witted and extremely entertaining. Girls can have magic too.
    • 5/5
      3 Discworld stories down and I'm still in love with Terry. This book would make a GREAT movie!
    • 5/5
      Terry Pratchett is an international treasure. Definitely read this. It's hilarious and thought provoking and just plain fun.
    • 3/5
      Funny stuff! Wizards and witches and feminism and silliness. I like this so much more than The Color of Magic. It's not as great as his Tiffany Aching books, though. Says me.
    • 4/5
      Devouring these. Very comforting read-- like a bed time story.
    • 4/5
      Read from January 12 to 15, 2011Backstory - While my first Terry Pratchett was Good Omens - a joint venture with Neil Gaiman, I've heard great things about Discworld and wanted to take a peak inside. There are dozens of books in the series and there's no need to read the books in order. In fact, there are several sites that offer recommendations for reading order - chronological by publication or based on storyline. While the Watch novels are considered "the best" by some on the Interwebz, I decided to read the Witches novels (you see...none of my local libraries had a copy of the first Watch novel - Guards! Guards!). You can find the reading guide and such on my blog...it's a little too image-y for a review here).Equal Rites - Cute and humorous story about the asinine reasons people give for girls not being able to do things that boys can do. You know, "just because", "that's just not the way things work", "the lore says", "it goes against nature". I hope Esk and Granny are in more Discworld books (I'm sure there's a Discworld wiki somewhere that'll let me know).
    • 4/5
      Uh-oh. I might be losin' that Discworld Feeling. *opening strains of The Righteous Brothers' You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling start to play*

      Kat:
      There's Granny Weatherwax to remind me of wizard Rincewind.
      And little Eskarine could be a kin of Two Flowers.
      I'm trying hard not to show it, Terry.
      But Terry, Terry, I know it...

      Toga-Wearing-Chorus:
      Has Kat lost that Discworld feeling?
      Whoa, that Discworld feeling.
      Has Kat lost that Discworld feeling?
      Could it be gone...gone...gone?...Oh-oh-oh-No.

      Kat:
      Now there's a Staff of wood to replace the missing Luggage.
      And now the jokes do seem very few and far between.
      It makes me just feel like crying, Terry.
      'Cause Terry, something in me is dying.

      Toga-Wearing-Chorus:
      Bring back that Discworld feeling!
      Whoa, that Discworld feeling
      Kat wants that Discworld feeling!
      Is it gone...gone...gone?...Oh-oh-oh-No.

      Net score: 3 stars for the story 1 bonus star for Granny Weatherwax (Look forward to seeing more of her) = 4 stars
    • 3/5
      Cute! Not going to change my life or anything, but a good read for a day at home with a cold.
      Still, I always feel a little bit like Terry Pratchett is trying too hard.
    • 3/5
      I keep wavering between 3 and 4 stars. The story was interesting and the puns amusing, it was a good book, but I just can't bring myself to say that I "really liked it" (as if giving it three stars was not really liking it but only feigning to like it). Perhaps some of the problem was that the narrator (I listened to this on audiobook) has a lovely voice but is not terribly good at doing character voices, so I spent a lot of time picturing old men as young boys wearing too-big-robes and fake beards.

      I liked it enough to move on to the next book, which I think is the most important thing I have to say about it.
    • 4/5
       "This takes the issue of sex and looks at it from a completely different angle.



      A wizard who is about to die can pass his staff to a sucessor, typically the eighth son of an eighth son. Unfortunately for this wizard, the eighth son turns out to be a girl and all sorts of trouble follows. So why can't a woman be a wizard (apart from the issue of plumbing, of course)? It is written in the lore and there is a perfectly self evident answer that no-one can recall right now.



      Another very funny take on real life in an unreal world.
    • 4/5
      I read the Color of Magic and thought that it was fun, but Rincewind was not my favorite, so I didn't pick up the next for a while until it was suggested by a friend who loves the series that I try some of the witches books. I really enjoyed Equal Rites. I love the witches and the wizards and Eskarina in between. It seems like this series will always be something good to pick up when I am down. Quick and silly and lovable.
    • 4/5
      My partner recommended this book to me because he loves this author, so I finally decided to give it a read. While this book didn't have a lot of shocking moments in it it was one of those great books that kept me interested in it the entire time. This was a wonderful book.

      It was interesting to see these characters develop from the first moment to the end of the book in ways that I hadn't expected. I had never read Terry Pratchett before this, but if this is what he does I am very interested in reading more of the Discworld series. His humor is very much on par with what I want to read as well. He took all the things that I expected to happen in a fantasy book and said nope that isn't going to happen but THIS IS and as a result I fell in love with this book.
    • 5/5
      I just met another of Pratchett's characters, Granny Weatherwax.Terry Pratchett seems to be able to give his characters memorable personas and can paint with words so that the image stays in your memory long after you have read the book.This was the third discworld book and now I am quite addicted to this realm of reality.
    • 4/5
      Discworld starts to find it's niche. Of course, the witches have always been my favorites.
    • 3/5
      Esk is a girl with a problem. A dying wizard assumed that she was a boy, and so bequethed her his staff and a gift for wizardry. The only real problem is that girls can't be wizards, as everyone knows. Witches, though, that's another story. Granny Weatherwax takes the young girl in and gives her some witchy training trying to deny the wizardry Esk has been gifted. The only problem is that the wizardry just won't go away. So in order to get her trained so she doesn't end up killing someone, Esk needs to go to the Unseen University and get taught. The wizards there won't want to hear anything about a female wizard, so they just dust the two women under the rug. Until only the women can save the Unseen University and its new star pupil.Will wizardry ever be the same again?While this book was entertaining, I've read several other Discworld novels and found this one to be less entertaining that most of the others. Take that for what it's worth.
    • 4/5
      Equal rites tells the tale of a young girl that accidentally inherits a wizard's staff and powers. Follow Esk on her witch training and on her quest into the exclusive male world that is wizardry. A real page turner this one and although it is part of the discworld series, this book can be fully enjoyed without having read any other discworld book
    • 3/5
      As a wizard, Drum Billet knows when he will die, so he has sought out an eight son who is about to have an eight child so that he can pass his staff and his magic to another generation. There
    • 4/5
      I think I'm finally getting into the swing of Discworld with the third volume, Equal Rites. I needed a bit of fun reading, and this was just the ticket. Absurd, punny, and a good quick palette cleanser.
    • 5/5
      This was the first appearance of Granny and what an appearance! I just loved how she acted, especially in the motherly guidance to help Eskarina. Oh i love the sibling rivalry and what esk does, but i wont spoil it for you, you will understand as soon as you read it. Hope you enjoy as i did
    • 4/5
      Discworld is a very large series. It can be overwhelming to know where to start. There are numerous charts available on the internet that list what books in the series tie together. I decided that my first Discworld novel would be the first book in the series of books centered around the witches of the Discworld.The main characters here are two very strong women. One old and very wise woman (and if she doesn't know something - she's going to pretend she does so that you don't suspect otherwise!) and one young girl who thinks herself very wise. This is a story about Granny Weatherwax and Eskarina Smith. Granny is a witch. She is present for the birth of Eskarina (Esk) and when a wizard comes calling to give her his powers. It is said that all wizards are the eighth son of an eighth son. Only... surprise! Esk is a female. This leads to Esk becoming the first female wizard. Only everyone tells her such a thing is not possible. Females simply cannot be wizards or attend Unseen University. Esk and Granny plan to change that.The thing I really enjoyed about this story were the characters. Granny is very funny and doesn't care a thing for what anyone thinks she should do. Esk is very much like Granny in this way. She is determined to go after the things she wants and not to let anyone tell her that it's impossible.Terry Pratchett has created a funny little world filled with humor and interesting characters. I'm excited to meet more of them as I continue reading this series.
    • 4/5
      I loved it. Somehow Discworld and I are a good match. I kind of hope to meet Esk again in one of the other books. She's an 'almost nine-year-old' with a definite mind of her own!!
    • 4/5
      I'd read this one before but I'd forgotten large chunks of it. Really enjoyed rereading it. ^_^Found this one easier to read than the first two, really liked Esk and Granny Weatherwax.Interesting that it's an adult book that largely follows a child as its main character.It wasn't particularly long and I was surprised at how quickly I got through it. :-)
    • 5/5
      The third book in the Discworld series introduces the Witches/Wizards storyline. In this story, we are introduced to Esk, and eight child to an eight child, and for whatever mystical reason, on Discworld that means they are meant to be a wizard. Only problem is, all wizards on the Discworld are male and this happens to be a daughter. Instead of the normal path for those who will become wizards, Esk is mentored by the well renowned witch Granny Weatherwax to control her powers and become a proper witch in society.This is a really great start to this storyline and has all of the elements of the Discworld series that really make it excellent. Pratchett's normal great humor and story telling are all found here. In addition, it is a really fun story that really plays a fun satirical flip on gender roles in society in an unforced and hilarious way. This is a really great book for both seasoned Discworld fans or the newcomer looking for a solid entry point to the series.
    • 4/5
      While Pratchett does seem to be getting the hang of writing novels that encompass the traditional story format (beginning, middle, end), it is just the story of another journey, much like in the Light Fantastic. However, in this story, it is also difficult to really identify who the protagonist is supposed to be. Now, enough of the frustrations. What's good about the book? Well the journey which I mention is both wonderfully traditional in parts and in others entirely unconventional, bringing a pleasant twist to a much-loved and well-worn plot. And as for the lack of an easily discernible protagonist, at least everyone in the running for the position is rather likable and makes for a good character to tag around with. Overall, another delightful tale, but oddly without much lasting originality.
    • 3/5
      I wanted it to be more than it was: the humor was fine but I wanted the story fleshed out more, and perhaps treated a tad more seriously.
    • 3/5
      The third installment in The Discworld Series, this book mainly centers around Eskarina; the 8th child of an 8th child; who is visited by a dying Wizard on his deathbed and given a magical wizard's staff and foretold that she will become a Wizard. Unfortunately, this takes place before it is known that she is in fact FEMALE, and much trouble ensues because of that overlooked fact. This book also contains the first appearance of Granny Weatherwax, arguably one of the best-drawn Witches in Fantasy today.What started out as an interesting premise for a story with some rather hilarious episodes in the conversations and teachings of Granny and Esk, soon seemed to be rather stretched thin towards the end. I am a big fan of Discworld and Terry Pratchett himself, but this book paled in comparison with the first two in the series. I didn't find it nearly as funny as the first two, and apart from Granny, I found the characters to be only half-drawn and lacking in interest for the most part. The ending as well felt a bit anti-climactic given the amount of time and energy it took to get to that point.
    • 4/5
      When a dying wizard accidentally passes on his staff (and therefore his powers) to a baby girl called Eskarina, it rocks the status quo. Only men can be wizards, whose magic comes from the sky, while only women can be witches whose magic comes from the earth (the witches sneer at the mention of warlocks).A story about the need for traditions to change with the times rather than being set in stone eternally.
    • 3/5
      Third time's the charm. This is the Discworld book where things clicked into place, the first with Granny Weatherwax, and I believe Pratchett's first book featuring a juvenile hero(ine). I think these things are connected. Rincewind in the first two books was a buffoon who drove the story along fantasy spoofing lines. Granny and Eskarina are competent agents, at the opposite ends of the timeline. Granny is mature and respected -- at least in her village -- and Eskarina is young and under-appreciated. These are characters that both writer and reader want to see succeed because of who they are, not because comic plots demand a happy ending. And one you start writing sympathetic main characters, you have to start adding some sympathetic grace notes to the secondary characters as well. Others have noted with disappointment that Esk has not (yet) been featured in another Discworld novel. But to some extent, I think she has in the Tiffany Aching series. Recommended.
    • 3/5
      I'm new to Discworld. I enjoy its lowbrow humor most of the time. This one was fun, not too predictable (I sort of assumed Esk would end up right in school and that's where the story would be). The only part that really annoyed me was Granny Weatherwax's assertion that women's magic is from the earth and men's is from the sky. Oh come on, haven't we heard that stereotypical symbolism a million times before?

    Book preview

    Equal Rites - Terry Pratchett

    Begin Reading

    This is a story about magic and where it goes and perhaps more importantly where it comes from and why, although it doesn’t pretend to answer all or any of these questions.

    It may, however, help to explain why Gandalf never got married and why Merlin was a man. Because this is also a story about sex, although probably not in the athletic, tumbling, count-the-legs-and-divide-by-two sense unless the characters get totally beyond the author’s control. They might.

    However, it is primarily a story about a world. Here it comes now. Watch closely, the special effects are quite expensive.

    A bass note sounds. It is a deep, vibrating chord that hints that the brass section may break in at any moment with a fanfare for the cosmos, because the scene is the blackness of deep space with a few stars glittering like the dandruff on the shoulders of God.

    Then it comes into view overhead, bigger than the biggest, most unpleasantly armed starcruiser in the imagination of a three-ring filmmaker: a turtle, ten thousand miles long. It is Great A’Tuin, one of the rare astrochelonians from a universe where things are less as they are and more like people imagine them to be, and it carries on its meteor-pocked shell four giant elephants who bear on their enormous shoulders the great round wheel of the Discworld.

    As the viewpoint swings around, the whole of the world can be seen by the light of its tiny orbiting sun. There are continents, archipelagos, seas, deserts, mountain ranges and even a tiny central ice cap. The inhabitants of this place, it is obvious, won’t have any truck with global theories. Their world, bounded by an encircling ocean that falls forever into space in one long waterfall, is as round and flat as a geological pizza, although without the anchovies.

    A world like that, which exists only because the gods enjoy a joke, must be a place where magic can survive. And sex too, of course.

    He came walking through the thunderstorm and you could tell he was a wizard, partly because of the long cloak and carven staff but mainly because the raindrops were stopping several feet from his head, and steaming.

    It was good thunderstorm country, up here in the Ramtop Mountains, a country of jagged peaks, dense forests and little river valleys so deep the daylight had no sooner reached the bottom than it was time to leave again. Ragged wisps of cloud clung to the lesser peaks below the mountain trail along which the wizard slithered and slid. A few slot-eyed goats watched him with mild interest. It doesn’t take a lot to interest goats.

    Sometimes he would stop and throw his heavy staff into the air. It always came down pointing the same way and the wizard would sigh, pick it up, and continue his squelchy progress.

    The storm walked around the hills on legs of lightning, shouting and grumbling.

    The wizard disappeared around the bend in the track and the goats went back to their damp grazing.

    Until something else caused them to look up. They stiffened, their eyes widening, their nostrils flaring.

    This was strange, because there was nothing on the path. But the goats still watched it pass by until it was out of sight.

    There was a village tucked in a narrow valley between steep woods. It wasn’t a large village, and wouldn’t have shown up on a map of the mountains. It barely showed up on a map of the village.

    It was, in fact, one of those places that exist merely so that people can have come from them. The universe is littered with them: hidden villages, windswept little towns under wide skies, isolated cabins on chilly mountains, whose only mark on history is to be the incredibly ordinary place where something extraordinary started to happen. Often there is no more than a little plaque to reveal that, against all gynecological probability, someone very famous was born halfway up a wall.

    Mist curled between the houses as the wizard crossed a narrow bridge over the swollen stream and made his way to the village smithy, although the two facts had nothing to do with one another. The mist would have curled anyway: it was experienced mist and had got curling down to a fine art.

    The smithy was fairly crowded, of course. A smithy is one place where you can depend on finding a good fire and someone to talk to. Several villagers were lounging in the warm shadows but, as the wizard approached, they sat up expectantly and tried to look intelligent, generally with indifferent success.

    The smith didn’t feel the need to be quite so subservient. He nodded at the wizard, but it was a greeting between equals, or at least between equals as far as the smith was concerned. After all, any halfway competent blacksmith has more than a nodding acquaintance with magic, or at least likes to think he has.

    The wizard bowed. A white cat that had been sleeping by the furnace woke up and watched him carefully.

    What is the name of this place, sir? said the wizard.

    The blacksmith shrugged.

    Bad Ass, he said.

    Bad—?

    Ass, repeated the blacksmith, his tone defying anyone to make something of it.

    The wizard considered this.

    A name with a story behind it, he said at last, which were circumstances otherwise I would be pleased to hear. But I would like to speak to you, smith, about your son.

    Which one? said the smith, and the hangers-on sniggered. The wizard smiled.

    You have seven sons, do you not? And you yourself were an eighth son?

    The smith’s face stiffened. He turned to the other villagers.

    All right, the rain’s stopping, he said. Piss off, the lot of you. Me and— he looked at the wizard with raised eyebrows.

    Drum Billet, said the wizard.

    Me and Mr. Billet have things to talk about. He waved his hammer vaguely and, one after another, craning over their shoulders in case the wizard did anything interesting, the audience departed.

    The smith drew a couple of stools from under a bench. He took a bottle out of a cupboard by the water tank and poured a couple of very small glasses of clear liquid.

    The two men sat and watched the rain and the mist rolling over the bridge. Then the smith said: I know what son you mean. Old Granny is up with my wife now. Eighth son of an eighth son, of course. It did cross my mind but I never gave it much thought, to be honest. Well, well. A wizard in the family, eh?

    You catch on very quickly, said Billet. The white cat jumped down from its perch, sauntered across the floor and vaulted into the wizard’s lap, where it curled up. His thin fingers stroked it absentmindedly.

    Well, well, said the smith again. A wizard in Bad Ass, eh?

    Possibly, possibly, said Billet. Of course, he’ll have to go to University first. He may do very well, of course.

    The smith considered the idea from all angles, and decided he liked it a lot. A thought struck him.

    Hang on, he said. I’m trying to remember what my father told me. A wizard who knows he’s going to die can sort of pass on his sort of wizardness to a sort of successor, right?

    I have never heard it put so succinctly, yes, said the wizard.

    So you’re going to sort of die?

    Oh yes. The cat purred as the fingers tickled it behind the ear.

    The smith looked embarrassed. When?

    The wizard thought for a moment. In about six minutes’ time.

    Oh.

    Don’t worry, said the wizard. I’m quite looking forward to it, to tell you the truth. I’ve heard it’s quite painless.

    The blacksmith considered this. Who told you? he said at last.

    The wizard pretended not to hear him. He was watching the bridge, looking for telltale turbulence in the mist.

    Look, said the smith. You’d better tell me how we go about bringing up a wizard, you see, because there isn’t a wizard in these parts and—

    It will all sort itself out, said Billet pleasantly. The magic has guided me to you and the magic will take care of everything. It usually does. Did I hear a cry?

    The blacksmith looked at the ceiling. Above the splash of the rain he could make out the sound of a pair of new lungs at full bore.

    The wizard smiled. Have him brought down here, he said.

    The cat sat up and looked interestedly at the forge’s wide doorway. As the smith called excitedly up the stairs it jumped down and padded slowly across the floor, purring like a bandsaw.

    A tall white-haired woman appeared at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a bundle in a blanket. The smith hurried her over to where the wizard sat.

    But— she began.

    This is very important, said the smith importantly. What do we do now, sir?

    The wizard held up his staff. It was man-high and nearly as thick as his wrist, and covered with carvings that seemed to change as the smith looked at them, exactly as if they didn’t want him to see what they were.

    The child must hold it, said Drum Billet. The smith nodded, and fumbled in the blanket until he located a tiny pink hand. He guided it gently to the wood. It gripped it tightly.

    But— said the midwife.

    It’s all right, Granny, I know what I’m about. She’s a witch, sir, don’t mind her. Right, said the smith. Now what?

    The wizard was silent.

    What do we do n— the smith began, and stopped. He leaned down to look at the old wizard’s face. Billet was smiling, but it was anyone’s guess what the joke was.

    The smith pushed the baby back into the arms of the frantic midwife. Then, as respectfully as possible, he unpried the thin, pale fingers from the staff.

    It had a strange, greasy feel, like static electricity. The wood itself was almost black, but the carvings were slightly lighter, and hurt the eyes if you tried to make out precisely what they were supposed to be.

    Are you pleased with yourself? said the midwife.

    Eh? Oh. Yes. As a matter of fact, yes. Why?

    She twitched aside a fold of the blanket. The smith looked down, and swallowed.

    No, he whispered. He said—

    "And what would he know about it?" sneered Granny.

    But he said it would be a son!

    Doesn’t look like a son to me, laddie.

    The smith flopped down on his stool, his head in his hands.

    What have I done? he moaned.

    You’ve given the world its first female wizard, said the midwife. Whosa itsywitsy, den?

    What?

    "I was talking to the baby."

    The white cat purred and arched its back as if it was rubbing up against the legs of an old friend. Which was odd, because there was no one there.

    I was foolish, said a voice in tones no mortal could hear. I assumed the magic would know what it was doing.

    PERHAPS IT DOES.

    If only I could do something…

    THERE IS NO GOING BACK. THERE IS NO GOING BACK, said the deep, heavy voice like the closing of crypt doors.

    The wisp of nothingness that was Drum Billet thought for a while.

    But she’s going to have a lot of problems.

    THAT’S WHAT LIFE IS ALL ABOUT. SO I’M TOLD. I WOULDN’T KNOW, OF COURSE.

    What about reincarnation?

    Death hesitated.

    YOU WOULDN’T LIKE IT, he said. TAKE IT FROM ME.

    I’ve heard that some people do it all the time.

    YOU’VE GOT TO BE TRAINED TO IT. YOU’VE GOT TO START OFF SMALL AND WORK UP. YOU’VE NO IDEA HOW HORRIBLE IT IS TO BE AN ANT.

    It’s bad?

    YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE IT. AND WITH YOUR KARMA AN ANT IS TOO MUCH TO EXPECT.

    The baby had been taken back to its mother and the smith sat disconsolately watching the rain.

    Drum Billet scratched the cat behind its ears and thought about his life. It had been a long one, that was one of the advantages of being a wizard, and he’d done a lot of things he hadn’t always felt good about. It was about time that…

    I HAVEN’T GOT ALL DAY, YOU KNOW, said Death, reproachfully.

    The wizard looked down at the cat and realized for the first time how odd it looked now.

    The living often don’t appreciate how complicated the world looks when you are dead, because while death frees the mind from the straitjacket of three dimensions it also cuts it away from Time, which is only another dimension. So while the cat that rubbed up against his invisible legs was undoubtedly the same cat that he had seen a few minutes before, it was also quite clearly a tiny kitten and a fat, half-blind old moggy and every stage in between. All at once. Since it had started off small it looked like a white, cat-shaped carrot, a description that will have to do until people invent proper four-dimensional adjectives.

    Death’s skeletal hand tapped Billet gently on the shoulder.

    COME AWAY, MY SON.

    There’s nothing I can do?

    LIFE IS FOR THE LIVING. ANYWAY, YOU’VE GIVEN HER YOUR STAFF.

    Yes. There is that.

    The midwife’s name was Granny Weatherwax. She was a witch. That was quite acceptable in the Ramtops, and no one had a bad word to say about witches. At least, not if he wanted to wake up in the morning the same shape as he went to bed.

    The smith was still staring gloomily at the rain when she came back down the stairs and clapped a warty hand on his shoulder.

    He looked up at her.

    What shall I do, Granny? he said, unable to keep the pleading out of his voice.

    What have you done with the wizard?

    I put him out in the fuel store. Was that right?

    It’ll do for now, she said briskly. And now you must burn the staff.

    They both turned to stare at the heavy staff, which the smith had propped in the forge’s darkest corner. It almost appeared to be looking back at them.

    But it’s magical, he whispered.

    Well?

    Will it burn?

    Never knew wood that didn’t.

    It doesn’t seem right!

    Granny Weatherwax swung shut the big doors and turned to him angrily.

    Now you listen to me, Gordo Smith! she said. Female wizards aren’t right either! It’s the wrong kind of magic for women, is wizard magic, it’s all books and stars and jommetry. She’d never grasp it. Whoever heard of a female wizard?

    There’s witches, said the smith uncertainly. And enchantresses too, I’ve heard.

    Witches is a different thing altogether, snapped Granny Weatherwax. It’s magic out of the ground, not out of the sky, and men never could get the hang of it. As for enchantresses, she added. They’re no better than they should be. You take it from me, just burn the staff, bury the body and don’t let on it ever happened.

    Smith nodded reluctantly, crossed over to the forge, and pumped the bellows until the sparks flew. He went back for the staff.

    It wouldn’t move.

    It won’t move!

    Sweat stood out of his brow as he tugged at the wood. It remained uncooperatively immobile.

    Here, let me try, said Granny, and reached past him. There was a snap and a smell of scorched tin.

    Smith ran across the forge, whimpering slightly, to where Granny had landed upside down against the opposite wall.

    Are you all right?

    She opened two eyes like angry diamonds and said, I see. That’s the way of it, is it?

    The way of what? said Smith, totally bewildered.

    Help me up, you fool. And fetch me a chopper.

    The tone of her voice suggested that it would be a very good idea not to disobey. Smith rummaged desperately among the junk at the back of the forge until he found an old double-headed ax.

    Right. Now take off your apron.

    Why? What do you intend to do? said the smith, who was beginning to lose his grip on events. Granny gave an exasperated sigh.

    It’s leather, you idiot. I’m going to wrap it around the handle. It’ll not catch me the same way twice!

    Smith struggled out of the heavy leather apron and handed it to her very gingerly. She wrapped it around the ax and made one or two passes in the air. Then, a spiderlike figure in the glow of the nearly incandescent furnace, she stalked across the room and with a grunt of triumph and effort brought the heavy blade sweeping down right in the center of the staff.

    There was a click. There was a noise like a partridge. There was a thud.

    There was silence.

    Smith reached up very slowly, without moving his head, and touched the ax blade. It wasn’t on the ax anymore. It had buried itself in the door by his head, taking a tiny nick out of his ear.

    Granny stood looking slightly blurred from hitting an absolutely immovable object, and stared at the stub of wood in her hands.

    Rrrrightttt, she stuttered. Iiiinnn tthhatttt cccasseee—

    No, said Smith firmly, rubbing his ear. Whatever it is you’re going to suggest, no. Leave it. I’ll pile some stuff around it. No one’ll notice. Leave it. It’s just a stick.

    Just a stick?

    Have you got any better ideas? Ones that won’t take my head off?

    She glared at the staff, which appeared not to notice.

    Not right now, she admitted. But you just give me time—

    All right, all right. Anyway, I’ve got things to do, wizards to bury, you know how it is.

    Smith took a spade from beside the back door and hesitated.

    Granny.

    What?

    Do you know how wizards like to be buried?

    Yes!

    Well, how?

    Granny Weatherwax paused at the bottom of the stairs.

    Reluctantly.

    Later, night fell gently as the last of the world’s slow light flowed out of the valley, and a pale, rain-washed moon shone down in a night studded with stars. And in a shadowy orchard behind the forge there was the occasional clink of a spade or a muffled curse.

    In the cradle upstairs the world’s first female wizard dreamed of nothing much.

    The white cat lay half-asleep on its private ledge near the furnace. The only sound in the warm dark forge was the crackle of the coals as they settled down under the ash.

    The staff stood in the corner, where it wanted to be, wrapped in shadows that were slightly blacker than shadows normally are.

    Time passed, which, basically, is its job.

    There was a faint tinkle, and a swish of air. After a while the cat sat up and watched with interest.

    Dawn came. Up here in the Ramtops dawn was always impressive, especially when a storm had cleared the air. The valley occupied by Bad Ass overlooked a panorama of lesser mountains and foothills, colored purple and orange in the early morning light that flowed gently over them (because light travels at a dilatory pace in the Disc’s vast magical field) and far off the great plains were still a puddle of shadows. Even further off the sea gave an occasional distant sparkle.

    In fact, from here you could see right to the edge of the world.

    That wasn’t poetic imagery but plain fact, since the world was quite definitely flat and was, furthermore, known to be carried through space on the backs of four elephants that in turn stood on the shell of Great A’Tuin, the Great Sky Turtle.

    Back down there in Bad Ass the village is waking up. The smith has just gone into the forge and found it tidier than

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